Chasing the Sun part 1

Sitting talking about relationships
Good ones bad ones
Shaky ones done ones
She stood out caramel
Short cropped hair and chocolate lips.
I escorted her home in the rain
We stopped stared, lips touched soaked.
It was the beginning of sunlight.

Thug Life Robbery Dreams

He see his shadow while he's walking
It's like it's stalking him
like the spirit of death hovering
over him like a drone

He got on the phone call is boy Roane
got the Ruger 22 ready to roam
Invasion of thoughts brought them into
a home thought the drug dealer was alone

They ran into the room and heard a boom
through the door
he thought he only wanted to scare him but
heard the body hit the floor

Left the house empty handed and left the scene
as the tires screamed.
Video camera caught him leaving the scene.

18 years old charged with third degree murder all due to
Thug Life Robbery Dreams.

#TrueStory

Flash Back

Flash Back to

1993

Police on the Scene

Actions go out like a laser beam

Stun gun shocks black man

Black Jacks cracks him as he raises his hand

81 hits in 56 seconds

1993 Riot should have taught them a lesson

Flash Back

Reginald Denny

Kicked and beaten

City anger heating

Police spectating

Fire men waiting

As the city burns

Flash Back

Donte Dawson sits in his car

Surrounded by police

As he appears to be sleep

A cop finger just squeeze (the trigger)

Bullets blaze through the summer breeze

Tearing through his chest

Laying another brother to rest

Flash Black

2009 Oscar Grant slain on a Oakland platform

as the new year came in

a cop couldn’t tell the difference if he held a taser or a gun

As Oscar laid face down

Not resisting or about to run

As a bullet ricochet through his body

Ridding his body of its oxygen

Leaving us to Riot once again

But not for the last time

As we become victims of a timeless crime

While cops see no time

Having us to Flash Back

Once again

And Riot !!!

Just Write

Write a story
A vision
A poem
Write a visionary poem
A poem that plays
In minds like a movie
A feature presentation
Write your story
Your pain
Your victories
Write about painful victories
That helped you over come
Your under performances
That you wish you could do over
Write your beginning
How it all began
Write your ending before it all ends
Without leaving out the middle
Where all the good stuff lives

Just Write

Requiem for Ye. The absent of thought

Talking about Freedom When Freedom wasn’t Free

Didn’t look like me, didn’t look like me

Slavery is a choice?

What the hell Kanye?

Free thinkers propelled us to greatness out of slavery, out of civil rights

We fought, died, we hung from trees, and were killed in the streets.

Do away with the 13^th Amendment?

Will that set us free?

Would it have saved the Freedom riders who were slain in Mississippi?

Would it have saved the assassination of Malcolm, Martin, or Fred Hampton?

We are still suffering from the history of convict leasing in the south today.

Are you aware of our history, due you know our misery Kanye?

This is not a reality show!

We don’t know if you are stuck in a sunken place but we understand that you are

Void of today’s reality.

You seem to be stuck in a vortex of creating infinite relevancy

You do not have the influence of a Walt Disney, Andy Warhol, or a John Lennon

You are a fortunate human being who have the ability to influence yet your choice is

To give us versions of delusional thoughts.

Believing a Maga hat would set you free and you are now the Harriet Tubman of the

21 Century, year of the new slave.

Thoughts can create enslavement if you are not grounded in reality. Some call you a genius others

Call you crazy but what most import is how you identify yourself.

Which are you?

Amongst the stars your light is dimming and you feel it like your arc reactor is dying

So you grab onto stars that are brighter in hopes of a sparking your reactor but you know it’s not working

Kanye.

Your spirit is evaporating like steam rising into the atmosphere, soon we will not see you.

You’re dying Kanye trying to hang on to any ember of light.

It all happened here (dedicated to Kalief Browder)

I was young, never thought life could get so complicated but it was

Bronx born, I was still compel to chase butterflies if the moment struck me.

