My First Love

The impulses race through my body like a high of a heroin addict.

It shoots off to heights that makes me a semi-automatic.

My eyes are the only light that shines deep into my soul.

I’m falling, falling, faster than Niagara Falls in the cold.

Left as a captive to my movement, I’m spun like yarn.

The bass rattles my chest and lures me just like a chess pawn

Percussion grabs me by the back; Strings pull me by the ears,

Into a trance my feet do this dance; the product of a puppeteer.

Convulsions erupt throughout my body as I suspend.

My back begins to bend as I descend to no end.

My hips contracts and release as I ascend

And my heart rate elevates with each scratch of the record spin

Pushed into full throttle, my body has become the arson

It burst my pours open with streams of water free fallin

Packed tight my body press against two to three others,

A time bomb tickin close to blastin muthafuckas

Whatever is known don’t have to be said, but instead

The code red is universally said,

All eyes are on me because I changed up the beat,

We went front two steppin to ticking, now I’m role playing

I gotta use a decoy and make sure the timing is right

If I do this tonight I gotta do this thing right,

I scout the crowd everyone is fair play.

Whether they know it or not, everyone is on display.

In the center like a showcase I’m the prime delicacy.

Everyone circles around the DJ versus me

Clothes are a distraction, entrapment, and deception,

I’m gonna take them off, how is the question.

I gotta unveil it, un-wrapping it first from its bow,

Then releasing it from the gift wrap, my legs begin the show.

Once the top comes off, I won’t be able to keep it in the box

I will give a one of a kind performance, once the beat drops.

Signature is the key it’s authentically you,

You gotta have originality that makes you you

Is it special? Is it unique? Is it somewhat sublime?

Mine you can’t see it, instead I’ll lead you like the blind

When I hit you with it though, you’re gonna be knocked out cold

It'll be a 1, 2, 3 TKO

My conscious sets in and then the delayed reaction,

Before I reach for my clothes I become timid, shy- that nervous reaction

It’s funny how it likes to sneak up on me.

My first love has always been the dancer in me.

Exposed

Inspired by "Skin" by Rihanna

I sat in a chair like this, with my arms in my lap, and my head hanging low, I refuse to look up.

He kneels before me resting his elbows on my knees, then the fingertips of his hand move towards my clothes

Blank stares exchanged in disbelief; our eyes are glazed, time stopped in full intensity and now the pain.

It’s hard to believe that, in denial I will be, powered by the abundance of shame.

I got up from the chair, I gotta go, I need air, I need to escape from here, anywhere, but here

Damn!

I moved to fast, I’m light-headed I regret it now I’m descending and overwhelmed by emotions, tears, and my fears.

Caught, in an instant I thought, I’d hit the ground, my body laying prostrate I envisioned,

DAMN!

With tear filled eyes through a whisper I cried “I can’t believe this is happening to me!”

Water falling from the pockets, darken my eyes like closets, there is nothing you can do, so please don’t try to stop it.

I’m forever vulnerable, unable to be secured, when time starts up again, the dying will then begin.

“Its gonna be okay, baby. We’re gonna get through this, Don’t worry I’m in your corner, you gotta fight it, baby.”

I didn’t wanna hear that shit, or anything close to it, damn; I even turned away his kiss.

One night while I’m lying in the bed, pressure rushes to my neck, fire runs down my back, I open my eyes and scream through my mouth but nothing is seen and nothing came out.

I don’t know what is happening to me, I took the damn medicine, I just wanna sleep.

My body is soaked from all of the sweat, and the worst thing about it, it wasn’t through yet.

I lay on my side for a while, tryna past time; letting the side effects die down,

I’m praying that someone would come and save me from this pain; I forgot I’m the only one that I can really blame.

All those nights, unprotected, pressed my luck, I’m infected, wish I had the chance to start over again, change the situations that I had been in.

I have to be honest there is no escape, and knowing it…my heart aches.

I’m left with my consciousness forever; its one, three, five years all together.

I have to decide should I live do I die, does it lie in the hands of the most high.

Contemplating my mind overwhelmed- these questions…Here. It. Comes. Again. Inflictions.

Pain. Rise. I dive head first into the pillow. My knees curl up I’m in fetal.

Lethal inside if you look in my eyes; these tears that I cry won’t ever subside.

Alive. Breathing. Descending off the side effects sends my mind to ease and rest.

