I've Got Nothing, Part One

I'll be honest here.

I'm a people pleaser, chronically so. I've got a couple of hypotheses on why I am this way, but it's a real part of me, one that I've had to struggle with for a while. Maybe in my youth, after being picked on one too many times, I decided that I'd learn how to get people to like me.

When you're in elementary school, learning how to get people to like you, want you, want to spend time with you was relatively easy. As long as you had something shiny and new, it was cake. Moving on to middle and high school, the game changed a bit. I had to switch from "having" something new to "being" something new. It wasn't about having the newest Power Ranger or wearing the newest sneakers with the pumps on them. Now, I had to have hair on my face. Instead of having coming books, I had to have the gall to listen to Black Rob and quote half of Biggie's "Ready To Die" album. Remember when cell phones first came out, and everyone engaged in this contest to see who had the coolest ringtone, or who was the nicest with 'Snake'? Yeah. I was on the sidelines, phone-less.

Fortunately, I learned a better way, and I observed how to attract people with a few things and still hold on to a few shards of my self.

Enter T.O.M. 2011.

I didn't know what I was getting myself into. I really didn't. A group of men from all over the Eastern Seaboard were going to the country of Nicaragua for a week together for, to put it simply, God's work. Whatever that may be. 'Being fluid' is what the team leader called it.

I decided to take advantage of this opportunity and leave it all behind. (#teamFE)

At this point, I had amassed a few objects that would entertain (read: trap) friends at my apartment, should they ever show interest. Wanna play Uno? I got that. Feel up to some Madden? I'm not good, but you're welcome to a free win. How's about laughing collectively at my spiffy Chuck Norris poster? Sounds like a plan. I wasn't in my prepubescent mind state, which thought that my stuff defined me, by any means. I had come a long way, but I still knew how to turn around, feel me?

I couldn't take any of this stuff with me. Not to Nicaragua, at least. I told myself, what would be the point? I doubt they have WiFi anyway.

So, off I went into the Central American country, the most expensive, look at me now-esque object being my cell phone. We ventured into a community by the name of San Antonio. Ruggedly developed, this village of people barely had the bare essentials. As a matter of fact, our first day in the San Antonio was part-introductory, part-inventory. We need to know what they needed, and one of those things were doors for their bathrooms - if you can call them bathrooms. They were more like concrete vases melded into the ground with a D.I.Y. infrastructure. Missionaries had come before and gotten the ball rolling on assisting this community on further development; we were basically doing a check-up.

This was not the tourist friendly side of Nicaragua. You won't see this photograph on any greeting cards.

They did not have. Not 'they didn't have much' or 'they didn't have a lot'. No.

They. Did. Not. Have.

The basics, maybe. A few crops of corn and coffee, probably. But the towers of blahblah that I complain about not having enough of? That was a joke, and I instantly felt ashamed.

Ashamed, because just a few days ago, I was in central Virginia, driving in my air conditioned car, anxiously awaiting for Batman: Arkham City to come out. I was trying to decide if it'd be worth it to buy it the minute it came out, or if I should pre-order it.

Ashamed, because after I leave...that's just it. I can leave. I can take my plane ticket and fly right back to security. Sure, I'm poor like church rat, but I still have SO MUCH. Health, health insurance (which are obviously two different things, but worthy of mentioning, given the context), transportation, relative reliability, et cetera.

I built my life around a security of stuff. Even now, I'm starting to feel the effects of the reverse culture-shock. An internal torment; do I want something just because it's available to me? Or do I really need it?

San Antonians, Delirians, the street kids of Matagalpa were surviving off of the bare minimum.

Did I need...anything?

to be continued...

The Reason I Sing

If I

Wrapped my words in gold silk

Spit that real, hard core ilk

Draped each consonant in jewels and rubies, diamonds and pearls

Spoke real enough for the fellas, but smooth enough for the girls

Got my sentences all dressed up and took off the blues

Put on their good clothes and their two-stepping shoes

Would they like me more?

If I achieved platinum status

Resurrected TRL’s mania

Brought home the chops, the hocks in addition to all the bacon

Sold albums and spoke on stages from Bangladesh to Bangkok

Awaken the spirit of David and Hughes, never taking a pit stop

Took a seat on Oprah’s couch

On the account of running my mouth

I wonder

To who’s name would they sing their praises?