But it all happen here

They accused me, said that I, 16 years old committed some robbery,

I did not commit no damn robbery!

But it all happened here

Down in central booking I was scared and confused but tried to hide it.

They put me in jail! My parents could not afford to get me out!

But if they could. No bail!

But it all happen here

In a cell with others that looked like me but one happen to see me

He said nigga who you looking at? Want some beef!

Scared, confused, I did not answer just looked away!

But it all happened here

Noticing my age they place me in a cell alone

No charges, no bail, but in jail at 16

But it all happen here

I began hearing whispers counting the hours teasing me

Hey do you know what day today is? (laughter)

It’s your birthday (laughter)

But it all happen here

Monsters came into my cell to inflict pain on me

Pull on me, beat me, I ain’t supposed to be here I yelled!

I ain’t supposed to be here!

But it all happened here

Dim lights darkness, no appetite, they say a pill will help

But I still here the voices, they’re going to hurt me!

Can’t go to the yard without fighting monsters in the daylight (Swing)

But it all happened here.

Needing to escape, I try to teleport myself through the walls because the voices say I can

The voices are getting louder, so I pop one pill, then another, see the doctor, and another pill

This all can’t be real, I am going to leave through teleportation. All I need is this bed and a sheet.

The voices are still there

But it all happened here.

Three years and they let me out, yeah they let me out. They knew I was innocent but the voices are here

I thought I left them in that dark cell, Shut up! I am not listening to you shut up!

They’re quiet now.

But it all happened here

My story gets out, I am a local celebrity, Jay Z came to see me, believe that? Believe that son!

That lady Rosie Odonnell gave me a computer for school, so I can go to college

I love college but there is so many people in class and in my head is saying “they are going to hurt you”

But it all happened here

I said, I am not at Rikers, This isn’t Rikers, No bars no guards

They say they’re here so I left

My family says they love me, they love me, why didn’t they come get me?

Why did they not save me! Why!

I’m fighting monsters, they’re coming through the door, more and more and more, they are shocking me! (aHHHHHHHHH!)

Why did no one save me?

Today my mom is frying fish, I can’t wait to eat. I am hungry the monsters are here today but I am not listening.

I want some fish, they are knocking on the door, it’s getting louder, and I am not letting them in.

I have to get out of this room, I’ll go to the next room and hide, they’re are still trying to get in!

I know I will have to teleport one last time, I need to teleport last time

No more monsters, No more monsters

But it all happened here

In America

Khalief Browder

committed suicide after being incarcerated at Rikers Island with no charges for more than 3 years. He was abused by the officers and the inmates so much that he developed a severe case of paranoia. Despite his release it was hard for him to adjust to life and fight his demons. His story is memorialize in the New Yorker written by Jennifer Gonnerman. This poem is dedicated to all of those who are abused in correctional institutions.

For The Stolen Ones (Dedicated to Mike Brown)

I've never experienced the lynchings in Mississippi or Alabama

60 years removed from today yet more relevant than ever

I don't have to be that clever to realize that the hands of time

are creatively being pushed back to the times of despair for the darker ones

Our children are being stolen from us, their lives extinguished as if they are being teleported to another realm

As we weep over our children deaths, under tragic conditions that we are witnessing live!

Is it only I who notice that Southern Whites are lynching us with ammunition?

No ropes, No trees, just police officers bullets cutting through the Southern breeze

Strange fruit lying on urban streets

Their life force extinguished like leaves falling to the earth from a dying tree

Despite it all

We fight, unite, yell, scream, cry, ask God why

Protest, unrest, cursing, hearts bursting

Shoot me too, I am ready to die!

At least I will decide under what condition

No longer allowing the hands of policemen to casually suck the air out of my environment

We are here to save our children from the goblins who

use to come for them at night but now

extinguish their souls in broad daylight

For the stolen ones we are here ready to fight

For you.