Category: World Literature

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Word of the Week: WĀPĀKI

Written by: Arose N Daghetto for Literature Voodoo blog

Today’s word of the week comes from the Cree Indian tribe. Wāpāki means, tomorrow.

In the literal term, wāpāki means, when there is daylight. A flat, monotone sound accompanies the pronunciation of each word. That is, word for the Cree native, each syllable for the non native. Wā  pā ki.

The Cree Indian tribe are among the highest in population of people belonging to the First Nations of Canada. Most Cree Indians live in Canada. However, many Crees have migrated south into the North America. Although there are Cree Indians living in other regions of the country, a larger population of them reside in the midwestern region such as Minnesota and Montana.

The origins of the American Indians trace back to Northern Asia and Siberia. Siberia is a part of Russia. Russia is often considered a part of Europe, although the continent is sandwiched between Europe and Northern Asia. This is not to say that the Russians are Asians, but they are close neighbors nonetheless.

The tribal languages spoken by the American Indians are primarily of Asian influence. Asian languages are tonal languages. If you listen to someone speak in Vietnamese, Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese, etc., you will sort of hear a melody of tones and sounds in their speech. Each word is pronounced with either a high tone, neutral tone or low tone. Some words or sentences will take on different meanings depending on the tone you use. Therefore, it’s important for the foreign tongue learning an Asian language to keep this little factor in mind: What you say and how you say it to an Asian speaker is everything!

In some Asian languages, there are some words that don’t always have a strongly pronounced sound. For example, in Vietnamese, some words seem to have a sound that comes more from the throat or through clenched teeth or from the side of the mouth. This can be extremely challenging for the non native linguist or teacher to devise a phonetics table to guide students in these words! For some Asian languages, it seems like the best way for a casual learner is to focus more on the audio lessons. It’s a good way to get to know the surface of the language better by listening and emulating the sounds. Once you feel more acquainted with the language, you can then decide if you want to make a serious commitment by going deeper into really studying the language. 

Back to the Cree language. Notice the long bar over the vowel sound (a). This is an indication to the speaker or reader that this letter, or vowel sound is to be pronounced with a long “a” sound. Also, in Cree, the letter “k” is pronounced like the letter “g”, so it has a “guh” sound.

Let’s try to say it, shall we?

Wā —> Waah (normal pitch monotone; slightly prolonged, flat sound)

Pā —> Paah (normal pitch monotone; slightly prolonged, flat sound)

Ki —> GEE (slightly raised pitch monotone; short, stronger sound)

All together now!


(Waah paah GEE)


(or the literal term, When there is daylight)


Wanna attempt it in a sentence? LOL… Come on, you’ll be fine…


Wāpāki nawāpamāw nitānis

Tomorrow I will see my daughter.








(-ow as in the English word “wow” or “now” when you sound out the word/syllable -mow and -wow)

Wāpāki nawāpamāw nitānis

Waah-paah-GEE… Nah-wow-PAH-mow**… nîh-TAH-nîhs 

Tomorrow I will see my daughter.


To learn more about the Cree Indian tribe and their language please visit the YouTube channel #CreeSimonSays. He is a wonderful teacher and is so kind to share some of the language of his people to the world.

See you next week with another Word of the Week! 🙋






All photos, drawings and writings belonging to other artists featured on this blog are solely for entertainment or illustrational purposes only. I do not own nor do I have any desire to take credit for any photos, artwork or writings not belonging to me. They all belong to the rightful owners of the work and the original websites they came from.

This excludes my own personal writings and photos I share on this blog which are always indicated and credited under my name and periodical company.



Word of the Week: Griot
Pronounced: GREE- ût or, GEE-uht.
The u (û) has a short “uh” sound. It’s like you are trapping the “uh” sound in your throat so that it doesn’t flow out of your mouth. Think of the words “hut” or “gut” when sounding out the second syllable of this word.

A Griot is a storyteller originating from West Africa. They are bestowed the gift of communication by their elders which goes hand in hand with the gift of entertaining the masses. You will find numerous griots- authentic, home raised griots- in almost any part of West Africa.

These gems of the West African community are well versed in the literary arts. They are traveling performers whose stage is usually a space of land in their local village or a community miles away.