Make my mouth speak your words, oh Lord

Because while the wiles of this world

Can take my rhymes and lower their worth

I take my time and put you first

Take my cool and make it burn

So Your love and grace can truly work…

Cuz even accolades someday will fade away

Oh just like me

Yes everything but You, yeah

And many years from now, it won’t matter

How I write the rhymes I do, yeah

Help me get back to the reason I sing for you

All I have in this world are the words that I speak

Words you have given me

All the performance tricks and slam poetic tactics

Tricks of the trade from thee.

Even as they tickle the ears of the critics

and win slam scores

How am I to separate them

from their true author?

In your eyes,

I am your child,

Still learning the alphabet you have given me.

Every sigh and rise, every term and rhyme,

each drop of spit, each line…

And even though they love

My alliteration,

symbolism,

analogies and flows

diction,

inflection

wordplay and prose…

My job is only to serve as a mirror.

Though I speak with emotion, focus on tones with locomotion

Firm like stones and boulders, and moving like the ocean

My words are made

To sing your praise…

Created and formed

To bring you glory

Cuz even accolades someday will fade away

Oh just like me

Yes everything but You, yeah

And many years from now, it won’t matter

How I write the rhymes I do, yeah

Help me get back to the reason I sing for you

Why are we so convinced

a bigger audience

is simply common sense to have?

Why does it seem

That the theme of achievement

Can so easily deceive us

Into believing

That He even

Needs us?

Maybe success

is measured best

by nothing less

than our obedience...

so Father,

help me find you, even if I speak to an anthill

let The audience of One bring my heart thrills

let my soul tremble with the bass, and let me relish in the taste

of your words coming out of my mouth

help me Father…

Help me get back to the reason I sing for you.

The Love Experience [Part 3]: Who?

I think that it's really easy to get desensitized from a lot of things. Even if I tried to make sense of it, it would still come across rather stifled and confusing. My attempts at putting it into words may fall short...

Some of us truly think that there isn't anything severely wrong with the world that we live in. Outside of our neat little boxes, our thought processes aren't adventurous enough to ask those questions, or take a serious look at some of those things. Either we really don't think its that serious, or we'd rather not immerse ourselves in the just-plain-suckyness of the situation at large.

I am beyond guilty for all of this.

Today, I awoke to the sound of my $250-$300 iPod Touch and my $200 Samsung-Android Powered phone, both the latest in their respective technologies. I rolled out of my plush full sized mattress, past my $600 laptop, with thousands of dollars worth of software, updates, files, photos and music. I shivered, because I was standing directly under the vent, where my air conditioning blew cold air on me. I stumbled into my shower, where I adjusted the water to a comfortable warmth, but not before letting a couple quarts flow freely as I used the bathroom (toilet), flushed, brushed my teeth, then showered, all in a brightly lit bathroom.

In the first thirty minutes of my consciousness today, I've already interacted with hundreds, if not thousands of dollars.

And not five minutes after did I complain to myself about how I need to make more money. Or how I don't have enough money.

I didn't even talk about the two Playstation consoles that I own. Or the games that accompany them. Or my camera. Or the car that I drive. Or the three-bedroom apartment that I live in. Or the HDTV sitting in my living room. Or the hundreds of CD's that I own.

We are surrounded by a wealthy contradiction. And maybe my scope on it is skewed. After all, I am a professional college student; after doing it for going-on 6 years, I'm pretty good at it. However, isn't it strange how much we spend, waste, accumulate, all without giving thought or regard to those who are lesser fortunate/blessed?

I won't even venture outside of U.S. borders with this one. Turn on your television at 3am, and you'll have enough conviction there to almost make you cry. No, I'm going to stay inside of our borders.

We have people in our own backyards (almost literally) struggling. People in our church, our schools, our jobs, our families, struggling. They can't eat. They have to decide on whether they use the last $5 in the pocket to for their gas tank, or eating a meal.

There are hearts aching all around us. Some of us are in our comfort zones, tightly so. We have a symphony of peers and friends around us, willing to listen and lend a helping hand. Others struggle with some real stuff (recognize the euphemism). Depression and suicide. Low self-esteem and serious father/mother/parenting issues. Am I good enough mother? Father? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Brother? Friend?

Think about it. Go ahead, I'll wait.

Seriously. Before you continue reading, thinking about it.

How can we really think that love exists in sight of all this un/intentional apathy?

Does love exists? With all our gadgets and friend requests and fantasy leagues and new mixtapes and hot celebrity gossip, does that equate love and beauty? Am I heretic for living in it, but hating it?

