ONCE
She’s chocolate brown with grey sprinkled locks. Smokes a ton of weed like she’s hanging with Snoop. My cage smells like a Cheech and Chong movie. My 16 year catching that 2nd hand high. She’ll probably sleep better.
She likes to chat. Full court press plans about becoming a weed Queen specializing in baked goods. She got good ideas and even better smoke.
Nights getting late. We both yelled out yawns. We plop into the black knight for the ride to her roost. After we bid our farewells she slowly dances to the steps. I got the infamous ass shot. That plucked booty tucked into a size 5 jeans. That ass floating down the boulevard gliding through the hoop like a George Gervin finger roll. That ass looking like two cantaloupes ready to do a prison break out jeans.
Guess what, she can’t find her keys. So that ass starts posting up like it's doing an Instagram shoot. One cheek dancing on the other gave me the side eye. As she shuffles through her bag that ass gives me a full frontal pose. Then that ass does a little shimmy as the keys climb out the bag. Finally that ass booty claps into oblivion as it ascends graciously to the heavens. My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of our Lord.
Dear White People
First of all I want to thank you for your service. Particularly in this time of grief where everything in your world is on the precipice of failure. For the past 500 years you have been the epitome of success. Where would we be without manifest destiny the White race God given mandate to create order in this human cesspool. Sailing your glorious ships across the 7 seas spreading commerce and Christianity. All that precious loot buried beneath the continents you kidnap created the grandest cities to ever bless the planet. London, Paris and New York. Your fine institutions of higher learning, the prestigious hospitals, the ever expanding arsenals of military largesse and how can one forget the grand glorious list of first. From eradicating polio to Google. By God whitey has gone to the moon.
Yes sir the world needed you. The policeman of the world, the last bastion of freedom standing steadfast at the wall, protecting us from those dusty brown skin folks at the border. And rightfully so you had to stomp on some nigga necks every now and then. George Floyd shouldn’t have been passing out that looney toons loot. Yep I get it
Your righteousness indignation of these ungrateful cock kissers has not fallen upon death ears. Now is a good time to opt out. South Dakota here you come. A world with more horses than people. Open air land and most of all no niggas. I get it u sick of niggas. Crying bitching and complaining out every god damn thing. Marching the tar off the streets. Lumicating our fine 5th avenue with Black Lives Matter monologues. If u knew niggas were gonna be so much trouble why hell yeah u would picked your own cotton.
South Dakota my friend. Just imagine camping under the open skies beneath the 4 Gods of Rushmore sheltering the whiteness of the universe. Aunt Jemima pancakes and Ice Cube tap dancing to fuck the police. Leave it to Beaver marathons sprinkled with a dose of Friends. Golf back in the day when the Captains of industry like Standard Oil and US steel did planet running shit. Like blowing up a country and kidnapping their oil. I get it everybody doesn't deserve a Goddamn trophy. Life ain’t fucking fair.
That’s why it’s time for you to opt the fuck out. Personally and I really hate to say this. I’m kinda sick of your ass too. Sick of the hypocrisy. Richest country on the planet without universal health care. The black lives you continue not to give a fuck about. Don’t worry bout it bro. Let China run this shit. Meanwhile you’ll be chilling like a villain. White horse cowboy rolling up on some buffalo. Just do me a favor. Take Candace Owens with you.
Being Kwesi@MomandPops.com
I have become my mother, I drop knowledge nuggets on neandertal noggins like Socrates, Blues popping ankle breaking nappy locks. Marley wailing from guitar guts.
I have become my father. A gibraltar gladiator with rock strong balls. I eat dumbells for breakfast and terrorize libraries I arrange atoms into an array of asteroids anchoring amongst atmosphere My minds a fanatic ferment of ales brews bebopping cross time.
I HAVE BECOME SOUL silent sweet like a psalm magic mystery midnight I have become Harmony.
Seasons for Bobbie Bell
We’ve come to know seasons
Gentle winds soft breeze
Laughter leaping into smiles
Our toils never ending,
The wise among us
Sense the quivering of rain
the dimming of light
the last breath of moon
It is time to call the Prophets
Priest, Preachers and Poets
Death has awaken
Again
The age among us
Speak of time
Like memoirs filled with bones
Who forgot their masters
And break into bedlam
Today the good man
Sleeps quietly knowing
His soul rest
In the bosom of God.
Code Black
Code Black (alias Shirley Stout)
The Books of Light and Love
She is a daughter of Sagittarius. A mystery child who in this incarnation calls me Daddy. We have shared many lives together as friend, confidant and my prized but stubborn pupil at Thebes. She came to me by way of a beautiful Gambian woman, who appeared in a dream by a river near Basse. I impregnated a Ghost. She talks to me about stars, dreams, spirits, art, music, poetry, life, death, dying, marriage, love, war and peace. My world smiles. It has been a long time since my soul has spoken to me.
Nocturnal
A quick pm nap turned into a nocturnal sabbatical. 16 hours babysitting at the detox center coming up. Got to snatch the punk money if it’s stress free and legal. Decided to check the news when her name pops up. As a rule I ignore her. Empathy has been wrecking my world recently. Sure enough empathy answers the phone.
She wants to come over and chill. Usually someone with their own car, popping up after midnight knowing I’m gigging in the morning is the crème de la crème of booty calls. Unfortunately she ain’t the usual chic.