In addition to storytelling, griots inform their audience about history and genealogy. They are also preservers of tradition and heritage. They are musicians who exalts praise and worship while engaging in fellowship with their audience through the instruments they play and the songs they sing.

Griots are socially responsible people who are like ambassadors to the community. They are humble and kind souls in their own right. They are wise men (and women) who admonish their community through proverbial lessons. Griots are peacemakers who sometimes mediate on various issues or disputes. They are also brave people well skilled in defending and protecting their community when necessary.

Don’t be pursuaded by the glamorized images of griots you might see or hear about in western world. Becoming a griot is not easily obtained. It takes many years of training and development before the chosen successor can go out into the world with this gift. Training begins at a very early age by an elder in the family. This is how the gift, or tradition is passed down through the generations. Stories, history, certain musical instruments and traditional accounts are just some of the valuable things taught during the training.

Griots are also known by their alternative French name, Jali, or Jéli. The name has two different spellings but only one way of pronouncing it. DJEHY-lee. Think of the word fudge when pronouncing the J word in French, “djuh”…. “djehy”…. DJEHY-lee. French is the principal language spoken in many parts of West Africa.

See you next week with another word. 🙋


Article written by Arose N Daghetto for Literature Voodoo blog



For more information on griots, please visit these sites: is a Griot.pdf



All photos, drawings and writings belonging to other artists featured on this blog are solely for entertainment or illustrational purposes only. I do not own nor do I have any desire to take credit for any photos, artwork or writings not belonging to me. They all belong to the rightful owners of the work and the original websites they came from.

This excludes my own personal writings and photos I share on this blog which are always indicated and credited under my name and periodical company.



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Derek Walcott: A Poetic Genius

By: Arose N Daghetto for Literature Voodoo blog


Born in Saint Lucia in 1930, Derek Walcott was a poet whose writings thrived on challenging the human mind and social consciousness. His poetry unveiled the marriage between the beauty of the islands and its continual growing pains of post colonialism.

Walcott gave readers candid and sometimes dreamy perspectives of life through the eyes of Caribbean men and women. He paired his poetry with his artwork which further indulged readers with visuals of those perspectives. He enabled readers to breathe in the spirit of these characters. We get to walk in the characters’ shoes. We feel their love or their heartbreak. We experience their wins and grieve along with them during their losses. And because Derek Walcott’s work often included excerpts of his personal life experiences, we are given the opportunity to become acquainted with the man behind the poetry.

In Hilton Als’s tribute article to the late poet entitled, “Derek Walcott, A Mighty Poet Has Died” (The New Yorker, March 17, 2017), Als fondly recanted his interview with Walcott:

“I felt as though I had always known him- not known him, exactly, but seen him, been in his aura, his history…”

Als used many positive words to describe who Derek Walcott was. One of those words was complex. Although one might question how could saying a person is complex be positive, if you read his article (provided below)*, you will see where he meant it in a good way.

Derek Walcott was complex. He was complex in the sense of creativity and intellectualism. He was a poet, painter, playwright and journalist. Intellectually, he was a Nobel Prize laureate, a professor at Boston University, which is one of North America’s leading Ivy league schools. He was also the founder of the Boston Playwright Theater. Furthermore, he was honored by The Order of the Caribbean Community, The Order of Chivalry and The Most Excellent Order by Queen Elizabeth II, who elevated his name to Sir Derek Walcott. These are only some of the many credentials and high honors Walcott received during the course of his prestigious writing career.

Not enough people have heard about the genius known as Derek Walcott, especially those of the younger generation. I didn’t know who Derek Walcott was either. A beautiful friend I once knew introduced me to his poetry several months ago.

There is still more to learn about this poetic genius. A humble genius who often used his gift to mentor and advocate other upcoming writers. His poetry did more than just earn him a place on the elite list of world literature’s greatest writers of all time, it secured his place there. Like Chaucer, Homer and Shakespeare, Derek Walcott’s masterpieces should be on the syllabus of every middle school, high school and college English classes.

Derek Walcott wore many hats in his lifetime before and after he became a world renowned poet. The genius may be gone physically, but his voice will live on forever through every book he wrote and every legacy he left behind. Long live Derek Walcott. Long live Saint Lucia. Stay beautiful and never give up on your hard work for a better tomorrow.


