A More

i prefer to be one
with my
words
yet I occasionally find myself plagued with
casual insecurities
so i dug
in my spurs
and sparred with verbs
until
we
were all
on one accord

a single pilot on this flight
destined for a crash landing
with no airbags

just gas masks
and heavy luggage


because, you see, i am the simplest of men

i am the true blue blood pricked
from those same veins
of contempt that familiarity bred

i am to be neither contained
nor pigeonholed
the sum of my parts
is greater than my whole

because what was said was said
and for such openess i bled
from a wound seared deep beneath the surface
and it's cold outside but this ain't memphis
so there's no explanation for why i'm hot

i was birthed in the in the womb of my doom
punished for my sins
and admonished for my hindsight

i was cleansed of humility
and stripped of of my smile

it's gonna be a while for me to find hope once again
but it's gonna be aiight

because from that same bosom of hope lost
was borne a post-natal muse
atoning for fatal sins as a recluse
until we fell back
and let the cards fall as they may

they say whatever happens, happens, right?
but this game of Black Jack was never the chance I wanted to take
i'm risk-averse and ain't built for such vulrnerability

I am too proud to beg
and too weak to walk away

so my bags may be packed
but the flight ain't even booked yet

i got kicks on my feet
yet i am naked to the world's eye

i am afriad of the man i have become
bewildered by the man i used to be
and not sure which one to embrface and hold close
and which one to shun

so i will end each day as if the next had already begun

and say

as i lay me down to sleep
i pray my soul he'll keep
so please bless us and those that we love
my heart i hope you can heal
and to my mind provide guidance from above

because

i

am

love

amen

no justice, no peace. another black man shot dead in the streets.

"I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired, son
Hope change get here before the revolution come!"

how do you quantify the gut-wrenching psychological effects of urban crime?

to see a human with a hole in his head from a man-made weapon as he lay on a sidewalk is not something that is easily removed from the banks of your memory.

on wednesday, shots rang out in a nearby housing development (si, los projectos, son) and the genius dudes doing the running figured they'd cut through the neighboring park and playground to get away from whoever they were blasting at. it is a playground that my son and i have ventured to plenty of times in the last 3 years and it pains me that this town is poised once again for another proverbial hot ghetto summer where the bodies of young black, latino, and cape verdean men will again drop to the ground limp like the flies we swat on Edisto Island porches.

I am just as concerned and aggravated at today's acquittal of the three officers who shot Sean Bell dead a few hours before his wedding in 2006. How can you not be mad at a system that acquits police officers who are supposed to protect and serve, yet locks a man up for 3 years for tax evasion. How do you qualify such inequitable justice?

I've wrestled between being a fuq-the-police and a fuq-the-n!ggas complex for a long time. Well, fuq both of them. I will admit to being more incensed by the mass murder of cats in the streets by other cats who look like them than by police shootings; because - to me at least - they seem to happen rather infrequently in comparison. Yet, there is no rationale in the world that can refute the fact that an unarmed father/fiancee lost his life unnecessarily from 50 shots.

I gotta defer to Papoose, yo.

My brain is fried, my body is weary, and my heart is heavy. And folks wondered why Michelle Obama said she was just now proud of this country. They took her and Jeremiah Wright to task for saying what was proven accurate today; the more some things change, the more they stay the same. And yet I cannot help but think the outrage and anger felt by many is not as intense and feverish as all of the brothers killing brothers day in and day out; from Boston to Chicago to Philly. Let me go ahead and get back to trying the change the face of my ghetto neighborhood. And hug my peoples tight. Vent over. EOF.

"He got some better manners
but let's see if we get some better policy
Don’t fall for it
it's all tricknology
Hope the change get here
before they try to body me"
-Papoose, "50 Shots"

a refrigerator hums in brooklyn

i worship your tongue
the sweet symphony

licking light
whispering music in this moment
up after

dreaming behind shadows
hot and bare
like a rusted chain
through the sun

i ask
if we can leave
smoothly
go easy

a languid mist
beneath the wind

-an arranged piece found at an atlantic ave loft in the stuy

To the weak, what we do, buck em down, word life

Is success the standard or is greatness the goal?

That was the question posed last night by Randall Pinckett, a brother I have met several times over the last ten years. From first hearing him as a still-wide-eyed underclassmen in 1998, I am still often inspired by this brother who continues to inspire. He is one of those dudes that unknowingly inspired me to aspire. Nowadays, he's mad popular and even more successful and accomplished than when I first heard about him. Nevertheless, the most telling point he made was a simple one during his keynote address at the 40th anniversary gala of the John D O'Bryant African-American Institute at Northeastern University: what you do does not define who you are.

You can be the illest, most degree-having black professional ever. But is your legacy one of making yourself success or greatness? Success means you have accomplished something. Great means you helped others to accomplish something. It is a subtle rearrangement of words that shines light of the definition of self. It could even come off as self-effacing and a bit lofty telling someone they ain't great if they ain't doing something for others. Not everyone responds well to suggestive criticism.

"I'ma bring it to your chest like wind
Then fill your lungs up with all the bull you had within"
Black Moon, "Buck Em Down Remix"

Puff Puff Pass. Don't let life slip by without being fully aware and knowledgeable of all that affects you. Or at least as much as you can. Charlton Heston passed recently. Old school cats know him as a famous movie star. New school mainly know him as a gun advocate and the guy Michael Moore was ragging on in that movie. he and i didn't see eye-to-eye on the whole gun issue. Yet, I hadn't known that he was a supporter of the Civil Rights movement (marched and all). I'll admit to being ignorant to that and not having taken the time to learn more previously. We all have faults. Regardless, rest in peace to him whether he marched or not. We honor those who pass on with remembrances of their legacy. Heston made an impression on me by making me even more of an advocate of anti-violence programs. You just never know how the dice will tumble, huh? Special shout-out to the people that make lasting impressions on me any given day. Big up to those who inspire me to aspire. Word.