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Rose Quartz Manifestos

Rose Quartz Manifestos

Von: Spectrum wave publishing /Rose Quartz Manifestos/ spectrum wave media
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Rose Quartz Manifestos

Black Rose Pearl

Hello, and welcome to a new dimension of story. I am Black Rose Pearl.

You may know me from my work as The Black Pearl on Spectrum Sound Music Bites. But here, I embrace my full name—my full self—to signal a transformation. This is my differential, my other facet.

This podcast, Rose Quartz Manifestos, is where that facet shines. I am expanding my crystal lattice into the vast realms of cinema. Imagine stories born from the deep wells of cartoon features and storybook themes, then elevated into the immersive space of 3D.

Each episode will be a manifesto—a declaration of a world. I will be your guide through original storylines, where epic narratives unfold. I will weave in poetry that cuts and comforts. I will share visions that are lush, bold, and architecturally sound.

Consider this the spicier, more narrative-driven sibling to my music podcast. Here, we don't just feel the beat; we walk the path, meet the characters, and get lost in the lore.

So, if you yearn for tales that are both fantastical and profound, for mythologies whispered in modern tones, you are in the right place.

Subscribe to Rose Quartz Manifestos. Let's manifest these worlds together.

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Black Rose Pearl@2021 Kunst Schauspiel & Theater
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  • One: A Halftime Anthem for the Sunday Sun

    One: A Halftime Anthem for the Sunday Sun
    Feb 10 2026

    One: A Halftime Anthem for the Sunday Sun

    Black Rose Pearl

    Rose Quartz Manifestos

    Copyright@2026

    From dust to dawn,

    Black Cleopatra Coca Jones

    Graced beyond

    the center stage

    By lifting every voice

    Beautiful performance

    Then a fellow Borikén brought

    a teaching lesson from his elders

    ( Tiano) ways

    The drums said for us to dance—so from the cane we rose,

    Not just a beat, but history in our bones.

    A field of sorrow, bitter, tall, and sweet,

    Became the rhythm pulsing in the street.

    The club’s heart, thumping from a Brooklyn room,

    A Bogo light against the colonial gloom.

    And from that field, a young boy’s story told,

    Of ice and concrete, turning brave and bold.

    The native son received the trophy, raised,

    And in that grip, a hundred visions blazed.

    The man said, “Mira, somos uno, brother,”

    Sugarcane and city, recognizing one another.

    Then came the women, radiance unveiled,

    A spectrum where no lineage failed.

    From deep umber to the dawn’s own light,

    They moved as fire, tearing through the night.

    A dance of many waters, one same sea,

    A living testament: We are free.

    Then came the flags, a hurricane of pride,

    Taino sun where our survival’s cried.

    From Borikén to every Carib isle,

    Haiti’s revolution, with a defiant smile—

    Their echoed courage helped to free a continent,

    A debt of strength, a sacred monument.

    Brazil, the South, the Central bloodline’s song,

    A tapestry where all the brave belong.

    Blood. Sweat. Tears. But never, ever fear.

    He poured the truth for all the world to hear.

    Across the years, the struggle stains the page,

    But look at us, assembled on the stage.

    We blemish hate with colors bright and vast,

    With every future, healing every past.

    So let them hear it echo, one by one:

    The field, the club, the father, and the son,

    The dancing light, the flags against the grey—

    We stand together. We are here to stay.

    And in the center, with the Sunday blaze,

    Bad Bunny holds a mirror as a reflection of our days.

    Not just a show, but where the world began:

    To see the Many, and to call them One. "Seguimos aquí"

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    3 Min.
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