I strongly believe that there is a beauty that exists in this life, but that doesn't mean that I don't know it's hard to get to.

In 6 days, the end result was that "it is good". 

And about 2,000 years ago, it got started, because "it (was) finished".

Billions of people on this earth; why should anyone live it alone?  Smiles and laughter and hugs and music and harmony; why should anyone be exempt from this?

What would it take to show that someone cares? What would it take to show that love is real? What would it take to make an impact, leave an impression, touch someone's heart?

More than the mission of various non-profit organizations or charities. Where can this...love come from?

Or...Who?

Monster?...

So, since I'm trying to get back in my groove of writing, I thought I'd take the opportunity and speak out and sound off on something.

A few weeks ago, after returning to VA to continue my pursuit of my Masters in Professional Counseling, me and m'lady's family gathered to eat together at a local buffet spot. General chillness and fatty fat groans were heard and enjoyed all around. As we finished, we stepped outside and chit-chatted a little. We sang some songs, I performed a piece, and then...we started to talk about music.

More specifically, we started to talk about hip-hop. The lightening rod?

Everyone's favorite, Mr. Kanye West.

His single, "Power" had just released an accompanied music video.



After seeing it, I was rather disturbed. And I'm pretty sure that none of the adults there had seen the video. Either way, the parents had an interesting scope on Mr. West. My dad was less than amused about Kanye's antics that had everyone's attention for a while. We spoke for a good bit about what he may have been going through, the direction that his music has been going, from "The College Dropout" to "Graduation" (I'm purposely excluding "808s and Heartbreak" because it doesn't count as a Kanye album to me...imo). I tried to present the perspective of his emotional state after losing his mom, the end of his relationship, etc. We ended speaking more about the need for today's artists to exercise a healthy dose of professional accountability. They may be human, no more privy to the mayhem and emotions of life than you or I, but they are in an amazing place of influence and should hold that responsibility with reverence.

That brings me to the purpose of this post.

I just heard the new song, "Monster".

Has anyone seen Jay-Z's music video for "On To Next One"? If you have, can remember the eerie feeling you felt when you saw all those questionable, random images pop-up? Well, that's kinda how I felt with this song.

(First of all, is this even Kanye's song? In my opinion, once again, Nicki Minaj KILT this song in such a way, I seriously think that this is her song. I mean, seriously. Rick Ross was random, Jay sounded dark and evul as all getout, 'Ye was *meh*, but Nicki? I don't even like her like that.)

I'm all for artistic expression. But some things need to have some for of accountability, some sort of responsibility, some kind of "Hey, maybe this isn't such a great idea. This might do more damage than good."

Seriously. I've heard enough metaphors about being a beast, martian, extra-terrestrial, sick-wit-it, et cetera. But an entire song dedicated to every metaphorical aspect of a monstrosity? How much until it stops being art?

I thought to myself:

1. What will the music video look like? "Power" was creepy enough.
2. Music is supposed to uplift isn't it? Even through the muck of the worst of what you may be feeling, shouldn't some part of it encourage, inspire, speak life? Let us not forget the root of the word...
3. What is Kanye going through? Me and Spoken.Word were talking about Kanye's lyrical content and the changes its gone through. We agreed that it hasn't necessarily grown, just...changed. Like Snoop Dogg's face over the years. (Seriously. How does he look 50 years older in the span of 15 years, but Stacey Dash looks as young as me?)
4. What in the firey heck is up with Minaj's voice/multiple personality disorder?

The response will probably be something like, "It's just music." Please. Saying it's just music is like saying SARS was/is just a case of the sniffles.

The song is straight up and down creepy.

And I wish that the bars were crap. I wish they were wack, not creative, dry and healthy (you know, opposite of sick?). But they weren't that bad. The production was tight. Roster was tight. And even though Nicki bested everyone else on the track, the lyrics were (questionable, but) dope.

I guess I'm coming from the angle that one weak-willed kid who knows no better. I'm wondering how much work is being done to actually add life and beauty to the airwaves. Songs like this, after they earn acclaim, don't help. There will be rallies about this song (I'm calling it now.) and anti-hip-hop speeches all over. Talks about demonic advocacy and "Satan's Music". It makes me sad to see my music set itself up like this.

What say ye? Is this track just another exhibit in fierce and imaginative lyricism? Or is it something to worry about? Is it both? Neither?

