untitled (late 90s)

Life is love, and love is life.
Through all of the stress, strain, and strife.
Some walk while some run.
Some are just beginning while some are just about done.
Some are rich while others are poor.
Some are satisfied, and some want more.
Some know the road to paradise.
Some don’t know if they are men or mice.
When you approach that fork in the street,
will you know which path to beat?
Left or right, day or night?
Are you at peace, or do you like to fight?
The questions of life we forever ponder.
Some think they have the answers, while others gaze and wander.
But if you stay strong and stop complaining and whining,
your grey cloud just might reveal its silver lining.

erotic (late 90s)

I could see it in her eyes.
She wanted me to climb between her creamy thighs and exercise my manhood.
Just to think of it makes me rise…
Can you imagine her surprise when she came to realize?
That I was just a little bigger than the average _ _ _ _ _ _.
I figured that she would appreciate the stroke that I demonstrate-
Missionary to back shot, I point my joint to blow the spot, make it hot,
Prolong her shot, it’s a trip to think of how loud and wet she got…
Now here I go, I’m about to close the show.
Her wide-eyed look let me know, that she could feel me grow.
And so, I proceeded to give in to what was needed.
To release my inner build-up.
It had been so long, both sides were filled up.
So, can you imagine our reaction?
Her satisfaction and my ultimate “relaxion”
She started to talk, but from me not a peep.
I had fallen into a deep coma like sleep.
Peace-

Sometimes I Don't Like Being A Rock ('06)

Sometimes I don’t like being a rock
It gets really rough at times
I have to stay calm and collective and put on s positive face
I am a calm, cool, positive person
But, sometimes I just want to break down and let it all out
All of the shit from my childhood to the present;
Life has not been easy
All of the hurt pain disappointment fear embarrassment
Anxiety worry and doubt that comes with being me
I sometimes wish that I could cry
I used to cry…and it would make me feel better
The release was therapeutic
I don’t cry anymore
I can honestly say that I can not recall the last time I cried…
It has been years
I could not even cry at my grandmother’s funeral
I held it in, not that I felt that there was anything wrong with crying at that time,
But it just would not come out
But I digress
Sometimes I don’t like being a rock
But I am the rock in my family
When things go wrong, when shit don’t work, when someone is ill, when money is short,
When bill collectors are calling for loot, when cars break down,
When we don’t have what we feel we should, when my wife is freaking the fuck out over
Any and all of the aforementioned…I am the rock
I am the one who knows that everything will work out (and I do know that)
I bring peace and calm to the storm
On the outside, I am one cool mutha fucka
On the inside, I sometimes feel like I’m going to explode
But I don’t, I just internalize and cope
I used to smoke a lot of herb to “help ease the pressure”
I found that smoking herb in those situations did not always help
I found myself smoking more and more
I could not get high enough
I would usually end up plunging into these depression driven herb binges
That would go on for days…
Or until the sacks were gone…
It was a good thing that no one knew, and I always pulled myself out of the funk
I guess I am lucky to have some kind of self-awareness alarm
The voice inside my head would start talking at the right time:
“Say…mutha fucka, don’t you think you smoked enough for now?
You been gett’in high every day for a week, most times you blow
two or three sweets a day. Get your shit together and deal with
your situations…Nigga you got people depending on you!”
I would go home and look into the eyes of my queen and my seeds and remember that I was a rock
Sometimes I don’t like being a rock
Sometimes it is hard as hell being a rock (pardon the pun)
But, if life were always easy would it be worth it?
And then I think about the alternative…
Fuck that shit, life is hard at times but I love it
In reality, this is what I was built for
This is part of what the old dude in the sky put me here for
I gotta be a rock or shit will fall apart…I will fall apart
Sometimes I don’t like being a rock
But, I am what I am…

let's

let’s climb a tree and tongue kiss on a limb
let’s fly to London for fish n chips on a whim
let’s skinny dip in a public pool
let’s drink a bottle of gin and act a fool
let’s rent a limo and ride across the street
let’s go to the North Pole in search of heat
let’s fish for tuna in the Dead Sea
let’s sit in the sun and sip hot tea
let’s stay home and make love all day
let’s wear our goose down coats in the month of May
let’s lie in the grass and count the stars
let’s build a rocket and fly to Mars
let’s turn off the lights and eat dinner in the dark
let’s roll a few sweets and then spark