I’m spinning…

Okay…

“Aye baby? You’re alright? Do you need a glass of water, a towel, some cover?” “Man, you’re sweating all over.” 
All these questions he kept askin, and no answers I can give him,
made him wonder if I’m breathing, “nod your head if you can hear me”.

As the tears filled his eyes, I finally cracked a smile,
“I..I heard you loud and clear, so don’t worry I’m still here.” 
“I…I thought that you…” “baby your tears are falling…” 
“it don’t matter anyway, so you just keep on talking.”

“I don’t know if I can do this, the pain, the shame and doubt, scaring inside and out, all the signs to just tap out. 
I mean...how do I begin to figure out… my life.. and time cannot go back….and now I’m holding on….my meds….I think I miss….one sec.”

“I think I miss the chance to…” “baby slow down you are talking fast, I’m tryna make some sense….” “what I am saying is…” “you’re talking fast.” “I don’t know if I can do this, Why I gotta go through all this, I just want it over with; I can’t keep going on like this.”

The pain in my eyes, from all the years of the lies
no regrets of me choosing to play, and not stay in the house one day. 
Consequences are many, and the one time was plenty,
now I’m living with regret and a lifetime of knowing it.

Inside of this mold, society’s growin old,
I have the choice of being happy, cause in the end it’ll only be me.

Inside of this mold, society’s growin old, 
I have the choice of being happy, cause in the end it’ll only be me.

Where Do I Start?

Where do I start?

You ridicule me for my flaws without evaluating the cause

As to why I strike everything that stands to devour me once and for all.

A battle within me got me continuously beating myself with this bat.

I’m breaking apart at the seams and only I can truly see that,

Where do I start?

The light at the end of the tunnel gets closer, warmer, and brighter,

I try to take a step back, but the space around my feet only gets tighter.

I am now face to face with this black,

The judgment in the front and the damnation in the back,

I’m placed between two worlds; and told I don’t belong.

And the muthafucka that just ostracized me,

Whispers to me he likes the scent of my cologne.

Where do I start?

I’m that black that is needed to make the purest of whites,

But only credited for the multiplied by hundreds televised on the media websites.

Where do I start?

I lay wide awake arms across my chest, in a trance my mind is wondering,

If the number of times I became vulnerable added to this heart crumbling.

I stare at the mini-blinds casting different lines across my bedroom walls

Then the blinding headlights cause my eyes to close and streams of tears to fall.

Where do I start?

Tossing and turning then waking up in a sweat.

From seeing my life flash in front of me, nothing but years of regret.

The reality of it all is that I keep on going

Because what I’m enduring is part of the high calling.

You see I’m simply human so of course I hurt inside,

But the strength that lies within all of this, is you will never see me cry. 

Inner Depths of M.E

BOOM! The first bomb was dropped. A scream echoed through the walls so powerful, so enormous, so loud yet could not explain the pain I felt. All that could escape my barely parted lips was a subtle gasp of air. I didn’t even know what had hit me until I felt the physicality of the wound. My biological mother had taken my younger sisters’ blue leather belt and used it as an alternative mean of discipline to my throat. The image stilled in my brained transmitted the memory of the exact moment of time it happened. I was extremely scared. I didn’t know what to expect, I thought she was going to make me recite something, but it was nothing of the sort. Instead, she had me kneel on the kitchen floor facing the backdoor with my hands to my side, looking straight ahead. 

Now that I think about it, it reminds me of those Military movies when they are about to execute someone, all you can see is the back of them facing you, on their knees,  unaware when the time will come when their life will be taken from them.

Unexpectedly, the belt whipped around my neck and the buckle smacked onto my Adam’s apple instantaneously sending me into a trans-like state of mind. I couldn’t even feel the blood trickling down my neck onto my chest. It wasn’t until my youngest sister Alea told me that I was even bleeding.

 I ran into the bathroom and the reflection of me in the mirror left me…speechless. It was the size of a coin dollar. The flesh of the wound was exposed by a chunk of skin. I was scared I really didn’t know what to do. Should I peel it off? I honestly felt I was going to die. I’ve officially hit rock bottom, my mother didn’t love me anymore.

After a short while of examining the wound, my younger sister accompanied me in the bathroom hugging me and assuring me that together we would get through this. If you haven’t already detected the intimacy of our relationship, we are partners in crime. We went everywhere together.  It was like Peanut Butter and Jelly, cream filling inside the Twinkie, Oreos and Milk. We were just that close.

