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...
Friday, February 8, 2008
spring
Sunny day in the park
Lets spark the bark
Herb started to burn
Sky began to turn
Rain put my fire out
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?
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?
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?
Friday, February 1, 2008
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
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.
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.
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.
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