can't you see? (late 90s)

the outside is cool
the inside is crying
his is so full of life
in fact he is dieing

copulate (late 90s)

let me stand next to your pussy
i can tell that you keep it neat
one bite and i can smell
you think salt is sugar sweet
you blind me with your juices
i dive deep to tap that well
i try hard to get to know you
but hell is just plain hell
then i add a little heaven
when i make those lips unfold
and the lava flows down the mountain
between the sea and the sky we dwell
like water and oil we mix
it is sometimes quite tasty
come, let's get a fix...

she brought light to the sun and made it dark (late 90s)

i was looking at the sky one day
a bright flash came and all went grey
i was looking at the sky one day

deeply (late 90s)

i shine like a diamond in a piece of coal
i am priceless but most would rather have gold
my potential is still untold
you can't tell me shit until you walk in my skin
though it has not been far, you have not been where i have been

the spanking

Back in the day, I spent a lot of time at my grandmother’s house during the summer. One day the girl next door, who was about my age, and I were playing house. I was the daddy, she was the mommy, and her little brother was our kid. I was acting like I was about to go to work so I was receiving my morning sendoff. She was in the process of giving me a rather large and wet kiss. I could not think of anything to do but put my hand down the front of her pants. I remember it feeling extremely soft down there. It was probably just a few seconds, but it seemed like I had my hand down her pants for hours. The next thing I knew Nana, my grandmother, was standing right over us looking very angry. She never said a word. She just grabbed me by my arm and lead me into the house. Once she got me inside she pulled down my pants and lit my little brown butt up. She only gave me a few lashes but my butt was burning for hours. When I was a kid I got a lot of spankings, but the one that I got that day was one that I will never forget. One reason that I will never forget it is because she used her bare hand but it felt like leather. Another reason that I will never forget it is because that was the only time my grandmother ever spanked me.

untitled/unfinished

You can’t deny it, Supa’s rather fly, it comes quite easy to me
Got the police look’in for me, try’in to make Supa pay they fuck’in fee
That’s right!
You wanna know about Supa? Well he don’t fuck wit the laws
He blows sweets all day, and stand up for the cause
He don’t wear no ice, but he’s as cold as the winter
Wipe the slush off your shoes, now you can enter
Supa rolls one deep most every day
He don’t waste time in the cutt, Supa hit and get on his way

ride and slide

I took a left on MLK and go a splinter in my hand
Then I got sideswiped by this shorty in a two-tone land
She got out cursing, screaming that I was in the wrong
She had on a tight red blouse with no bra on
Her hair was to her shoulders, face like Mya
She was so damn fine she made a playa wanna retire
I was float’in on that fire so I was calm and cool
She came up in my face I said, “Please don’t act a fool.”
“Look shorty, you were wrong, I had the green light.”
She took her earrings off like she was about to fight
“Hold on little mamma, we don’t have to go there.”
“I got some skunk in the trunk, can we go somewhere?”
She soon calmed down and admitted that she was wrong
She invited me to her place to blow and see her thong thathong thong
I was in it for a minute, two hours to be exact
She had (a) good head on her shoulders, Ivy League in fact
When we were done she made me dinner and gave me paper to fix my ride
Before I left she gave me her number and said "Call me when you want to slide!"

my first time

I was in the fifth grade when I first met Sativa. I was hanging out with my older brother at his friend’s house one night. We were just sitting around listening to some music when someone lit her up. She went around the room and landed between my fingers. At first I did not know what to do. I mean I knew that I was supposed to hit it, but I did not know if I should. I was kind of waiting for my brother to take her away from me and send me home. To be honest, I was hoping that he would take her from me. I was scared. I remember thinking, "I should be at home watching wrestling or something. A kid in the fifth grade should not be spending his Friday night smoking a joint." When I looked over at my brother, he was paying no attention to what was going on. His focus was on his girlfriend. I wanted to run out of the apartment and go home. I felt to cry. I don't know why I did it, but I did it. I put Sativa to my lips and took a deep breath…