 I took my face towel, wet it with some warm water and gently dabbed at the wound. It hurt like hell. For a split second I wanted to go inside of my mother’s head just to figure out why she would choose to do damage of this degree to her own child. Maybe there was a reason, however, the conclusions would neither be discovered nor discussed. I would eventually end up leaving my younger sister with my biological mother, never seeing them together at least for another six years.

The PlayGround

Yeah, it's kind of crazy when You think about it. You know how life has its ups and downs especially with relationships; it makes things cloudy, you tell yourself things like yeah, maybe, possibly, but...
I don't understand why I continue to allow myself to get in too deep with my feelings over someone like you.
It just seems too impossible to be without you, by my side, you holding me tight, me knowing that this feeling right.
I don't know if it was the way you smiled, your laugh carried me along so sweetly and I've waited to hear it for a while, the way you form your words, the way it makes my body and mind swerve, DAMN! I can't help but to get dizzy by all of the locomotion, overflowing like the oceans do sometimes.
How it crept in through the night, and remained still in the light, to only resume it's mission of cleansing the heart and establishing the connection of life.
The sensation I feel, gives me the elevation that sends me soaring to heights that my mind can't even conceal. No wait,
It has to be the many times we spent ass out, cast out, pass out underneath our own tent. Exploring each others anatomy, giving life to everything that's limped, Biscuits...mmm, how they rise higher than my own Johnson's limp. Buttermilk biscuits, makes sense?
The same way they taste before, and after, Oozing out all that sweet butter of love, Like I like you liking me, love, You making me make you act in love, with me, freely, licking, trying to consume every inch of....
Night by night, skin to skin, with temperatures so hot it burns my skin.
Sssshhh.....just take my hand.
You see it only takes one person to like another person, but it takes two people to make it happen.
So with that in mind I'll be waiting to hear, these words gently articulated in my ear, confirming what is to be, eternity, your everlasting touch, the one that I remember and loved so much, hot it sends my body through convulsions, causing releases of explosions, yeah you get my notion.
I say you only live once, so if that's true, then can I just this once, get that opportunity to... Or how about this once, us clinging on after we've been through the storm, in the storm, feeling the rain roll down our skin, the rain caressing our man, hoods only protecting us from too much rain for it will only cause sickness that not one of us can stand.
Exciting isn't it. Just this once.
King had a dream and in many ways it came true... I said King had a dream and in many ways it came true. Others say we can all have dreams, but I ask will mines be true too?
Emotions...they're bottled up inside waiting to come out.
Emotions...peaking out...
Kinda scared kinda not, but what the hell it's life right, and you only live once right? Right.
You understand where I'm coming from right?
I see your cards, I've been playing your whole hand, haven't I? That's why you're steady turning in your Carmel brown skin. Body language telling me to stop don't spill it out...but I say depends....
So if you ever see that ONE, you know the ONE that you just can't seem to escape, the ONE. The "good" one that has SOMEONE already on the side, and using you and them on the sly, indicating that the time was good but they have to say bye. The ONE you keep falling for no matter what door opens, closes, opened, closed.
Yes sir!!! They are good, real good. Just as good as I be putting it on them and making them moan and groan until they just can't get enough good. Good enough to do what I please with it and still make it seem to be untouch, a bowl filled to the brim, with request to do it all over again. Hahaha, yeah they're good....REAL GOOD!

Tango: Part IV

Excerpt from Tango

She had the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen; big and round with the perfect shade of brown. Her smile reminded me of my great aunt Lea’s baking. Whenever my brother and I would fight over the last homemade oatmeal raisin cookie, she would open the oven just in time to pull out a fresh batch and place them on the stove top.

“Uh-uh” She would intervene without looking up.

“Now you boys know I don’t like all that fighting carrying on around here.” She would say with that exact same smile as she waddled across the kitchen floor towards us.

Her white apron, blotch stained of cookie batter, draped across her yellow skirt. A fairly aged petite woman, with big hips and narrow shoulders, she looked more like my grandmother than my great aunt. Her breasts were fairly large for her size, and her eyeglasses rested upon them dangling from a silver chain passed down from my great grandmother. Placing her eyeglasses unto her face, she kissed our foreheads and sent us off to wash up for supper. The aroma never did stop once we hit the top of the stairs. It filtered through the house like pollen blowing across the fields of Missouri’s grasslands. Even inside the bathroom, it smelt as though she had mixed the batter right inside the room.