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“Doubt was his patron saint, it was his island’s,
the saint who probed the holes in his Saviour’s hands”

“(despite the parenthetical rainbow of providence)
and questioned resurrection; its seven bright bands.”

“Saint Thomas, the skeptic, Saint Lucia, the blind
martyr who on a tray carried her own eyes,”

“the hymn of black smoke, wreath of the trade wind,
confirming their ascent to paradise. “


~ Tiepolo’s Hound by Derek Walcott, 2000



* Hilton Alt’s article:



All photos, drawings and writings belonging to other artists featured on this blog are solely for entertainment or illustrational purposes only. I do not own nor do I have any desire to take credit for any photos, artwork or writings not belonging to me. They all belong to the rightful owners of the work and the original websites they came from.

This excludes my own personal writings and photos I share on this blog which are always indicated and credited under my name and periodical company.


What can you expect to see on the new and improved Literature Voodoo? Lesser poems. More cultural articles. More concise. It’s that simple.

• Articles will cover a variety of topics related to the literary arts. They will be engaging, entertaining and reader friendly.

• Profiles on language, spirituality, and other forms of entertainment from cultures around the world, especially those of the African diaspora

• Word of the week

•  Writing tips and resources to help writers succeed further in their writing goals

• And more!

Here’s to breathing new life into this website. Sending positive enlightenment to every person this blog reaches.

Ase.   🙏


Stay tuned.

~Arose N Daghetto



All photos, drawings and writings belonging to other artists featured on this blog are solely for entertainment and illustrational purposes only. I do not own nor do I have any desire to take credit for any photos, artwork or writings not belonging to me. They all belong to the rightful owners of the work and the original websites they came from. 

This excludes my own personal writings and photos I share on this blog which are always indicated and credited under my name and periodical company.

            ~Written By Arose N Daghetto


I’m sitting in the kitchen
holding the fruit of infatuation
Waiting for the one I love
To show up in the room
I speak in passionese to grandfather time
and all he says back to me is


Who will bite this fruit of infatuation
growing warm in my hand
should the man that I love
not come home tonight?
Can you tell me
my old and wise grandfather?


Precious grandfather
minister of parable thoughts
You’ve always been the sparrow
on my shoulder
during insomnia and quiet conversations
Come out of your silence, Grandfather
Talk to me
enlighten me


The big hand covered the little hand
In a reverent embrace
between grandfather’s polished eyes
They braced themselves
for the arrival of a new hour
and the official departure of another day


Midnight drops itself in the chair
across from me
I don’t flinch at its laughter
nor the heckling hums of my refrigerator
I looked at Grandfather with Lois Lane eyes
longing for intervention


Click-clack goes the door
Boom-boom goes my heart
Creak-crack goes the floor
and after a time capsule of silence
CRUNCH goes the maracujá
and her blood
down the sides of my wrist.



Poem (not pictures) © Copyright 2012 by Arose N Daghetto for Black Girl Down Publications. All Rights Reserved.


By Arose N Daghetto


Did you know that Samba music and its dance was created by African slaves who migrated to the city of Salvador, Brazil, which is one of if not the largest population of Afro Brazilians?  Samba is of several success story to come out of the African diaspora, for it is a culture that’s taken Brazil and the world by storm.


Samba came from humble beginnings, tracing back to the Salvador, Brazil.  The city of Salvador is also known as Bahia (which means, “Bay” and is also called “The Bay of All Saints”,  a place where not only Samba was born, but a place where Orixas and Candomblé religions were born.  These religions are rich in Congolese, Yoruba, Togo, Nigerian, Ghanaian and Benin cultural influences from Africa.  This is also where many of the African Slaves came from and this area of Brazil is one of the first places all African slaves were brought to before being dispersed to different parts of the South, Central and North America.


Salvador is also the birthplace of the famous Capoeira, which is a martial arts that combines dance and music. Capoeira was originally a self-defense mechanism the African slaves practiced to use against their slave masters. Capoeira was used by African warriors to prepare for war against rival tribes. Having such captured warriors among the community of slaves, they secretly used these moves to train one another for combat and protection. Capoeira involves kicks, head butting, acrobatics, leg sweeps, slapping, elbowing, punches all incorporated in dance. 