Peewee

We had this female chihuahua that was given to us by a family friend. Her name was Missy. In the spring of 1985, I was in the sixth grade, Missy got pregnant by a dachshund. I came home from school one day and found them stuck together. She had five puppies. We gave away all of the puppies but one, the runt of the litter. I decided to keep him and name him Peewee, since he was the smallest of the bunch. Peewee turned out to be a great pet. He was my best friend through Junior High and High School. I was kind of sad that I could not take Peewee with me when I went out of the state for college. I asked my mom how Peewee was doing every time we talked. When I came home for Christmas, one of the first things that I did was go into the backyard to see Peewee. I loved Peewee. I changed schools after my freshman year of college, to a school that was thirty minuets away from home. I saw Peewee almost every weekend then. One weekend my girlfriend and I spontaneously decided to drive home. I had a few beers, so she did the driving. As soon as I got there I went to the backyard to see Peewee. I called for him but he did not come running like he always did when he heard my voice. I walked over to his house and it was empty. Peewee was nowhere to be found. I ran inside, “Mom where is Peewee?” “Oh baby, I forgot to tell you that Peewee died.” At first I thought she was kidding. I could not believe what I was hearing. “DIED??? Died of what?” “He got into a fight with a stray dog and got killed,” my mom said. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me about this? You know how I feel about Peewee.” “I’m sorry baby, it happened just last week, I did not want to bother you about it so I just had them take him away.” I was crushed. Between losing my best friend and the two 40s of Ides, I cried like a baby that night. I could not control it. I did not care that my girlfriend was there to witness me balling my eyes out over my dog. As a matter of fact, she consoled me as I cried on her shoulder. I could not get over the fact that I had to find out like this. Why did my mom not call me about this? Had I never expressed to my mom what Peewee had meant to me? Did she even care? After that night, I never spoke about Peewee with my mom again. As a matter of fact, I have not wanted anything to do with another dog after Peewee.

walking home

I think it was summer of 2001, and we had no vehicle at the time. We lived about thirty minuets from the store by foot, so it was nothing to walk to get groceries. It was a Friday and we were almost out of the essentials: milk, bread, fruit, etc. We had ordered pizza for dinner so I told my queen that I would go to the store later that night after things cooled down a bit. I had this sack of dynamite that I could not wait to burn up. After my queen and my seed had gone to bed, I rolled a stick and went for a walk around my apartment complex to burn. That shit was dynamite all right. I got so damn high that I had to sit down in the grass to chill. I put the stick out halfway through because I was better than good and decided to save the rest. About 1:00AM I was still on it when I remembered that I needed to go to the store. I got my backpack and headed out. I remember buying a lot of groceries that night. It might have been because my head was up and I had some money in my pocket. I seem to buy more than I need when I am elevated and I have some paper to spend.
I had crossed PV when I remembered that I had that stick to finish. There I was, 2:45AM walking down Riverside pushing a basket full of groceries puff’in on a fatty. I got a little paranoid when onetime rolled by, but the car kept rolling. I laughed to myself once I realized how shook I got. I remember talking to myself about the situation.
“Check yourself Supa, why would they waste their time on someone pushing a cart of groceries down the sidewalk minding their own damn business at 2:45AM smoking a black?”
“Fool, this ain’t no black!” “You better take another puff and realize.”
“I say black because that’s probably what it look like in the dark to those mutha fuckas. They got you all skeerd and shit! Here I was thinking that you a playa and you act’in like a punk!”
“Naa sun, it ain’t all that. I just can’t afford no shit with them folks. I got warrants and thangs from unpaid speed’in tickets from ’97.”
“Unpaid tickets...unpaid tickets??? It's niggas out hear with work on em and you tripp’in off of that? Give me my mutha fuck’in weed, NNNAAGGGA!!!”
"I got mouths to feed fool! Fuck what you heard, Supa ain't going to jail over shit...as a matter of fact, I bought this sack! Get out and walk, NNNAAGGGA!!!"
"We walk'in already, you must be blowed!!!"
Like I said before, we lived about thirty minuets from the store by foot. I got home after 4 that morning. I don't know why it took me so long. I don’t really remember taking any detours or anything like that. I was just taking my time enjoying the night and the sweet and the conversation. After unloading my goods I left the basket in a ditch behind our unit along with the other carts.
That was a good time to be alive and free.