Summer Wants/Needs

Wants

• to feel/be treated like a Man
• to attend at least 10 concerts/live performances
• to live life without domestication, un-wasted
• to cook for my family
• to reunite with my elementary school's graduating Class of 2000
• to lose some weight, in an Insane way.
• to effect some lives and change the future
• to make up for the lack of writing I've been doing lately
• to show my dad that he's been right/wrong all this time

Needs

• to learn how to be a better Man of God
• to celebrate Good Music
• to create
• to prioritize
• to show my dad that he's been right/wrong all this time

"That's Just The Way It Is..."

On my Facebook page, I got a message from Kerry Washington. Yes, the Kerry Washington.

I’ve been lusting over her for quite some time now, so naturally, I’d be a little more than shocked.
It read the following:

I’m not going to go into detail about how I found you. 
I am going to make this very simple for you. 
I will be in Virginia for the week, and I am more than interested in you: 
one night only. 
My number is ***-***-****, text if you are interested, DO NOT CALL. 
$$$ will be involved if you need “encouragement”. 
Offer stands for three days.

Of course, I danced back and forth, but I had dreamed of this for years. But…I was still a little suspect.

So I told my girlfriend. I forwarded her the message. This was her response:

Lol, what do you think that means? And money too? 

Shoot, if you don’t, I’ll do it…maybe I can join? 
Seriously tho…let me know ;)



I may be living a fantasy tonight.

Now, obviously, I’m full of crap.

Ask any man who has actually had a situation like this present itself, posting it on any social network could be collectively agreed upon as Not A Good Look, regardless of its moral questionability.

But, if this were my ideal world? This may actually happen.

I would get approached by a lust-worthy starlet, it would be approved by my ladyfriend.

And there would be money in my pocket as a result.

Unfortunately, it is not. Chances are, it won’t happen.

Nor any of the standards and situations that would make this world an ideal one.

·       

• Racism would be abolished. There would be no unspoken reinforced stereotypes, no accepted discrimination, and no more lame “You-know-how-us-black-people-are” jokes.
• Reese’s would be the one healthy food group.
• College debt would be forgiven after the completion of Graduate School and 5 years of employ in the respective field of study.
• R. Kelly would be banned from making music.
• Children under 18 would have no active interest in sexually related activities, and be completely content with Saturday Morning cartoons and hopscotch on the pavement.
• There would be a universal musical standard, with demands like real-life application and 10-word obscenity limit per album.
• People would leave Obama the heck alone.
• Bill O’Reilly/Glenn Beck would shut the heck up.

Those suggestions and more would probably turn this world into a utopia for me.

But…this is not the case.

Bill O’Reilly is still running his mouth, and Conservatives and Liberals are still at odds and ends. I’ll probably be in debt until my 50s. 50 Cent has a new album out that will be hailed as another “gem” in today’s “music” scene, and Obama has the planet watching, hating and scrutinizing his every move. Forget slavery, racism is still alive and well, existing in the most violent of ways. An ideal world, this is not.

So what do we do with this?

There is a saying that states that if something isn’t malfunctioning in some way, why attempt to fix it. And in some contexts, that applies beautifully (If I got a 99% on a paper, I will not hurt myself trying to get that last 1%).

In other cases, I am inclined to wonder…why not?

Discrimination and racial tension is like a wine stain on the fabric of our existence in the country; it is here. And realistically speaking, there is nothing that can be done about it in this generation’s lifetime.

The Center for Disease Control reports that “1/3 of girls get pregnant before the age of 20…750,000 teen pregnancies annually…eight in ten of these pregnancies are unintended and 81% are to unmarried teens…”

Despite being 2008’s most popular, most controversial, most recognized, most symbolic of hope and change, President Obama’s disapproval rating is at 48.3%, while his approval rating is at 47.8%, a steady drop since last January.

And the facts go on and on and on, more than anyone of us can change.

And we live with this. We operate our lives, making room and Segways around it, Kanye-shrugging through, en route to our own comfort zones.

My question is this: What about change? What rule is there that says that we have to live with these culturally accepted, but generally unpopular and questionable laws?

Why live in a racist society, coming up with reasons why it exists and jokes that further propagate the stigma?


Why provide clean needles, strong condoms and Planned Parenthood sites around the country, assisting and appeasing the problem?


I’m not suggesting that we make one man’s rant everyone’s rule. But…we are not idiots. We have a God-given mind that we have the option to use…why not use it? Why sit in a dung-heap and not find a way out?

I guess I’m just tired of hearing about how “that’s just the way it is…”. I believe that it doesn’t have to be this way.