90 year old mofos have gps. She the only one in country that don’t. My spot is about 10 minutes off 91. She wants to meet me at exit 45 in Connecticut. Well that’s a 15 minute drive and I need her to make more of an effort tonight. I get her to agree to exit 3 a couple of miles from the Mass/Connecticut border. She stays on the phone the 15 minutes it takes to find her. Several mishaps occur. Now I remember there are two Sunoco’s near exit 3. I went to the wrong one. She’s piss when we finally link. After arriving at my spot she rediscovers I live on the top floor. She climbs 4 flights while mumbling profusely about her pussy was wet before my silly retarded ass left her on 91. She been drinking. My first impulse is march her ass down stairs. Then I get a chilling premonition about a 18 wheeler smashing her ass into two million pieces. I realize where this night is heading.
Its recall our life night. She knows all the details too. Her main one the time I snuck that bitch in her apartment back in 1985. Or how her ass appeared in my last book as some downtrodden, hopeless dope fiend. And the Black woman favorite concerning me. “You think you better than people. As usual, I can’t comment on her insecurities. Not that I want to. I’m the psych nurse here. Got to question my personal crazy. Why do I keep attracting insecure sisters with lunatic stamped on their backs?
Remembering my propensity for clean looks, she asks if how well the pharmacy is stocked preferably with klonopin. I politely tell her I found the equivalent of Jesus and abstain except for an occasional freak party. I got some ginger wine. She asks for a lighter. I got matches hmm. If she asking for a torch. I know what comes next. Open flame equals crack. She insists no spiels tonight while reminding me she’s not one of my patients.
I decide not to lecture her. Gearing up for work is a good look for me. My thoughts forward themselves to her current issues. Mom caught a stroke, cancer woke her up last week and a teenage son who lost his mind. Doesn’t justify her actions, but we all got demons to be dealt with.
I manage to scrape up a meal for her. A fresh pot of rice and peas along with chicken burgers and broccoli. Her ass got lucky. I don’t do food. Within five minutes of the movie starting she sleeping. The alcohol did it. Against my better judgement I leave her in the cave. She’s left my place as she found it. Spacious and neat. She remembers I can’t stand clutter.
I am not chasing God or looking for Tasmanians in the details. I know why she came. A familiar face, a good meal, some kind words and not to be judged. Life is enough of a bitch already.
Blacks Vs Niggers the Uncivil War by Taleeb Starkes
Just finish reading this been on the books to be read list for nearly a year. In terms of analysis and critique this brother is on point. A honest appraisal of our situation in America today. Required reading. First book I read entirely on my big ass phone.
Future WNBA Star
her first slam dunk
Lunch at Fire and Spice Restaurant
Had lunch at Fire and Spice with two of the chillest, beautiful brothers on planet Earth Olusanya Bey and Maurice D. Robertson. Part of my goals to support local business in the community particularly businesses own by people of color. Trying to do twice a month lunch treat. If u on my friend list I am going to be calling u.
SuperGirl (The Books of Light and Love)
SuperGirl (From the books of Light and Love)
She practices isolation. An all encompassing world of books, letters and soul searching. Her life a weaving of magic and mystery. She found the mystic Kareem dropping wisdom like sky hooks. Amiri Baraka is having a mic battle with Kanye. Drake spitting some dope ass lyrics while Coltrane blows in the foreground. Goddess Isis forged a gold afro pic for Angela. I lit candles for the elders who sleep with the ancestors.
She snatched her chariot and sailed into the stars. I watched her rise into the night and a tear came to my eye. My baby girl is just like me.
#Candace Stout
SILENCE
The world wasn't ready for her.
Her kindness honor sense of duty
Always trying to fill up spaces
With lots of love n hope
World not ready for strong black women
We hush them up
Strangle them, label them
ANGRY
Till silence becomes the strength of cowards
Afrofuturism
Fascinating work. Explores an abundance of ideas.
Future Land by Walter Mosley
Walter Mosbley Futureland. Had this on my Kindle readling list for a few years back and finally read it. Interesting take on Race, Religion, Power and intelligence. Set 100 years in the Future. Back on my one book a week kick. Reading is Fundamental. Turn on the television of your mind and turn off the tell lie vision.
Summer highlight Faith Festival on September Springfield Mass
Thorougly enjoyed the festival. Some insight in terms of what African People did with Christianity. I heard the call and response, catching the spirit, praise and prayer, the calling of elders and ancestors for guidance, healing and guidance. Wish you were there.
Summer 2016 highlight BRIC Reggae festival in Brooklyn
BRIC Reggae festival Prospect Park Brooklyn
A summer high light Springfield Jazz and Roots festival
caught the Blues man Taj Mahal at the Jazz and Roots festival
1st Barrel
Packing my first barrel for my new business importing toiletries, clothing, medicines, batteries, flashlights and assorted dollar store items to West Africa. Could not help thinking that's how we got here stuffed on ships, complete with a cargo statement. Cargo owners had to worry about tariffs, damage goods, product arrival, lost or damage cargo. Gotta stuff as much product in this barrel. That's how we got here. We didn't come here on the Mayflower
In the Garden
One of the things I am most proud of is my ability to grow food. I can even grow from seed particularly corn. I am also extremely happy to be part of this community garden Holy Name Forest park community Gardens. A community of Muslims, Christians, Africans from Sudan, White Americans, Immigrants from Asia. More African Americans and Latino brothers and sisters need to get into farming. I give the President of Gambia Jammeh credit when he stated if u can't find a job go farm. My skills have gotten. So good I can feed a family of four 100.by 100 piece of land.
What are the duties of a revolutionary? The duties of a revolutionary is to make revolution - Fidel Castro