ALL THE LIES ARE TRUE…excerpt

Chap. 2
The Greyhound terminal was alive with activity even though it was well after midnight. I made my way through the crowded terminal to the restroom and the smell of urine that had missed the toilet bowl greeted my nostrils. An old lady-my first bag lady- was busy cleaning her underarms with a paper towel and eyed me suspiciously as I tried to pick out my matted fro.


Some of my initial excitement at being in tinsel town had subsided as reality set in. After all, it was after midnight and I didn’t have any place to go. No one was waiting outside to take me home. To welcome me after a long, hard bus ride.

It was too late to call Brian. What was I going to do? I could feel the panic slowly welling up inside me. Ok, ok get a hold of yourself Maya. This is what you wanted. You’re here so just calm down and think/think/think. I eyed my full, black afro slowly regaining its Angela Davis shape in the dirty mirror and my thoughts drifted back to home.


Kurt. That sorry brother. He was really one of the reasons I was out here all alone. Him and his revolution. Power to the people… butthole. I can’t believe I actually married him.

I should have known the Creator was sending me a message when my wedding ring fell in the gutter as I was getting out of the car in front of the wedding chapel.

I watched it wash away in the steady rain that had greeted us when we crossed the border into Elizabeth City. High and happy, we both giggled at the omen and disregarded it as we laughingly made our way into the chapel.

Later, I often wondered if that union was legal since we were both so high, we didn’t really know what we were agreeing too. That lost ring was the beginning of a 2 year long odyssey to hell and back.


Short, dark and with muscles in all the right places. Kurt was H. Rap Brown/Stokeley Carmichael and Don L. Lee all rolled up in one neat package. He literally (and figuratively) charmed the pants off every girl he met.

Spouting revolutionary rhetoric as he swaggered around the campus, Kurt was definitely considered a catch. Plenty of revolutionary and counter revolutionary sisters wanted him.
I hear you’re the sister in charge of the black culture show. I looked up from my half-eaten tuna sandwich. His deep brown eyes had a hypnotic quality that made me catch my breath.

Yes, can I help you… trying to sound business-like, but I was sure he could hear my heart thumping. Yeah, sista my name is Kurt and I’m the minister of culture for the BSU. Just left a meeting where some of the brothers were talking about your cultural programs and thought I’d come by and offer my help. That is, if you don’t mind.


He sounded so innocent and little-boy-like I couldn’t resist smiling. Hmm, you’ve got a beautiful smile, he whispered. It’s a good thing my skin is so dark. Otherwise I would have been beet red. I was blushing so hard.

No, I don’t mind. I could use some help. I knew I was acting foolish but the effect this brother had on me was unbelievable. Flirting boldly, he leaned closer burning his eyes into mine. Well, I’ve got a class right now, so maybe we could get together later and work on this thing, he said. Okay, I nodded feeling the heat slowly make its way down my body.

How about if I meet you back here in the café around six? I’ll be here, I replied. His eyes traveled the length of my body as if he were on tour. I think I just met the woman I’m going to marry. Smiling, Kurt turned and swaggered off in that sexy, thigh hipped walk that made several girls in the café put their forks down and stare.


I tried to look cool and unconcerned as I sat waiting for him to show up for our meeting. The cafeteria was noisy with the fraternity/sorority crowd lining up for the dinner meal. I took a seat near the door so Kurt would be able to easily spot me.

Engrossed in my Afro American history text, I looked up to see his eyes searing through my free Huey t-shirt. Well, my beautiful black queen have you decided when we’re going to get married? I smiled broadly. Kurt was dressed in light blue jeans that emphasized the huge bulge in his front and a cut off jean jacket revealed a shirtless, very hairy, very muscular chest.