Sure, it makes for a great Katt Williams routine, but…we are thisclose to sitting in our own filth, adjusting to the smell. There is something that we can do, something that can be done. Voting is one thing, but…are we not a community/village?


At the end of the day, I will probably never have a night full of explorative escapades with Kerry Washington. My children will still be seen skin first, Obama or not. But I am attempting to make moves, in my life, to design my life around the constant hope and Greater Good Known as Jesus the Christ to do something, act outside of “that’s just the way it is”, and to make a place where Heaven scrapes the pavement.

Dyna-Mite! Dyna-mite!

As far as classic Black movies go, it's a common joke in my circle that I am really behind the ball. I have apparently missed out on a huge elemental part of my development by missing some cult classics like "Coffy" or "Do The Right Thing". Heck, I only just saw "Purple Rain" a week ago. (I wasn't disappointed...but I wasn't impressed. However, Appolonia got some tig ole' bitties.)

I'm aware that the blaxpoitation genre of movie-making was huge back in the day. In an era that is widely understood as "not-a-good-look" for the Blacks of America, there was that call for something strictly for us. As time went on, and the filmmakers in America started to see the market value in being all inclusive across the production spectrum, blacks started popping up in more movies, getting more play time, more accolades, and better roles. Being militant and explicitly pro-black/revolutionary started to become unnecessary and obsolete, and we started to GET OURS. From Eddie Murphy in "Coming to America" to Eddie Murphy in "The Nutty Professor", things slowly changed.

This is not to say that White America-friendly roles didn't exist in the 1960-1970s. But I do feel that there has been a decline in your typical Pam Grier role.

Enter Black Dynamite. That man that's gonna "shake the tree from the roots, rake up the fruits, rip it up out the ground to find out what's goin down."

I really thought that this movie was a joke, a lame joke at that. Who wants to watch a movie that is such a throwback? Do we really need another "Undercover Brother" in these racially sensitive times? And who the heck is Black Dynamite anyways? How much of a spoof will this be? Never one to lie, I was definitely quite suspect.

That was before I saw the film.

Daggone.

Now, I wasn't around for the 70s. I was barely cognizant for the 80s. I was only exposed to a world of Bill Cosby and Reading Rainbow: happy Black people. I wasn't aware of "The Struggle". And any reference to it in the idiot box was pretty much parodied.

But I have to give much kudos to writers, the producers, actors, all involved with the film, because it must have been a HUGE task to do what this film did for me. Don't think that this is the next Spike Lee joint or some life changing movie, because it's not. You won't hate Whitey, you won't paint the White House black, you won't start fighting with nunchucks. But I feel that you may appreciate how far we've come.

Because it's been a while since a movie thoroughly entertained and excited me. Watching it, I was rooting for the good guy, who was also a B.A.. Not Sam Jackson's Shaft. Not Will Smith's Ali (that was a different inspiration, so calm down). I just...I felt like I was transported to a time where being Black was an actual struggle, a clearly defined one at that. In this country, being anything but White will always resemble an uphill battle, but the heat was UP at that time. While this up and coming generation will be more-or-less fighting to make sense and be relevant without sounding like a track on repeat, a generation before mine, they were still fighting to be HEARD and RESPECTED.

Now, there are tons morally wrong, if not questionable with this movie. Not all black heroes were dang-a-lang swanging, pre-hip-hop rhyming, kung-fu fighting militants. Luckily, I'm in my 20s and not as impressionable. But like I said...it made me feel something solid.

So I urge ya'll to check this movie out. When I say thorough, this flick was thorough. And funny as crap. Can you dig?



Phonte's Movie In A Minute

U KNOW.

The HipRockSoul Project (Intro)