I chuckled.

“Your office is upstairs; the last door on the left.” She explained. “They’re still putting down carpet and moving in furniture, so for now, you can use the conference room down the hall. I apologize; we’ve gotten a little bit behind schedule.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I know how things can get sometimes…I…didn’t get your name?” I asked, leaning against the receptionist desk.

“Cynthia. I’m usually behind that door over there.” She said motioning behind her with her head.

“Jhamela, our receptionist, will be in tomorrow.”

The door stood right in the middle of a wall, behind the receptionist desk. A brass plate embedded on the door read: Cynthia James, M.S.W, Program Coordinator. One hallway on either side framed her office like a photo snapshot. In front, a workstation stood about twenty feet away from the entry into the facility, and was very much the receptionist area. The workstation front casing displayed t-shirts, coffee mugs, and magazines in which the organization’s logo, mission statement, and pictures were printed.

“I don’t blame her. With weather like this, I’d love to be some place warm.”

“True.”

“So, I guess you’re the person I come to if I need anything?”

“Nope.”

“No?”

She chuckles.

“You have an assistant, Stephon; he handles all of your requests and if appropriate, sends them to me. He’ll be in tomorrow. He’s flying in from San Francisco.”

Bakarri coughs. She sees him standing with arms folded looking up at the flat screen above her office door.

“Bakarri! You’re just going to stand there and not speak?”

“Aww Ms. James. It ain’t even like dat. I got caught up in the football game. You know how it is; and, you was talk’n to Siddell…”

“Siddell?”

“My bad, Mr. McClendon.”

“Boy…”

“I told him it’s okay to call me by my first name.” I interrupted.

“Okay…” She contracts her upper body and slightly bows her head. Her lips part making a stretched oval shape and her left eyebrow slightly rises as she sarcastically turns her head and grabs a sheet of paper off the printer.

“…as long as you’re okay with it, I suppose its fine. He already thinks he’s grown.” She cut her eyes towards Bakarri; thin as a razor blade but wide enough to show her playfulness.

“I am grown.” Bakarri defense himself.

“Chile please!”

“You always say dat…” He slightly bumps me in my right shoulder.

“Hi Ms. James, how yo’ day going?”

“Fine…now.” she leans over the desk and hugs him.

“I see you’re still taking care of yourself.”

“Ah-huh! You know, ah-huh, I do what I gotta do when I gotta do it. Ya’ feel me?” He nudges me in my right shoulder again.

“Appearance is everythang! Never know who might see you, gotta be ready at all times. I mean, look at you Ms. James, you know all about dat.”

“So is that a compliment?”

“Fo’sho!”

She laughs.

“I just don’t understand these young men these days. What happen to the old fashion: Excuse me miss, I like your outfit, it looks really nice on you.”

“Nawl, dat’s lame. Nobody says nuh’n like dat no moe’. You gotta be different, ya’ know, smooth.”

Cynthia and I both laugh.

“You said the conference room right? Which way do I go?” I asked before Bakarri could continue on.

“It’s down this right hall, the last door on the left.”

“Alright… It was nice meeting you Cynthia.”

“You too; if there is anything you need before tomorrow, just email me...Oh, I almost forgot; your laptop.”

She places a black leather messenger bag on top of the desk.

“It came in this morning. Also, I put an index card in there with your login and temporary password. You can change it once you’ve logged in.”

“Great, I’ll definitely email you if I need anything.”

“Alright then, well have a great day”

“You too”

“See you Ms. James” Bakarri yells back.

The weight of the bag caught me off guard as I grabbed it from the desk. It seemed like I was carrying two bricks or a slab of cement. What the hell kind of laptop was in here is all I wanted to know.

Blackened

Inspired and based off 4 Women by Nina Simone

-My skin is rough

-My knees are worn

-My back is tough and

-My legs are strong.

-Strong enough to stand on my own,

-Even when I might be alone.

-What do they call me?

-My name is Grandpa.

-Grandpa

-My skin is tough

-My eyes are wide

-Pressured by two worlds,

-I scream inside.

-My intellect got the best of me this time,

-More baggage and more lies.

-What do they call me?

-My name is Emmanuel

-Emmanuel

-My skin is smooth

-My heart is pierced

-A soul is reborn inside me

-This time with fear

-Whose little boy am I?

