An exotic bird, caged wit the rage and the violence of my words

We proceeded on a country road
His mother's eyes withered swoll
Her child was never coming home
Said a prayer for his soul
As the coffin had closed
Committed to the earth below
First seed she would sew
Would be a tree never grown
Shade that was never known
Who controls the Terrordome
The member hearts made of stone
Who love only what they own

throwback. google it.

You plus me, it equals better math

i'm tired, but i'm going live
-DJ Whutevva

that's my dude right there. had to shout him out for this one.

Who Am I

I used to be mother earth
birthing bass riddims
from the pit of my belly
to the tip of my tongue

I wanted to be the haunted waters
at the bottom of the Atlantic
still crying in pain from the
kidnapping of the sun/son

i just might be the gulf stream breeze
that flows to and fro with no
obstacles in my path

I hope to be the throbbing heart of
street scholars overcoming adversity
knowing son this too shall pass

I am the fire
ignited in the belly of the beast
smoldering throughout years of neglect
in full effect
and about to catch wreck

i will be that missing element
that soothes your soul
finishes your sentences
and makes you whole

i am love
i am pain
i am joy
i am rain
i am somebody
i am your daddy
i am god's son
i am a diplomat

i am the blood that flows through your veins
so prick your pores and let's get lifted

when they tried to use her vocab, they sounded sloppy

"You Never Know" by Immortal Technique
If you've never heard of son, let this be your first taste. If you only know about his militant raps, let this be a new perspective. If you still think hip-hop is dead, be easy.

I don't need you to correct my broken English

You wanna be the big fish, you little guppy
Black man can't be no yuppie
-Ice Cube, "True To The Game"

They were aiming for the whites of their eyes
But that was until they came
face-to-face
and realized the features were the same
yet the two-to-five bids that got handed out
like networking mixer business cards
were merely gift certificates
for free lunch vouchers and
half pints of chocolate milk

We don't drink from the same well no more
because all we do is fear our fate and
push away love when it seeks us out
we give strong daps and chest pounds
but you rarely see two brothers hug
though they both may need one

I used to be a devout quasi nympho-atheist
only believing higher spirits were responsible for those times
i felt fucked over-easy like western omelettes
and my misfortune outweighed my misery
my attempts at humility were seemingly honest
but not everyone was convinced of such

so now as the some of the boys become men
and go from chasing fast girls to straight-up
fasting
for health's sake (and for girls)
while some of the boys still are stuck on stupid
remaining in those gerbil cages running in circles and spinning their wheels
digging deeper and deeper
into an entrenched lifestyle of complacency
eying with a hint of disdain the fun-loving neighbors
who drive by on the daily without even as much as a head nod
of acknowledgment

we were taught to bob and weave
but now it's duck and dodge
as voices that were once strong beacons of respect around the way
have become muted shadows of hesitation

grown and sexy versus BYOB
we all used to be down with OPP & BBD
we was even making dollars with EPMD
but half of the crew split with the Hit Squad
The rest seceded with Parrish
the unity perished
crew love was no longer cherished
ladies and gentlemen, it's the young professional versus the young buck
the question of apathy and complacency
the new mental dilemmas that faces the neo-negroe of today

Pain and more pain's the only change I know

A message to my son, it's times in my life
where I stood around to fight when it was better off to run
-Styles P, "Leave A Message"

the perils and promise of masculinity. what is it to truly man up? is it to stand your ground and hold shT down or know when, where, how, and why to pick your battles. it's a topic that has racked my brain for many years. some of my male role models spanned the full spectrum of masculinity, from full-blown gangsters involved in crazy shT to god-like father figures who served as the Mayors of their block*¹ to sensitive types and others who avoided confrontations seemingly at all costs. Styles "Message..." joint is ill in its simplicity. He's leaving you a message as he's asking you to leave one as well. It made me think of how that compared to the new TI and Jay-Z joint called, "Watch What You Say To Me." That whole being masculine and tough without having to really do much posturing debate.

