monday morning briefing

The objective view from the mirror above
was closer to fiction than it appeared
in the media's immortalizd memories of martyrdom

We proudly shunned the cajoling overtures
of the jump-out boys on our award tour
from the south ward of this city of bricks
where they lay five down by and with the trey-

pounds and daps no longer resound like thunder claps
in these midnight blue steel skies
now its caps that got peeled from
former riverfront mill towns to chill town
where we simply stand sentry and catch a glimpse
of ground zero from afar

so our silence is our complicity
at first glance, the simplicity of block corner violence is in its pervasiveness
but after the double-take
it is evidenced by the self-defense mechanisms we use
to shut ourselves down
while we've wasted countless thousands of cuffed wrists
with an iplicit acceptance of this recidivist sense
of upheaval, dismay, and concession
where gin and juice go two for one like jolly ranchers
to suffice as our elixir
and mixed with the reoccurring agony of Watts riots
that pale in comparison to the collective mind-numbing
that decades of banging has brought forth

we used to play on courtyards lined with wood chips
and dotted with pride-colored equipment
but now next to the swings and slides
you can find paraphernalia of a different kind
and the tags that were once abstract poetic works of street artisans
are now illegible ghetto hieroglyphics
devoid of subtle beauty and meaning
backdropped against sand lots
where time passes like silent gas that sneaks up
and chokes the life you of your lungs
and the blocks we posted up on from thursday to sunday
become fodder for monday morning briefings
that come as no surprise
the mastheads may be different
but you can surmise that the headlines are all the same
from richmond to hialeah
dorchester to strawberry mansion
non-grown dark-hued boys had their souls sapped
and muted hymns and belated hallelujahs only served to
temporarily console the emotions of
already-empty-hearted youth
across the country
with no poise
no purpose
and no path to get where they need to be
so we crowd these church pews to mourn and pay homage to
loved ones long lost and simultaneoulsy seek solace in the
comfort of a safe haven
not those cold sidewalks of america's hoods
where they can avoid the same scenes
the same yellow tape
the flasing lights
of yet another barren block riddled with
barricaded windows
and hollow shell souls searching for meaning
searching for reason
as rainy seasons wash away our tears and
the spilled blood of yet another young black male that once dripped
on this very spot where we casually pour something out
and struggle just to get a grip

You know ain't nothing changed but my limp

Ten years from now we'll still be on top
Yo, I thought I told you that we won't stop
-Mase, Puffy, BIG, "Mo Money, Mo Problems"

Just stab me in the neck now. I had planned to write this nice little recollection of the last decade. But then reality tapped me on the chin.

I lie to you not. 10 years to the hour, son. Irony is a mutha.

So peep this. I graduated from high school on June 6th, 1997. It was a great day. A little overcast and a slight drizzle. I had the green hornet at the time and did my little bit of errands and was finally making my way up Spruill Avenue to get to Sterrett Hall in time for the ceremonies. So I'm approaching the Chicora neighborhood and wouldn't you know it; some blue lights start twinkling in the periphery. "Nah," I mumble to myself, "this bum cannot be sweating me." Sure enough, I got pulled over and issued a moving violation. The indiscretion? I didn't have my head lights on in the rain. Now, ain't that some bull?

Fast forward a decade. Different state. Different whip. Different hood. Same ole bull. Only this time, she said I should expect a citation in the mail. Maybe if it was a heinous violation, I wouldn't be so heated. Or maybe if some dude who probably roams Dudley Square on the regular didn't piss on the sidewalk about 2 minutes later after they walked off. I am so pissed right now it ain't even funny. Just straight up messed up my whole demeanor for the rest of the week.

So now, I'll have to save my ten year recap and add a day or two to it refocus my thoughts.

i'm maintaining without mantanning

"People pay for what they do, and still more for what they have allowed themselves to become. And they pay for it very simply; by the lives they lead."
-James A. Baldwin

Apparently, i have 1,928,877, 245 seconds to live beacuse I am scheduled to die on Thursday, July 19th, 2068. That is, of course, according to deathclock. But that sure does beat some of the previous estimates I once believed. It's a wonder what self-esteem can do for a kid. Believe it or not, there used to be a point in time where I didn't think I'd live to see my 21st birthday. It was a persistent fear that hovered over me constantly like the grim reaper with a Champion hoodie and a beeper kept checking up on me every other week. But I never felt as though I was ever destined for success. And I do not consider myself in any way successful right now. It's just a matter of comfort. Material possessions are a little easier to obtain nowadays. And I've never been a fan of paying to go out. But every few weeks or so, I stumble upon life's brick wall of humility and chip my tooth while trying to take a bite out of reality.

So this is just my way of putting some thoughts down once again to keep my mind stimulated, my hopes high, and my energy focused. I come across people of all walks of life on an almost daily basis that offer me a brief, small glimmer into their respective lives. But as a collective, they allow me to see the world through their eyes like the kaleidoscope of potential and promise that it should be. And the reflection is eternal because the mirrors through which i gaze help me to stay grounded as best I can and reinforce the need for me to live up to the promises that I've made and the potential and promise that I pledge not to waste. I've done my share of dumb sT in life. Some of which the world will never hear about. And I will probably do some more though not-as-dumb ish. So I write this as I continue to do what I can for those that can use my help; especally the youth of America and in particular the young black males like me who get typecasted as destined for failure when in fact they just need somebody to hold them down and help steer them in the right direction. Somebody did it for me and I think I turned out aiight. It's only right that I try to do the same. Only when I've done all that I can, can I truly rest in peace.