Married? I laughed. I don’t even know your last name, I retorted. And besides it may not go good with my name. Hmm, it’s Goodman…Maya Goodman. I think I like that. Don’t you? he said easing his sexy body next to mine. Yes, I think I like that just fine…unless of course you are one of those sistas who wants to keep her own name. Defiantly, I said, And what if I am? Kurt touched my hand. It’s fine with me. Just as long as you give me beautiful, black babies that can carry on my line.
This brother is not only fine. But he is bold with a capital B. I could feel myself falling hard for his charm and I knew he could feel it too.

Copyright 2019. Part 3 coming next week.

READERS, MY MEMOIR/ FICTION BOOK… ALL THE LIES ARE TRUE…

THE STORY OF MY BLACK POWER/HIPPIE YEARS IN 1970s LOS ANGELES..

IS SCHEDULED FOR RELEASE LATE DECEMBER 2019 ON KINDLE.

(PREVIEW CHAPTERS WILL BE RELEASED ON BLOG SITE IN COMING WEEKS).

TELL ALL YOUR FRIENDS.

AND THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING MY WORDS !

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised… Or Posted on Instagram, Twitter or Facebook

WE interrupt this broadcast to bring you an important message!
The Revolution will NOT be televised
or posted on Instagram
or Facebook
or snap chat
or twitter.

Brother Gil Scott sounded the alarm

Malcolm and Martin

already gone

Huey. Fred. Angela. and countless unnamed Others have led the charge

For dignity.
Community.
Free food.
Brotherhood /sisterhood.

A Voice.

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

The Community of Brothers Behind Bars
serving time
for victimless crimes
must be freed.

Enrollment at

Instituitions of Higher Learning

must replace crack dens,

Measuring grams,

Driving while black,

Killing of our boys and men

Wake up! Wake up!
Social media is not real
it is a Medium
designed by the 10 percent
for control of the 90.

Anesthetizing Our Youth

Dulling Their Brilliant Minds

Gaming Gaming

Does Not Rule.

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

We have already lost too much Time.

Vietnam /PTSD /Homelessness /Brother can you spare a Dime?

Visiting your baby daddy in

Lockup has become a Thang.

Abusing your Queen has

become a Thang.

Shooting Sperm in Multiple

Girls has become a New

Sport.

Fatherless children the result.

Wake Up !Wake Up!
We Need You.
You are the hope
the light
the Original Rib.

To get to the Future
We Have to Look to the Past.

WE Were the Kings /the pyramid builders/ the Mathematicians/the blood transfusion inventor
…the doctors…the lawyers
And Soldiers who helped SAVE our Native American chiefs.

Do you know Your His-tory /Her-Story?

Anthony/Benjamin/Tyrone/ Rashad/Khalif/Isaiah/ Testimony/Derrick/ Jason/Kendrick/Brother Sean

You are the fruit we have borne.
Do not ripen on the Vine.
Countless numbers are Already Gone.

YOU are OUR Future
Our Kings /Warriors /Griots /Musicians.
Rulers of Obama Nation

The REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED THE REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED THE REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED

But Will Be Brought To you
Live and …In LIVING COLOR.

(Updated from Original post)

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Liberal Lin

IMG_0094

WE interrupt this broadcast to bring you an important message!

The Revolution will NOT be televised

or posted on Instagram

or Facebook

or snap chat

or twitter.

Brother Gil Scott sounded the alarm

Malcolm and Martin were already gone

Huey and Fred and countless unnamed Panthers have led the charge

For  dignity

community

free food

brotherhood /sisterhood

A Voice

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

The Community of Brothers Behind Bars

serving time

for victimless crimes

must be freed

Instituitions of Higher Learning

must replace crack dens,

measuring grams,

driving while black,

killing of our boys and men

Wake up! Wake up!

Social media is not real

it is a Medium

designed by the 10 percent

for control of the 90

Anesthetizing Our Youth

Dulling Their Brilliant Minds

Gaming Gaming does Not Rule

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

We have already lost too much Time

Vietnam /PTSD /Homelessness /Brother…

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