Whenever the slave masters questioned their act, they explained it was simple form of dance and celebrating with each other. It didn’t take much to convince their masters how innocent and harmless the dance was. Perhaps to each other, who probably endured a few scrapes and bruises in their “harmless” dance.  


Brazil continues to have highest population of African descendants, most of them live in lower middle class communities or Favelas, which is like African Americans who live the inner city, to put in a nice way or ghettos, to put in a not so nice way.  


Afro Brazilian singer, Gilberto Gil once said in an interview that Afro Brazilians knew more about their African identity than those of African Americans, because done so well in preserving their cultural and religious identity.  Slavery in Brazil had much more of an upper hand over their slave masters because they outnumbered their oppressors over time and was able to gain control over their freedom better than those African Slaves that populated the south-eastern regions of the United States.  That’s a fascination discussion that I will have to get into further detail on in another blog.


Anyway Getting back to Samba music, other cultural influences helped to greatly diversify the Samba identity in Brazil such as the descendants of Portuguese, Spanish Italian and Native American.  Today, there are many sub styles of Samba music, you got Jazz samba, rock samba, Samba R&B Samba, reggae Samba, hip hop Samba.  The music is undeniably a euphoric experience. You can see the joy on the musicians faces as they work up a sweat beating those various percussions and strumming those various sized guitars. The singers are smiling, laughing, hypnotized by the intense rhythms and lyrics.  It’s always a party anytime you hear the Samba.  Even sad sambas makes you want to get up and dance!  Samba is the antidepressant to the most depressed soul and hope to the pessimist. 


As time and generations evolve, Samba takes on new and different faces in the music genre.  In the more current decades, many Brazilians express their dislike for Samba music, claiming it’s old and out with the times. Kinda like Americans were with Disco music back in the late 1970’s.  Nevertheless, the number of those who love Samba music is outnumbered in the nation and many artists work hard to keep the beauty of this music genre very much alive.  Samba schools have been established to teach people about Samba music, dance, and culture.


Samba has long been enjoyed by not only Brazilian natives, but Americans, French, Caribbeans, Germans and others around the world.  Samba remains to be the Face of Brazil’s attractive and sensuous identity. So whenever you’re feeling sad and can use a little pick-me-up, or if you feel like listening to something culturally invigorating, pull up a Samba or Bossa playlist on your Pandora radio.  Once you listen to it, you will never look at music the same again!


Article (not pictures) © Copyright 2012 by Arose N Daghetto for Black Girl Down Publications. All Rights Reserved.



    ~Written by Arose N Daghetto

Ses peau maure c’est si intense,
un poéme dans La Negritude qu’est si immense.
il est lourde avec l’histoire
un fantôme glorieux qui est emballé en noir.
et trempés en L’Afrique,
peureux et pourtant magnifique.
vers toutes de le yeux que lui voit
Son sourire est pur comme le lait.
Comme un fragment d’art
que s’est pelées lui-meme
á partir de ceux l’un ceux peintures de Van Gogh
il venu a moi comme si l’on était présentant un cadeau

il est mon amant bleu noir, mon chérie
Mon baiser du noirci, mon mûre sucrée
J’adore toutes les parties de lui
et je vais continuer se l’aimer jusqu’à ce que
c’est fini.


 MY BLUE-BLACK LOVER (English Translation)

               ~Written By Arose N Daghetto


His moorish skin is so intense,
a poem in Negritude that’s so immense.
He is heavy with history,
a glorious phantom wrapped in black,
drenched in Africa,
fearful and yet beautiful.
to all eyes that behold him.
He has a smile that’s as white as milk.

Like a piece of art
that’s peeled itself
from one of those paintings by Van Gogh.
He came to me as if he were presenting a gift.

He is my blue-black lover, my darling
My blackened kiss, my sweet blackberry
I love every part of him
and I will continue to love him until
it’s all over.

Poems (not picture) ©Copyright 2012 by Arose N Daghetto for Quiet Storm Enterprise. All Rights Reserved.


                                                         Written By Arose N Daghetto

Did you know that Christmas and Xmas are NOT the same word?  Well… it was intended to not be the same word in the eyes of modern American culture. 

