Chicago Authors

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Comment by Sonja Cassandra Perdue on October 9, 2011 at 2:30am

Comment by Sonja Cassandra Perdue on July 20, 2010 at 12:59am

We are seeking topic specific authors for workshop panels for the Black Wall Street National Convention & Summit scheduled for August 20 - 23, 2010 in Chicago.
Women In Business
Legislative Plan of Action
National Overview of City Planning
Black Contractors
Black Wall Streets' Chicago Youth Agenda
Business Networking Strategies
International Trade
Black Church Economic Agenda
Follow The Money
Strategies for Black Wall Street Districts
Black to Green National Technology Agenda
Product Development
Marketing and Advertising Strategies for Black Businesses
Business Development

Visit our national website at www.BlackWallStreetDistrict.com

Or, contact us at 312-239-8835

Sonja Perdue
National Convention & Summit Coordinator
Black Wall Street

Comment by Kim Wilson on September 7, 2009 at 3:35am

Beautiful graphics.
kimkologne.synthasite.com

Comment by marc livingston on July 19, 2009 at 11:07am

From A Man's Point Of View, July 1, 2009
By Tinisha Nicole Johnson (Denver, Colorado) - See all my reviews

"The Confessional Heart of a Man" was like reading a life story told in different stages in poetic verse - from a man's point of view. From social issues, politics, love, relationships, marriage, and more. I was glad the author touched on so many topics. He was in synch with his mind, and from a man, I appreciated that, and had to at the very least respect it. Sometimes I felt anger through the authors voice. While other times, I sensed an urge for understanding and expression.

I may be wrong, however I sensed the chronological order of the poetic nature of each page. There were various poems with different themes, some very romantic, while others just told the truth, bold and aggressive. Yet other poetry pieces were controversial and up for debate. You could very well feel the different emotions while reading - whether those emotions were your own or derived from the author's voice and style.

I enjoyed the rhythmic tone and voices I heard throughout the pieces. It's hard to know what is going through a man's head, and by reading "The Confessional Heart of a Man" was both interesting and surprising. While reading this book, it became evident that men feel deeply as do women, however expressed and suppressed very different.

I would definitely recommend "The Confessional Heart of a Man" to anyone who likes poetry and to anyone who'd like to read a thought provoking book in poetry style. I'd also recommend this book to any women, especially a Black woman who wants to get in the head of a Black man and understand what's going on inside both his mind and heart.

Tinisha Nicole Johnson
Author/Writer/Poet

Comment by marc livingston on July 19, 2009 at 9:48am

MY NAME IS MARC LIVINGSTON, AND I FROM THE SOUTHSIDE OF CHICAGO! I AM A MEMBER OF THE LEAGUE OF EXTRAORDINARY POETS AND AUTHOR OF THE BEST SELLING, CRITICALLY ACCLAIMED :THE CONFESSIONAL HEART OF A MAN"! LOEP!

Comment by Vincent Lewis on July 14, 2009 at 7:41pm

A product of Chicago's South Side checking in here. I am Glad to see Chicago authors have a place to discuss issues unique to our home.

Comment by Soul on March 26, 2009 at 12:09pm

Hello Everyone...I'm glad to be here...

Comment by Diane Martin on July 31, 2008 at 7:13am

Hello everyone...

