Baby Boy


He looked like an Angel albeit a broken Angel splayed out on the cold marble floor. His head at angles with his twisted body along with his staring unseeing eyes extinguished any hope that the embers of life still burned within him.  The earth came up to meet him and swallowed him into the heavens.  The Benjamins make a poor parachute.

Cupid shot by his own Arrow.
Cupid shot by his own Arrow.

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Baby Boy

Baby Boy Got $200 sneakers as a reward for cussing the teachers and failing in school. Teacher or principals fault. Grades all F but it ain’t me you fucked up can’t you see! School’s for Fools. Some place I don’t want to be.

Baby Boy he never wrong. They got it all mixed up seeing me strong. Y’all know I’m the King of my crew. God’s Gift to everything.

But in the back of your head all you can see is yo’ no count Daddy, welfare system and crackhead Momma staring back in the mirror saying you gonna be like me.

Hanging out in the upper class nabe with my hoodrat crew. See a few things I wanna take. Wait a minute! What’s that I hear! A siren in back of me. Starting to fear. Next thing I’m on Lock down in Juvie Hall. Where my crew at now when as I’m taking this fall.

Baby boy lying in a ditch. Worse off than being a Snitch. Off to Rikers’ to be somebody’s Bitch. Baby Boy. You Done. You Done.

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His rhymes had got him to the big time. Opened new doors of upper class vice and sin. The immoralities of the 1%. I gazed at my son from the balcony of one of the greatest art institutions in the city seeing not the young man who had entered the 27 Club of the Immortals but every little boy running up and down Linden Blvd., Jamaica Avenue, Fulton Street or Sedgwick Avenue running to be the next 50 cent or Jay-Z finding fame and winding up on 27 Jump Street misjudging the doubles lives one foot in the hood and the other on Central Park West or the Upper East Side seeking Hipster fame and validation.

Jump my Son/Sun. Jump out of your dreams and into Eternity.

I’m Gonna Keep Sitting on it Scrubs


Storm
Storm — Power over the Elements

I live in Bodega-Land, Brooklyn. Exchange at the Bodega across from the Laundromat. I’m wearing an old Ecko Red short sleeve shirt and some skinny jeans. I’m waiting for my Beef Patty with cheese and coco bread. While I’m paying for my food and drink I get the following rap from Snagglepuss. “Ya keep ya body nice. Can I get your number and can I give you mine.” I’m polite and keep that smile on my face knowing I’m about to reject this fool because I don’t want any confrontation before I get to eat my food or check my clothes washing across the street.

He notices that I speak proper English and says; I see that you’re an intellectual. Hmmm I’m thinking just because I live in the Ghetto doesn’t mean I must lapse into Ghettoese or Ebonics. Crooked teeth continues, maybe you and me can get together and discuss spirituality, blah, blah, blah, bullshit. You know the way that Rasta Negro was eyeing me up and down his mind wasn’t on the things of God or any type of Spiritual talk. Leon Spinks just wanted to find a way to get some “Coochie”. I lied and told him I had a boyfriend. I just wanted to get away from his sorry ass, finish my food and get my laundry done. Mission Accomplished.

However in the words of the immortal Ruth Brown, “I’ll Just Keep Sitting on it. I ain’t giving it away.” Rochdale Village had its share of old coots prowling for “Coochie” I see Brownsville/Bed Stuy has it’s own share of horny fools with really lame game.
http://youtu.be/KPll4sQDssU

 

Talk to the Hand cause the Face ain't Listening.
Talk to the Hand cause the Face ain’t Listening.

Ladies, always remember Men are like the City Bus there’s another one coming in 20 minutes hopefully with good teeth, fresh breath, who bathes and uses deodorant.

Honey if you’re game is lame and your rap is weak don’t even think of stepping to me. No romance without finance. And no I don’t do Ugly, fat or Stupid. I may be broke but I’m never desperate. I’d work 40 hours of overtime before I hook up with your no job, no car, no talking sorry hoodrat/thug/bad boy ass. Been there. Done That. Paid the Price.

http://youtu.be/pKV8uSX2nEQ

TLC -- No Scrubs
TLC — No Scrubs

Ladies you gotta let these men know what’s up. They telling you they can do acrobatics with their dick! Really! Are they fucking double jointed or contortionists? Give me a fucking break. Please! Why is their dick so much more special than any other. Is it extra long? Does it swing from side to side. WTF! Then they a fucking freak and belong in Ripleys Believe it or Not. Or maybe they should be making porno films. I’m older and wiser now. Dick don’t mesmerize me anymore. Get something in your head or you’ll never get me in bed. My body is my temple and only my true King who I choose can enter in. Don’t get it twisted. Little boy your package does not impress me.  In the meantime Losers give your Ding-A-Ling a hand job.

My Ding-A-Ling

 

Ladies if you’ve had the best don’t settle for less.

Get up off your broke ass, fix your face , see a dentist and fix your teeth, and get an education and a decent job. If you can’t come correct don’t come at all.

Hello Summer in the City!

 

Talk to the hand cause the face ain't listening.
Talk to the hand cause the face ain’t listening.