The difference between Christmas and Xmas depends on how Americans in particular, perceive the meaning of each word according to its spelling. 

Shortened or lengthened, the way one spells Christmas, with a C or with an X can easily offend the person receiving that message. While non Christians are more laid back on how the title is spelled, many Christians are less accepting of the Xmas spelling.

In the spelling of “Christmas”, there’s the acknowledgement of Jesus Christ as the Alpha meaning behind the holiday…. “Xmas” was revised name created by someone, perhaps an atheist, who preferred to launch a war on the Christmas BY REMOVING CHRIST’S NAME out of the title. Therefore, giving non religious folk-such as atheists, agnostics and new age spiritualists who serve different gods- full advantage to celebrate the holiday without compromising their current way of life. Some acknowledge “Xmas” simply as a season of giving and receiving gifts with friends and family, followed by a formal dinner. Some work through “Xmas”, giving no reverence to the special day regardless of how it’s spelled. Regardless of the “religion” behind the holiday, believers and non believers alike pause life on that day to take part in the traditional gift giving and receiving event for the sake of their children who believe in the spirit of Old St. Nick and his reindeer hauling a sleigh full of infinite gifts to children around the world.

The image of Jesus Christ and his day of birth is buried under the ideal image of what Christmas or “Xmas” should be about. Worshipping symbolic statues that characterize the holiday season. They also tend to worship one another through MATERIAL means, such as gift giving, praising and singing songs to mythological figures that go by the name of Santa Claus, Rudolph, Frosty the Snowman.

Children pay their alms to these practices to honoring these make-believe presence of FABLES by caroling and writing letters to these nonexistent “gods”, so to speak… The grown ups exalt these mythological characters while beaming one another up in the “holiday spirit” by consuming enormous feasts of food, wine, and worldly celebration.

Although many people think “Xmas” fully removed Christ out of the name, he still has a strong presence there.  According to Merriam Webster website and Wikipedia,  “…The “X” comes from the Greek letter Chi, which is the first letter of the Greek word Χριστός, translated as “Christ”…. [and the “-mas” part is from the Latin-derived Old English word for “mass” (

Therefore, whether it’s Christmas or by Xmas, Christ still reigns as the symbol behind the Christmas holiday.

The right to religious freedom is being challenged more and more in our always evolving American society. It was the Europeans who felt it was their divine duty to set sail across the seven seas, spreading the of God and converting whom they once called “savage” people to Christianity. The recolonization of America (which included the so-called extermination of Native American society) was built on what was supposed to be solid Christian standards. Now, centuries later, the same people who came to save the world by converting the world to Christianity is now on a mission to destroy the Christian belief system and rip away the rights of those Christians to celebrate the holiday season in a way that is pleasing to them and the God they serve.

The challenge is also felt in the multicultural areas of America where the integration of both non believers and believers join forces to recreating a divine priesthood of African descent. From the hood to the islands and abroad these community of people dedicate themselves tirelessly to the higher calling of “freeing the slave within” by reclaiming the lost legacy of their ancestors. They root themselves in the divine rule set by the kings and queens who ruled their ancestral land long before the European invasion. Some believe in a more Afrocentric system of Christianity while others believe in an ancient Egyptian system of divinity known as the Kemet. Others embark on other cosmic, “new age” forms of spirituality in African and Eastern societies. 

Regardless of the path of their spiritual walk, their “divine movement” primarily consists of “waking up” the oppressed, miseducated person of color as well as those victimized by the institution of conspiracy. Sometimes their mission is met on one accord, other times it erupts in a frenzy of exhausting discord.

Like the United nations, believers and non believers of color representing all spectrums of spiritual identities come together often to hold round table like discussions on the state of their community within and outside of their spiritual community. They the congregate online and off-line, exchanging philosophies about the most suitable direction for people of color, particularly those of African descent. They too protest Americanized holidays like Christmas, Thanksgiving and Easter by educating others on the origin of these holidays through lectures and literature. Although their movement is not commonly televised like their mostly Caucasian counterparts, the mission remains the same: tear down the walls of (westernized) Christianity and the holidays built on that system of beliefs. In the Afrocentric group of non believers, neither Christmas or Xmas is warmly embraced.  