Beer Kid

Back in the days, late ‘70s to early ‘80s, my mom would sometimes have small gatherings at our home in the summer months. BBQ chicken was always the main course, along with sausage, potato and macaroni salads, beans, and something sweet to eat. On average, there would be anywhere from ten to fifteen people attending these gatherings in our yard. There was always a table for dominoes and sometimes one for spades. My mom would have either BB King or Bobby Bland spinning on the record player. I don’t remember who brought the drink, but there seemed to be an endless supply of gin and grapefruit juice along with Miller High Life.
The brew was always stored in our fridge, and since I was the only kid at these functions, I was the beer runner. At first I hated it when my mom sent me in to get more beer. I remember thinking, “Why can’t they get off of their asses and get their own damn beer?” Even though I disliked being the beer runner, I never told my mom that I did not want to do it. As time went on I started to notice that something was different after the grownups drank a few beers. They would talk and curse louder, slam the dominoes on the table harder, and they became lax in their judgment. I learned how to take advantage of these situations. After a few beer runs, I would ask if they wanted me to open their beer cans for them. Most would be too caught-up in their games or in their spitting of game to really think about what I asked them.
I would open the beers inside and take a few sips off of the top before taking them outside to the grownups. Since they were already feeling buzzed they did not notice the missing beer. And, since I was still a little dude I could only hold one can in each hand. It did not take many trips to the fridge before I was buzzed too. I grew to love it when my mom sent me to get more beer. I loved it so much that I would get really angry when someone would tell me that they did not want me to open their beers for them. In fact I would shake up their beer cans before I came out of the house if they told me not to open them. I found it very amusing to see grown ass people getting sprayed in the face by their own beer. And when my mom asked me what happened to the beer I would reply by shrugging my shoulders and saying, “I don’t know mama, I just took them out of the refrigerator.”

First History Lesson

The children in group one learned that this is their country. Their forefathers made the laws of the land and formed the government. They had all of the money and property. Only they were smart enough and brave enough to be presidents and lead this land. Their faces are on all of our money. History tells them that they built everything.
The children in group two learned that this is not their country. They were captured and brought from their homeland. They were herded on to ships like animals. They were chained together so tight that they had to shit and piss on themselves because they could not move. The sick were thrown overboard for the sharks to eat. When they got here they were sold as slaves and treated worse than some animals. Their families were torn apart. They lost their religion, language, and customs. Everything that they knew when they were in their homeland was wiped from their memory. History tells the children in group two that their forefathers did little to help make this great country. In fact, they are led to believe that over time they became a burden to society.
With everything else being the same in the classroom as far as supplies, treatment from their teacher, etc. Are these children on an equal field? Will the students who have been taught that their forefathers were slaves and burdens to society with no real contribution to this country perform just as well as the students who have been taught that their forefathers were great and all doing?

Chicken and Dumplings

“Which one do you want baby?” I stood there in the middle of the chicken coop with my grandmother. I could not have been more than five at the time. I remember watching Nana collect eggs and feed and water the chickens many times from outside of the coop. This was my first time being inside and I was extremely nervous. “Which one do you want child?” I pointed to the little fat one in the corner, “That one Nana, I want that one over there.” As long as I live I will never forget what happened next. My grandmother grabbed the little fat chicken and we exited the coop. As she held the hen tight around the wings, she placed it on its side on the ground and put her boot on its head. She gave a strong tug to the hen’s body and threw it to the ground about a yard away. The chicken was flapping and jumping very violently. Feathers were flying all around. I had no idea of what just happened. It was not until the hen stopped moving that I saw that its head was gone. I was instantly covered in goose bumps and it was suddenly hard to breath. I looked over at my grandmother as she stood there in all her womanly glory with her hands on her hips. I guess she could see the shock on my face. “What’s wrong baby?” “Nothing Nana,” I replied. Nana walked over and picked up the lifeless body. I slowly walked over to look at the head that was pressed into the dirt by the weight of her boot. I could not believe that this thing was living just a few minuets ago. “Come on baby, let’s get this thing cleaned up.” We went inside and she began to run hot water over the feathers. “What is the water for Nana?” “The hot water makes it easy to pull the feathers off,” Nana said. After all of the feathers were gone, I watched her slice the chicken open and remove all of the smelly, slimy parts. She then went on to cut it into peices. About an hour later, we were sitting down to the best chicken and dumplings that I have ever had.

musings

P-Funk
does anyone know that they were really talking about when they said, "Things you blow through because of things you swim through."