The HipRockSoul Project

THESIS:
Throughout the history of the music scene in America, there have been various sounds and genres. One can almost say that these different genres were like musical personalities. If music genres were people, Jazz would be effortlessly smooth and debonair. Country would be a hard-working homebody. Dance-slash-club music would be a loud personality, dressed in eccentric (probably European) colors and Soca/Dancehall would be a party animal.
Three sounds in particular have grown and evolved into powerful cultural forces in America and across the planet, forces that refuse to wane against the tides of time. Hip-Hop, which fights for the title as the Most Controversial Musical Genre is only a few decades old, but has revolutionized the culture at large. It currently stands as the one musical genre that has faced death and resurrection. Rock, which is deeply embedded in America’s fabric, constantly struggles with identity issues. Soul Music, the genre that blended the sounds of sanctification and sensuality, usually resides in the backdrop, yet still resounds loudly throughout the music scene today.
My thought is this: with three dynamic sounds such as these, what could possibly be the result of the trio’s amalgamation? In other words, is there a place in our iPods for HipRockSoul? It would seem that none of these sounds could survive without the other, but could the three exist in the same set of headphones?
In order to ask this question, we need to understand what each of the individual genres mean to us. Hip-Hop fans will need to be able to define the differences between Hip-Hop and Rap, as well as other questions. Fans of the Rock genre should be able to draw a decent line between which division of Rock they prefer, or if they like it all, inclusive of Punk/Metal/Acid/Adult Alternative Rock. Fans of Soul need to simply know the roots of it, and recognize it as an ancestor of R&B, and not an identical twin.
It would also be very important to understand the role of music in our lives. Some may see it as a extension of themselves, a necessity for day-to-day survival; others don’t see it nearly as important.
BIG QUESTIONS:
• Is the thought of HipRockSoul too abstract to be desired?
• What possible purpose could HipRockSoul serve?
• How to pay each individual genre/culture their deserved respect even in the midst such a sonic delivery?

A Conversation I Had With Myself (On Inauguration Day)

There are three modes that Freud detailed as being a part of our psyche, the Id, Ego and SuperEgo.

The Id speaks on the behalf of the pleasure principle, doing what feels right and answering its biological desire. The Ego stands as the police force, in a way. The SuperEgo is the judicial system of the psyche, standing as the judge, declaring things right or wrong. The SuperEgo can also be understood as a balance between the Id’s irrational pursuits and the Ego’s legalistic tendencies. My Id’s name is Javier. My Ego’s name is Obby. My SuperEgo’s name is Biggs.

From time to time, they sit at a round table and converse with each other. The following is a transcript from such an event.

Biggs: So…ya’ll know that we officially have a Black President, right?

Javier: Whatever. That n*gga ain’t even really all Black. He’s part-brotha. Half-time.

Obby: Javier, you know you ain’t right. And, remember back in the day? Even an ounce a dark in yo’ meat, and you were considered totally Black.

Javier: Oh well. I know he better open up Rikers. My cousin’s been in there since ’96, and he didn’t even do nothin’.

Biggs: Are you serious? He held up a liquor store with a toothbrush and a bar of Ivory soap. Still, no one is completely sure how he killed the cashier.

Javier: He didn’t do it! I was with him, spankin’ that behind on Mortal Kombat with Sub-Zero! At my house, in Phoenix!

Obby: But his fingerprints were all over the place…

Javier: It wasn’t him.

Obby: …and around the cashier’s throat…

Javier: It wasn’t him.

Obby: …and there was a report of him buying several rounds of shotgun rounds earlier that day.

Javier: It wasn’t him.

Biggs: Are you just trying to be ignorant and callous?

Javier: It wasn’t him.

Obby: (Sigh) In any event, I know that this is supposed to be a really huge day for America, especially for African-Americans, all across the country. I mean, we just swore in the country’s first non-white president. But I’m still kinda…reserved about him. I just…don’t agree with all of his policies.

Javier: And? Man, eff any that got a problem with my Black President! We fidna paint that motha BLACK! Cookouts and Block Parties all over DC!

Biggs: Didn’t you just dismiss him as only half-black?

Javier: BLACK PRIDE!

Biggs: What is wrong with you? Do you even have a stance?

Javier: Look, this country ain’t done nothing for me, but raise my taxes and called me a n*gg*r. I got the right to have some kind of pride about this whole thing. (Starts singing “Oh Happy Day” from Sister Act 2)

Obby: I understand that. But you shouldn’t really act out. You might offend someone.

Javier: Hey, who has two thumbs and doesn’t give a crap? Javier Id, at your service.

Obby: But what about abortion? What about the economy? Seems kinda sketchy to me.

Javier: Look, things are fidna change. Baseball is no longer a national past time. Sales for ribs are about to go through the roof! It’s a celebration, snitches!

Biggs: You do know that nothing’s going to really change immediately, right?

Javier: Like what?

Obby: He has a point. Being a president doesn’t mean you just do what you want with the country.

Biggs: Not just that. Wheels are going to start turning, yes, but there’s more that has to be done. Especially on our part.

Javier: Whatever, n*gga.