There was a time when the church was winning the war between church and state. Today, the state is winning the war. Leaders are failing the lost and wounded. The lost and wounded are prematurely leading other lost and wounded, tripling the affliction of many more broken souls trying to find their way to salvation. The Middle East, the birthplace of Christ, Christianity and the meaning of Christmas continues to be a conglomerate of war-torn nations and tortured souls.

Collectively, non believing Americans of all spiritual backgrounds are writing off the celebration of the birth of Christ, a.k.a The Lord and Savior, a.k.a The Good Shepherd as “offensive”, “assaulting” to non believers.   They protest the rights of other believers to peacefully celebrate the traditional meaning of Christmas among fellow Christians and keepers of the true meaning of Christmas. Although non believers have a right to NOT celebrate the original meaning of Christmas with other believers, they feel the need to launch a crusade remove all the symbols and services of the holiday from society period.

I feel there is a double standard in America’s cries for civil liberties. Where there are largely supported campaigns on the acceptance of gay and lesbian culture and marriage, why is there not campaigns launched on respecting the right to freedom of choice in ones individual religious beliefs and culture? Why not support the right for Christian Americans to believe in Jesus Christ and celebrate His birthday publicly or privately if you support the gay and lesbian parades in every community? This is what TRUE tolerance is all about. All people having a right to being a part of any social or sexual identity of their choice without being socially forced to conform into a lifestyle the do not feel comfortable with being a part of. To push for tolerance of one part society is to push for tolerance of ALL portions of society. Christians should have the right to celebrate and hold festivities who and what they believe in… Civil rights and equality is for ALL people, INCLUDING Christian people… not just one particular social, sexual or racial class of people. 

Daily, television and newspapers continues to report the progress of Anti-Christmas crusaders and their petitions to take away Christianity and their right to worship their Lord and Savior in schools and other parts of the communities. Their highly publicized ventures grow more intense each year. People forcefully trying to pressure government officials into eventually “outlawing” the Christmas and Christianity period. If you could peer into the spirits driving most of these angry protesters, you’d might see that many of them are fueling their “mission” with unresolved issues and bitter pain that continues to accumulate in their hearts. Many of them are protesting their cause to make Christmas solely a “gift giving” holiday minus the display of the nativity scene, church services, prayers before dinner, Christmas plays, and showing of biblical movies.   

Most of these “Anti Christmas” crusaders are using their own personal disappointments and spiritual complexities to take away their innocence of the real blessing of Christ based on some very unfortunate things that’s happening in the church, such as sex abuse on children, infidelity among church leaders, betrayal of trust and persecution from church members, unanswered prayers. They’re fighting hard to thoroughly remove the halo of nativity scenes, angels and cross symbols and raise up the horns of these age-old myths that shimmies down chimneys and eat cookies, “flying” reindeers whose nose glows in a BLOOD RED color, a talking snowman that melts to his death then resurrects himself over and over again through the hands of children who builds him up in the chilling cold holiday snow. They sing of these songs and revere these figures every year, however most of us don’t realize what they are submitting ourselves to, rather intentionally or unintentionally when they gather up our family and friends to partake in these “ritualistic” practices. They get so caught up in getting those cookies and milk ready for Santa, obsess over how many gifts when can get or give their loved ones, bringing Frosty back to life.

For good measure, these people try to balance out their gluttonous, selfishly obsessive behavior by taking a second out of their materialistic world to drop some loose change in the Salvation Army kettle or a few hours working at a soup kitchen to feed the homeless. A gesture to show society that they’ve done their “good deed” to the less fortunate for the holiday season… but starting New Year’s, everything goes right back to the more comfortable, convenient lifestyle of serving the lust of self and the greed of selfish things. Charity is not a one a year, holiday season only thing… charity can be done year round for as little as a few hours a week and it don’t have to always be about money. For those who sincerely cannot afford to give money to the cause of their choice, they can give their time. Of course one should enjoy the luxuries they were blessed to have in their life… but it should be enjoyed with responsibility and with self-control, never taking anything for granted because within a blink of an eye, any of us could become the very people we volunteer in soup kitchens for or give loose change to in that Salvation army kettle.