Comment by PC Marks on July 20, 2008 at 12:40pm

Grandparent’s Rules

Alicia was awakened in the wee hours of the morning to the phone ringing. Initially, she thought she had dreamed of the ringing. When she reached for the phone all she heard was a dial tone.
Unable to fall asleep, she turned on the television. Henry’s snoring agitating her, she got out of bed. Downstairs next to her daughter’s favorite chair resting on the solid oak table beside it in the living room was her salvation.
She picked up the bible, closed her eyes and opened it. The passage revealed was the 23rd Psalms. Verse four slapped her hard. Ye, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For You are with me: Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood. There were goose bumps forming down her arms. She began to scratch. Alicia closed her eyes. A startling vision dropped her to her knees. Tears rolled down her face. The phone rang. Hesitantly on the third ring she grabbed the receiver.
“I know. What happened?” Grandma Alicia listened carefully to the details being given on the other end. “What!” She interrupted. “I’m sorry, continue,” she said.
Grandma Alicia returned the phone receiver to its cradle. She went into the kitchen. Looking around, she started rearranging. Talking to herself she said, “The spices belong over the stove, not in some rotating shelf beside the sink. I think the lids should be in this area and the pots and pans over there.”
Henry was awakened by the racket. He descends the stairs taking in the view of his daughter’s beautiful home. He marvels at the plush light beige carpet his feet sink into as he winds down the stairs. The living room is elegant with its dark tan and mahogany wood Queen Anne furnishings. The formal dining room is decorated with a solid oak eight seat table. There’s a matching China cabinet and hutch. He enters the kitchen to find Alicia rearranging what used to be an immaculate kitchen.
Before speaking he takes in the sight. An island sits in the middle of the floor. The cabinets are oak with stenciled glass displaying expensive dinnerware. The design on the glass is identical to the China cabinet doors in the dining room. The breakfast nook overlooks the professionally manicured backyard.
“Ya momma didn’t teach you to say good morning?” Alicia says, interrupting Henry’s admiration of his daughter’s home.
“Good morning,” Why are you rearranging this child’s things? I think you enjoy antagonizing Ann. Alicia you can’t do this.” Henry tried reasoning with his wife.
“Put her things back where she had them,” he said.
“She won’t need them,” Alicia continued setting up her daughter’s kitchen. She offered Henry a cup of coffee, finished setting up the kitchen and began preparing a hardy breakfast.
The sun was shining brightly through the beautiful bay windows. Breakfast had the entire house smelling beautifully. A quiet peaceful day was dawning. Grandpa was determined to not let Alicia ruin his.
Carl was awakened to Charles’ screaming. He rushed to his crib. He changed his diaper, gave him his bottle and held him in his arms. He wouldn’t stop wailing.
Caroline heard the noise. Upon entering her old room she said, “The walls were pink not blue, the crib white, not this ugly brown. Strawberry Shortcake decorated the wall border not the stupid baseball, basket ball, football and hockey stick border with that stupid mobile hanging from the crib to match.” She turned to leave the room.
“Help,” Carl said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. Go get Grandpa or something,” he demanded.
Caroline grinned. She leisurely strolled down steps she normally took two at a time. Casually entering the kitchen, she told the Grandparents, “That baby is acting up again, think you can do something.”
Alicia continued preparing breakfast ignoring her grandchild. Henry shakes his head side to side as he makes his way up the stairs.
“Okay, Okay. It’s alright. I’m here now.” Charles continued wailing. Grandpa Henry asked, “Has he been changed? Maybe he’s hungry?” The three, Charles being carried by Grandpa, Carl holding his free hand headed down stairs.
Carl sensed something was wrong. The gnawing feeling in his gut made him uneasy. He held on tight to his Grandpa.
Grandma Alicia stared at the howling baby. She approached Grandpa Henry. “Give him to me.” He bent over to place Charles in her arms. Grandma Alicia and her grandson’s eyes locked. He quieted.
She asked Carl to wipe down Charles’ high chair as she set the dining room table. Carl told her, “We eat breakfast in here,” he said pointing to the built in breakfast nook. She ignored him continuing to place breakfast in the center of the dining room table.
As she finished setting the table, she called for the grandchildren and Henry. Grandma Alicia explained the rules. “When you are called for breakfast, lunch or dinner, it will be in here. You are to thank God for receiving the blessing of food. You are not to eat or drink before grace is completed. You are not to leave the table without asking to be excused.”
Caroline and Carl’s eyes met. Carl couldn’t shake the eerie feeling. Caroline was unusually quiet. Her lips thinned, an evil glare watched her Grandmother.
Grandma Alicia continued on with the rules. She lowered her head, raised her joined hands inches from her face and closed her eyes. Lord we come to thank you for this nourishment. We ask that it does what you intend. That it keeps us healthy provides us with strength. Thank you for blessing us with these children. Help us guide them in the path of righteousness. As we embark on this journey of raising them, we ask for strength and courage to go forward.
She became quiet. Carl, Caroline and Grandpa Henry all opened there eyes. Grandma Alicia continued.
Help these babies deal with the loss of there parents, Jesus’ name, amen.
The days that followed seemed to take place in slow motion. Swarms of church goers were in attendance. The food seemed to never stop coming. Neighbors stopped by to pay there respect. Everyone hugged, kissed and assured the children they would be okay.
Charles wailed through the whole service. Carl was inconsolable, his wailing at times drowning the sound of his brother. Caroline stared. A far away glazed expression, she never shed a tear.
Grandpa prayed for the peaceful rest of the living children’s soul, the deliverance of the souls of Ann and Kevin, the softening of his cold heartless wife.
Kevin and Ann Grover were buried side by side in the Grover family plot next to Kevin’s parents. The going home celebration took place on the very day they were due to return home.




Severed Family Ties soon to be released