Obby: This is true. The waves of his election and presidency will effect more than current issues. For example, his family has quickly become the new model for fatherhood, being supportive wives and husbands…

Javier: Oh, you talkin’ about Michelle? With her fine behind…

Obby: Javier! That’s the First Lady you’re talking about like that!

Javier: Shoot, I’d vote for her any day…she could be MY First Lady…

Biggs: That’s disrespectful. It’s a good thing you’re not anywhere near the White House.

Javier: …all of that brown goodness…

Obby: At the end of the day, right is right. There’s nothing we can really do about it. Pride aside, I just can’t agree with his stance on abortion. I’m sure he’s a great guy, but I really hope he handles this presidency properly.

Biggs: Exactly. We need to pray for him and how he handles this country for the next four years. We need to pray for his daughters and his wife…

Javier: …bootybuttcheeks!

Biggs: …and we should also keep in mind that we are Americans together. We may not like him, his policies or anything else, but just as how we had to respect our last President…

Javier: Eff Bush.

Biggs: …we should show him his due respect. And look forward to the future with eyes of optimism.

Javier: BLACK PRIDE!

Goodbye 2008. Hello 2009.

Flows in Prose

A Collection of Poetry

By N.Steven

Book Preview

The He(art) of My Hustle

So.

I'm starting to get pretty shameless. I am amazingly close to printing out my debut collection of poetry, but the only thing in my way is the funds I need to pay for the printing cost ($800 bones).

Naturally, I don't have eight hundred dollars. I don't even have $8. And without a job, it gets that much harder.

Therefore, I have decided that lil' ol' me will try my hand at this hustling thing. Not anything illegal or morally compromising, (although I do have a source that might be able to get me some connects, ya digg?), but something more of my forte. Like my art itself.

It makes sense to me. Besides, it'll give me a chance to stretch my lyrical versatility.

So tell your friends. I am officially a poet for hire. $5-10 a pop.

A Little Bit o' Pledge.

I hereby aim to speak nothing of politics until November 4th. This election has engaged every emotion in my body, and I don't really think I could take it any more.

I am definitely registered to vote, but with Election Day less than a week away, I really need to retreat inside of myself before voting. I've had more than enough help from the media, classmates, professors, family and friends.

So.

Nothing about Obama, McCain, Palin, Biden or the political state of America until the clock strikes 12am on Nov. 4th.

Game-Changing Ways

I was just playing around. I'm actually supposed to be finish a paper due in an hour.

I'm looking forward to seeing someone collab.


Daily I meditate on my game-changing ways
Like the aim, distance and range for mind-blowing plays
I might be playing, but still I'm saying, gotta go hard with the pen
Because even if I don't succeed, this Bic will try again.
I like the surprise of the crowd and weight of my words
Lyrically heavy-lifting with the purpose it serves.
Sometimes bars aren’t enough, I need a dash of def poetic
Drop bombs on stages and scales, I'm talking metric.
I’ll take a break and just pretend that I’m on a verbal gameshow
Then brush off the smile, and “Go Buck For The Angels”.
Heaven is where I wanna be, I’m Donell Jonesin’ for that residence
And it concerns me so much more, than the choice for our future president
This world is ill and fractured, I keep my mind about my craft
Make sure every line is nice and precise, but slightly daft.
Still, can’t ignore what’s all around me, I’m in, not of its jacked-up ways
So daily, I meditate on my game-changing ways.

New "We Are The World"?

I know that I've been posting nothing but vids for the past few posts. However, I just got this one in an email, and I actually got shivers while watching it. My own personal views may not line up seamlessly with the ticker at the bottom of the video, and I do believe that there is quite a bit of media bias that exists (which makes me take everything I hear on the news with a pretty hefty grain of salt). However, I love that people are getting involved, getting passionate, getting IN IT.

What If This Works?

I stoled this from Stereohyped, and I agree. Don't vote, like Leo said.

It's nice to see that the superstars are getting all involved and such. It's so nice.

If That's The Case...

I've been wondering about something these past few days.

(Real)Hip-hop is known for his truthfulness, its authenticity. From Kool Herc to Mos Def, the longest lasting artists in the game are known for simply keepin' it real, at art form truly perfected by those in the game. And you can bet, if there's any b*tch*ssedness going on in Hip-Hop, there'll be some kind of noise about it. Somebody somewhere will do any interview/diss track/mixtape about it, directed at fake cats.