NO I’m not trying to ruin everyone’s “holiday” spirit. I am only expressing my feelings on this whole hostile take over to remove all Christian undertones and symbols behind the Christmas, or “Xmas” holiday season.  Everyone, including you who is reading this post has the right to your own beliefs and opinions. This is not a post to persuade but rather a post to inform and to some extent entertain the intellect. You have the option of what belief your want to pursue. 

For those who believe in the Christmas season, you have many options on how you chose to go forth and celebrate the Holiday season, based on your own personal beliefs. You have that option to choose between slipping into the hol “I”day spirit or the hol”Y”day spirit. The process is similar, you still have the Christmas tree, the dinners, the enjoyment of family, the presents…. but you also have CHRIST first and foremost above all those things. You have CHRIST at the HEAD of your table and not just a fancy spread and idle toast recitations.

There’s nothing wrong with supporting the “innocence” of childhood by decorating the house with these nursery rhyme like images like Santa Claus and Frosty the Snowman. For me, as  a believer, as long as JESUS CHRIST is in the midst of these activities because after all He IS the REAL MEANING of  the word CHRISTMAS… not “X”mas.

KNOWLEDGE is POWER… Always know who you serve, what you serve and why… whether it be Christmas or Xmas.

Happy HOLYdays,

Arose N Daghetto


Red girl ©

      Written by: Arose N Daghetto


Rebel girl, skin like fire

Tell the Lord your heart’s desire


Dancing doe, blazing tornado

Stirring sandy winds of smoke and shadows


Fire manifests in your human form

The rage of God in the image of a child of corn


Crimson child with hints of scarlet

By product of the Holy Spirit, cosmic starlet


Passion is your paternal, Beauty is your maternal

Elemental in the spiritual, extraterrestrial in the physical


Fleeting blood voyaging through the vien of life

Symbol of a beating heart, pulsing strife


Nature’s princess, the world’s empress

hindered by labor pains of grief and injustice


Red girl wilderness burns like wildfire

As you dance into your Rites of Passage full of desire


Red woman, dance on…

Dance on, Rebel, dance on…

Yell if you must but dance on…

Scream if you will, just dance on…


Carry on in that warrior’s ancestral dance

Until your barren land encounters the tip of chance


Dance with all your might until you find

The Holy Grail and favor of the Divine

Dance until your wilderness is disturbed with light

and the rustling of the trees invades your silent night

and the stomping of your dancing feet ignites

smoke signals over the black trees in clouds of white


Dance strong in the rain, dance through the fall

Dance harder through the snow but most of all

Dance until daylight breaks

and the birds sing

Dance until you achieve your full reign

Dance until the shimmering trees refrain

And The Great Man emerges, saying your name…

Breathless Red child, you survived the storms of womanhood

God has given you a Helper as He promised He would

Now when you dance, you don’t dance alone….

You dance in Holy matrimony…

two warriors plus one.



Poem (Not Picture) © Copyright 2011 by Arose N Daghetto for Quiet Storm Enterprise. 

All Rights Reserved.


                                      By Arose N Daghetto


It’s not easy being a veteran soldier

battling on the frontlines of single life…

The longings, the urges,

the wanting to be wanted,

the needing to be needed,

the loving to be loved…

Living life solo doesn’t compare

To living life spoken for…

There are no purple hearts

only broken hearts.

There are no salutations,

no tributes to my victories

or my fatalities…

See my wounds?

I got this discolored one

across my stomach

when I was a POW:

Prisoner Of being a Woman.

I got this other one along my side

when I was MIA:

Misrepresented In America.

The long welts all over my back

were the number of times

I’ve been whipped by karma

in Vietnam.

The footprints all over my body?

Well, that’s when I was

pounced on by chauvinism

in Kuwait

and strung up by my own burka

in Afghanistan.

I was sentenced

to female circumcision

In Sudan,

Sent back to my homeland

castrated by a man called Black…

I’m caught like a deer in headlights

Trapped in a den of wolves…

Some have HIV

Others have another STD

They’re out to get me…

If I make it out here alive

I’ll reconsider

Proposing to abstinence.

This ugly scar between my breasts

is from all the open heart surgeries

performed by the Great Physician.