It is an interesting discussion to engage in where the conversation can become so heated that is a microcosm of what is being discussed. we can become so engulfed in defending our own beliefs (turf) that we engage in behaviors that, while they may be face-saving, are also self-effacing and defeating in their naivety and short-sightedness. they say our arms are too short to box with God, so instead we spar with mortals in a fight for dominance and control. we are indirectly taught to grab our nuts, mean-mug, and posture when we want to assert our bravado. it is implied that we have to knuckle up at the slightest disrespect. and some have interpreted the shoot first, ask questions later mantra as akin to getting my shine before you get yours. there's much that could be said about the causes and solutions violence. there is a world or destruction and hate that permeates our daily lives. it's bigger than your block. than your city. your country.

for context, the editorial below was in today's Boston Globe and brought all of these thoughts to my brain.

A call for action on teen violence
By Isaura Mendes | July 6, 2007

I am a mother from the Cape Verdean community in Boston, and I have lost two sons to murder. My older son, Bobby, was stabbed in 1995. Last year, just before Mother's Day, my son Matthew was killed in a drive-by shooting just a few blocks from my home.

The three years after Bobby's death were terrible for me. I was depressed and stayed in my house all the time. Then in 1999 I got involved and became a peace activist. Over the years, I have gone to many funerals, helped hundreds of parents bury their children. It is always hard, but the last couple of weeks have been especially terrible.

Our city has seen so many tragedies, but the death of Liquarry Jefferson was worse than anyone could imagine. An innocent 8-year-old lost his life, an innocent 7-year-old was turned into an accidental killer, and a 15-year-old brother, who may have owned the gun, will have to live with this horror for the rest of his life. Our children are beautiful, but this sickness of violence in our community is destroying them.

I know that Boston Mayor Thomas Menino is angry when he calls for a "war on guns." I want to get rid of the guns, too. I know that the Rev. William E. Dickerson II, is trying to make a point when he calls this 8-year-old "a little warrior," but violent words will not bring us peace.

Our voices are powerful. Our words make a difference. The children listen to what we say and learn from our actions. We have to teach them that love is the answer. Even when they do wrong, we have to correct them with kindness and build them up. We have to keep telling them to stay in school. We have to make opportunities for them so they won't end up in the jails or in the grave.

Six weeks before my son Matthew was killed, he went to England to talk with the young people about peace. While he was there, he found his voice. He said to me, "I'm going back to Boston to speak up for what is right and I won't let anything stop me."

Matthew knew from personal experience how hard it is for the older teens in the neighborhoods. There are so many wonderful summer programs for younger children in Boston, but when they turn 18, they can no longer participate. If they have a CORI (criminal offender record information system) record, there are very few places they can go.

This year in the city of Boston, over 3,000 young people from poor families applied for summer jobs through ABCD, one of the few organizations that serves youth ages 18 to 21 who already have a criminal record. The lottery was held last week and there is only enough money to make jobs for 1,000 of them. That is not right and we have to do something about it.

This Sunday at the Bobby Mendes Peace Legacy 8th Annual Parents and Children's Walk for Peace, we will dedicate a special fund in Matthew's memory. The Matthew Mendes Courage Fund will create training and jobs for young people, especially those ages 18 to 21 who don't know which way to go and are already in trouble with the law.

Our goal is to help every child discover his or her purpose and voice. Our dream is that every young person in Boston who wants a job this summer will have one. This terrible tragedy of Liquarry's death must be a wake-up call for our city. We must all become role models for our children and learn to speak the language of peace. We must join together to take care of all our young people, especially those who are in trouble and in pain. If we can do this, then Liquarry will not have died in vain.

I lost two sons to murder, but I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I want you to take action. Support a program in the community. Reach out to the young people in your neighborhood and let them know that you love them.

Everyone can do something. Everyone has a role to play. With God's help, we will bring peace to the city if we all do our part.

Isaura Mendes is a peace activist and founder of the Bobby Mendes Peace Legacy.

*1: I borrowed that one from K. Gotta give credit where it is due. Good looks.