My question is, what happens to these fake, frontin', foolish emcees? I mean, everybody talks about them, about how they never did half the stuff they rhyme about, how they never sold drugs a day in their life, they're still a virgin, et cetera. Why haven't we weeded these suckas out yet? You'd think that with all this complaining, somebody would be getting the beat down. But it doesn't seem like anything is being done about it.

I've got more than a few ideas about who these wankstas are, but when do we start naming names?

All I'm saying is, there doesn't seem to be any reduction of lameness. There should be some kind of public beating for these fools, just so we know that something is being down about this.

Or is just all accusations? Is hip-hop just pointing fingers at who "seems" fake? Like Papa Doc/Clarence from 8 Mile, its time for someone to get put on BLAST. That's all I'm saying.

From Common

Chi-town emcee Common has been an advocate for HIV/AIDS awareness for a while now. While checking my MySpace, I noticed that he had a new bulletin up. It's a contest, offering a poet/songwriter/artist a chance to have Common perform their lyrics. Check it out here for more detailed information. Below, I have copied and pasted this from XXLmag.com.

Common and MTV Networks have teamed up to host the “A Minute” lyric writing contest to encourage HIV testing amongst young people. In order to enter, contestants must submit an original lyrical composition that will inspire and encourage listeners to get tested for HIV. The piece can be in any musical style; including rap, rock, or spoken word, but must be under one minute long. The winning submission will then be performed by Common in an ad that will air on the MTV networks and online. The competition begins today and is open to anybody between the ages of 13 and 25. In order to enter, you can submit your lyrics in text, audio or video form at the contest website www.aminutecontest.com. Submissions must be received between February 14 and March 27.

I thought about submitting something, then I realized that I didn't really care too much about having someone else perform my lyrics.

But I do support the cause. I guess in the end, awareness/action is what's important.

BUT.

This is my little tidbit. After I read the information on the website, and while I was thinking about whether I would submit something or not, this is what I came up with.

See,

We breath life and death in quick, short doses

Grow in youth and get old real soon, like Moses

Souls meet droves of hold ups, won’t hold us

Feed mine with signs of peace, beat these snakes and cobras

Hold the phone and the voicemail, answer calls for mo’ trust

Trust me. We cannot collect hope with mo’ dust

Instill motivation and movement, this revolution needs focus

We must take strides, take pride, because we alone will hold us

This is more than latex, dispose the lies they told us

This is more than a bump-n-grind, more than 2, 3, 4 thrusts

We need to make certain moves, made to continuously mold us.

Enough with dishing raw deals, dealt some boloney, like cold cuts

Get it preened and pristine, like from naps to ‘fro cuts

Knowledge helps, know who, know why and know what

Will help get it moving forward, digest, no throw ups

And keep your game up, because the future needs all of us.

Things To Do Pt.2

By now, anyone who might've been reading this knows that I like to write. No one, other than photographers and boy-crazy bandies, really write blogs unless they...like it.

I've been in a little bit of a dilemma. I like writing short stories, affectionately known as "Shorts". I don't know if I'm going to post them here, but along side that, I don't know what else to write. Its not that I've written about every single topic known to man, but I also want to write about some else, something new.

So, in an effort to stimulate my brain cells and agitate my fingers, I've concocted a list of short story topics that I aim to address/write about in the future. To whoever is reading this, if you have any ideas, feel free to comment or something.

Also, leave a note on whether I should post any of my previously written shorts.

Highlighted = Already Written/In Process

1. Committing Murder
2. Writing Process
3. (Female POV) Confusing Men
4. (Male POV) Confusing Women
5. Triangle Trilogy
6. Leaving Home
7. Understanding Black Culture
8. Aging 50 Years Overnight
9. Letting Love Go
10. Letting Love In
11. Trusting God
12. Being a Female for One Day
13. Being Black in the 50’s
14. Forbidden Love
15. Running Away
16. Conversation w/God
17. Everyday Embarrassment
18. Being Racist
19. Being Invisible
20. First Kiss
21. Age Changes/Periods (8-15-18)
22. Family
23. Open Mic Experience
24. Saying No/Yes to Sex
25. July 4^th
26. December 25^th
27. January 1st (In-Process)
28. February 14^th
29. Black History Month
30. Hate
31. Lust
32. The Prom
33. Being Homeless
34. Hating/Loving America
35. Not Caring
36. At A Concert
37. Being a Rapper/Hip-Hop Artist/MC
38. Ugly Babies/Beautiful Babies
39. Being Blind
40. Showing Off
41. Wack Poets
42. Being Broke/Rich
43. Infidelity