He had to exhume my blackened heart

and replace it with a new one…

It was a long process

that took several operations

in order to be reconciled with my body

so I could make it out of intensive care

and into recovery.

People say I’m not missing out on anything

I’d like to see them say that

when they put themselves in my shoes.

I want to see how tough they are

surviving days without the very people

who make their identity;

Their husband and their children.

Let’s see if they can make it twenty-four hours

Being manless, sexless and childless.

Tell me if they won’t crack up

if they don’t drop dead first 

from a massive panic attack.

I can handle those things

because I was born to be a soldier…

preparing for combat is my specialty,

fighting to the death is all I know

I was cultivated that way by society.

I learned the hard way

how to speak up for myself,

and how to handle men

Who like to beat on women.

I take pride in being a soldier

because I have the ability to go without

longer than anybody else can.

There are times I wish I can be a civilian…

I heard a lot about the benefits

to being a lady.

I try to conduct myself as one

but certain circumstances

won’t allow me to be one for long…

I have to cuss people out

after being stood up.

I have to live with being the target

for lovers to execute their PDA in front of…

I spend more time being Superman

than being Superwoman.

I have a lot of Lois Lanes to rescue…

I’m beginning to think I really am


Who has time to be a woman.

when you gotta be the trinity:

mother, father, breadwinner.

That’s how I earned the title Superman

‘cause I can do it all and do it well.

So I must really be a man

wrapped in a woman’s flesh…

a veteran soldier designed for combat

who has plenty of ammunition

(in my mouth and my fists).

There is only one more thing I need

to make my look complete…

and that’s a pair of cast iron balls.

Poem (not pictures) © Copyright 2008, 2011 by Arose N Daghetto for Quiet Storm Enterprise. All Rights Reserved.


                                 Written By: Arose N Daghetto

I’m in a chain gang…

standing in a single file line,

singing the same old love songs

along with all the other

iron slinging women

while pounding on iron hearts

trying to get in

but he won’t let me in.

Back to back to the broke down back

the new man becomes the new enemy…

Status Quo is yelling in my ear

about my biological clock,

torturing me with images

of women in my age range

and younger who been married

or engaged to say the least… 

This line of women slinging iron

is getting thinner and thinner…

I’m wiping the sweat off my brow

noticing I’m doing most of the work

By myself…

My muscles are sore

but I got to keep pounding

and grunting

and singing

much more than complaining

trying to make Status Quo happy

because Status Quo says I don’t get paid

unless I meet it’s expectations,

I don’t eat unless I break through

the very last iron on the crossroads track…

I don’t get revered

unless every train coming and going

comes and goes softly,,,

and smoothly.

Lord, I don’t want to disappoint

Status Quo

I got an ego to find

and reputation to defend…

I’m still working

While seeing my former iron slingers

leaving the tracks for a better life…

They’re being celebrated

for the work they completed

while killing time

on these broken down tracks…

I’m trying to catch up with them

so I can get to where they are…

but I’m losing sight of the goal

and I can’t do that

’cause Status Quo hates

when I take too long

doing the work laid out for me…

Status Quo is watching me like a hawk,

hissing at me everytime my gung goes ho

and my head ’em up goes bottom down

and my grunts turn to groans

and my groans turn to cries

and my cries turn to screams

Lord, why did You create my body

to work slower than everyone else?!

Why did you create my brain

to catch on to things

slower than everyone else?!

Why did you create my features

to fall below the standards of beauty?!

Why did you create me to fail

the paper bag test?!

Why did you create my name

to be associated with words like

least deficient, most imbalanced, truly unfit,

definitely unqualified, a little “off”

and a bit “out there”?!

Lord, why am I still slinging iron

while the rest of the women

are sitting on pedestals

in the finest gowns

sipping champagne

throwing their heads back

giving one of those Miss America laughs

and thanking God they’re not where I am


I make up my own song

since I have no one to choose one

by starting off the first verse

and everyone else follows suit…

I sing through my tears

sing through my aching muscles

sing through my worn out bones

sing through my lust

sing through my loneliness

sing because I got an ego to find

a reputation to defend

and a very impatient Status Quo

to satisfy.

Poem (not pictures) © Copyright 2008, 2011 by Arose N Daghetto for Quiet Storm Enterprise. All Rights Reserved.

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