My Brain
am i really as crazy as i think i am?

Jimmy
sometimes i feel like Jimmy was talking about me when he said, "I know what I want but I just don't know."

Pussy
if pussy went by any other name would it still feel just as good?

Ice Cube
"A bird in the hand is worth more than a Bush."
when he put this in his rhyme he was referring to the 1st pres. Bush; however, one wonders if it is more applicable to the 2nd pres. Bush

Olfactory
is it a coincidence that some women's fragrances remind me of pussy? for example, an attractive woman walks by me in the grocery store and i smell her perfume. depending on what it smells like, i have to follow the smell and find out what she looks like because it makes me think of pussy

Obama
is America, and the rest of the world for that matter, ready for a black president? Will he be criticized more frequently and severely because he is black? Will he even make it through a term before some hater tries to kill him because he is black?

weeding

the other day i was home with my seed. he was occupied by his ds, so i excused myself to the backyard for a visit with Sativa. she was wonderful as always. it was a nice cool slightly overcast light wind kind of day. i did not want to waste that nice weather by going inside, the next thing you know i was on my knees pulling weeds out of my flowerbed. it was so peaceful. i had the best time. i have heard that spending time with your hands in the dirt was therapeutic, but when Sativa is in the mix...

do you remember?

the first time you felt love
the first time you felt pain
the first time you lost
the first time you stood in the rain
the first time you came
the first time someone you loved went away
the first time you got high
the first time you felt to cry
the first time you tasted victory
the first time you faced your enemy
the first time you got sick
the first time someone told you "i love you"

THERE IS NO GOING BACK! (late 90's)

Do you miss that warm, dark, peaceful place?
There was no trouble, no worries, no demands.
There was just peace.
Do you wish that you could go back and start over?
Could that be why most men love pussy so?
Are we all trying to get back to that place?

Red from Greens

It’s green and it makes me red!!!
Not red as in mad red.
I'm far from being pissed.
Red as in red eye red.
Like green lips being kissed...

spring

Sunny day in the park
Lets spark the bark
Herb started to burn
Sky began to turn
Rain put my fire out

???

Have you ever seen a black boy in desperate need of a black man
to show him how to be a black man; and there is no black man around?

untitled (late 1990's)

Sometimes I wish I were a bird
So I could fly high and yell, scream, laugh, cry
Get closer to the heavens and ask why
Why is it so damn hard to get ahead
I need them now, why are all my people dead
If I smoke enough weed will the pain go away
Or will it be there when I come down…anyway
This life is a bitch, but I don’t want to die yet
I have mountains to climb, I have to burry my fret
Just like Miles, I feel kind of blue
I write in red, is that ironic to you?

Mango

I met this bad chick a few months ago
I was at a concert in the park and the shit was soso
I was about ready to leave
I felt a tug on my sleeve
I turned around and the beauty I could not believe
My eyes were hypnotized
I was almost paralyzed
Big breasts, slim waist, and some thick ass thighs
Her lips were full like the ocean
Perfume smelled like magic potion
She had a twinkle in her eyes like she had the notion
I said, “Hello, they call me Supa…”
She said, “Yea, you used to be a hoopa
I used to love some number 40
I wanted to be your shorty
But you were with some other girl
I could have brought joy to your world”
I was taken by surprise as I looked in to her chingy eyes
She had me wide open
You know that I was hope’ in
That she was still down
She said, “I don’t live far from downtown!”
Once again it was on
My joint was rock bone!
Did I mention her name yo?
She went by Mango
She lived south of downtown in a flat off of SoCo
Her hair was curly jet black
She had a big ass tatt just above her crack
It read “DON’T TRY TO HIT IT IF YOUR SWING IS WACK!”
She stood about five-ten
She loved sweets and Henn
And when she got full she asked “You ready to win?”
About five minutes in she yelled “Supa…filet me like a bass!”
I got on my grind and I shellacked that ass
She kept on comm'in until the sky became sunny
I dubed her my brown energizer bunny
I still can't get over how she got so damm wet
I never saw here again, but this you can bet
I will always remember
Eating Mango's in September

aka Mr.Deep Poke-Its

For all you ladies looking for Mr. SupaDupa aka Mr. Deep Poke-Its...
You might find me in the hood, rollin up some good
grippin on the wood, crome shorty on the hood
candy drippin like coffee, gotta shake them haters off me
every time I hit the block them soft legs askin what it cost me
but I just turn up the thump, make them street lights jump
sippin on the Michelob like Money-B and Humpty Hump
my ass is on that crocodile, i got that Kool-Aid smile
i'm passin by them boppers and they hollin "OOOOHHHH CHILD"
I'm feelin like Apolo Ono cause I'm skatin on them J's
23's and red haze got my mind in a daze.

James

i never really knew James. all my life i heard about how much of an asshole he was. the stories were always about him being drunk and trying to fuck someone up. it seems like my mom was on the receiving end of most of his beat downs. i will never forget the story of x-mas eve. he came home drunk off his ass demanding his dinner. at the time my mom was up on a chair decorating the tree. she told him that the food was on the stove and she would get it for him as soon as she was done with the tree; wrong answer. he smacked the shit out of her, knocking her off of the chair and on to the floor. according to my brothers, that was common. there is even a story about him trying to shoot one of my brothers. one day, while beating my mom's ass, James was interrupted by my brother trying to stop the beat down. that nigga pulled out a gun and tried to shoot his own son. if it had not been for that car in the driveway i would only have two living brothers today. to the best of my recollection, he was drunk every time i saw him. his eyes were always wild and bloodshot. i can remember thinking to myself "i'm glad that he is not my father." "my father would never beat my mom."
i did not know him very well, but i knew that my father was Clarence. he drank gin on ice like it was water. to the best of my recollection, he was drunk every time i saw him too. but, he seemed like a good person. he was a hard working truck driver. his face seemed to light-up when he saw my mother. he was always happy to see my brothers and me. he usually gave me money and gifts when my mother took me around the beer joints to see him. however i always wondered why my father did not come around much. i knew that he lived about twenty miles away, "so why didn't he come and see his son?" "is there something wrong with me, or is it my mom?" i remember feeling sad that my father did not want much to do with me. i loved him. i loved him for the simple fact that my mother said that he was my father. i would ask myself "why don't he love me back?" "why don't he ever come and take me to stay at his house for the weekend?" "why don't he ever send cards on my birthday?" "what did my mom do to make him stay away from me?" i was twenty-five and a new father of a beautiful baby boy before i found out the truth. Clarence came to visit me and my wife shortly after my son was born. i started a conversation about being a father and he dropped a bomb. Clarence said that i was at least a year old when he met my mom. he was not my father after all. he was just one of the many men from my mom's past. she thought it would be good for me to grow-up thinking that Clarence was my father instead of James. she never got around to telling me the truth. James is my father, I am his son.
I took my wife and son to see him a few months after my shocking revelation. He was living in a nursing home a few hours drive away from where we lived. It was one of the most disappointing days of my life. James was in a wheelchair, unable to walk due to a history of strokes and other ailments brought on by years of alcohol abuse. But, that was not the disappointing part, he had lost the ability to speak. In fact he had to be fed through a tube. All he could do was look at me with those wild, permanently bloodshot eyes. When I introduced him to my infant son he looked as if he wanted to say something. I got a pencil and a piece of paper and asked him to write what it was that he was trying to say. Unfortunately he had lost the ability to use his hands to write.
I was crushed. I thought that I was finally going to get some insight. I had a million questions to ask and none could be answered. Sometimes life really is fucked up.
I did not bother hurt myself anymore. The hole in my heart that had been there all of my life was left permanently agape. I felt like crying. I felt like I did so many times as a child when I would sit and wonder why my father did not want me. I caught myself feeling sorry for myself, then I looked into my infant son’s smiling eyes. At that moment I knew that I would never get any answers to the burning questions that I had been carrying around like a plague. I had to move on and be a father to my son.
I left James that day, never to see him again. About four years later my mother called me one day and told me that my father had died. I wish that I could say that I felt some kind of remorse. I felt nothing. It was as if she had told me that a stranger had died. In actuality that is what he was to me, a stranger.