-DL men or men who are Bi.

-What do they call me?

-My name is Jay D

-Jay D

-My skin is torn

-My manner is bold

-I’ll waste any nigga that cross me,

-I’m just that cold.

-I trust no one but me,

-Nigga’s always out to get me,

-What do they call me?

-My name is DaeDae

MSBC

*Spoken Word piece*

I started off by writing down a question.

Then it dawn on me, what for, it is not like the question would be read, let alone answered.

They say the best way to hide anything from a Black Man is to write it up.

It seems as though the BLACK of a man, has been replaced with the SACK of the man.

Eroticized through the BODY of a BLACK MAN; LACKING, but recognized as a THING.

This THING: Adonis of a sexual creature with an infused muscle that makes many of us sing: My, My, My, My My, My, My, you sure look good tonight.

MSBC broadcasts his ass as though this BLACK is the delicacy of our prime.

Time will soon tell that this BLACK MAN is definitely nothing but his BODY over his mind.

For you see if a brotha would step to the mic and say:

In no way does the edification of my manifestation declares my lack of cognitive processes to interpret the eloquence of a monologue such as this in which I state to you.

Hmph, perplexed in comprehension already, I can read it through many of you. Then NOT take off my shirt, revealing my upper body but button up my shirt, fix my tie, pull up my pants, straighten out my Armani blazer and dust off my Prada boots.

Instantaneously word bubbles congest your minds and you start to put YOUR two to two together, aha! You then arrive to the conclusion that this fine, black, brotha, who takes pride in his appearance, and looks good to the eye, and talks with such articulation that sends many of you, waves crashing down your spine, making a pool of water reciprocate in-between your thighs or your fatty.

Girl what did he just say? My point exactly

You see it wasn’t until I insinuated sex that I caught your FULL attention. My SACK that is, caught YOUR attention.

There is no point for me to finish what I was going to say,

Because you pumped your breaks and came to a screeching halt when I mentioned Armani and Prada, you just knew I was GAY.

Yet, if a brotha would step to the mic and say:

Don’t get it twisted yo, my sex game is on point but a nigga know how to be on some conversating type shit. Why you think I’m talking to you- tryna get ta know you. Muscles flexing as I walk closer towards you, with my jeans sagging and my tims and just like that, I became a hershey’s kiss melting in your mouth. I grin then lick my lips as seductive as my brotha LL would and grab my sack and say “So wassup?”  The ocean has flooded your backsides sinking deep into my cosmos pull you’re lynched-hanging onto my every word.

This BLACK MAN has definitely taken over your mind; my body has suffocated your thoughts of clarity to assess the veracity of MSBC, and you just pushed your way to the front of the line to tug at my infused muscle that lay sleeping underneath its cotton tent. My words didn’t ring through, yet my very essence captivated you, and it is my body you would rather have than my mind.

Now I got you all on the edge of your seats, chill out my peoples, I’m just trying to untie- the knots that have strangled us-cutting off circulation, paralyzing our limbs from realizing our TRUE BEAUTY this time.

BLACK is beautiful that ain’t no lie, but the BLACK and BEAUTY I’m talking about comes from the character that demands attention as soon as I walk in a room. Attention of worthiness, exceptionalness, defiance, strength- the ability to make tension fall like melting butter on top of homemade biscuits- humbling ourselves as we pay homage to the GREAT BLACKS, men & women who have laid- the foundation on which we stand today.

SO FUCK MSBC, let’s get back to maintaining our roots- it don’t matter what you like my manz, you’re my brotha so you’re alright in my book. Hey my manz pull your pants up; don’t talk to the lady like that, this is the proper way of courting, pruning. Hey you need some help? Let me grab that for you, nice job my manz, keep doing what you doing, stay positive and never stay content; nourishment. Oh, and one more thing, from one brotha to anotha, I just wanna say that I love ya before I forget.

You know the good thing about all of what I’ve just said, is that I’ve never once made claims that wasn’t already in your heads. I’m just making you realize, that united we stand, and divided we fall. And I’m sure as hell getting muthafuckin tired of us dying the hell off.

I was so hesitant to say these words to you, but it seems as though we’ve enjoyed, as BROWN says, being manipudiped and screwed. But I’m here to tell you not this BLACK, FINE, STRONG, BROTHA you see. Oops did these words intimidate your ego or masculinity? If so, you’ve made my point precisely. Yet, I challenge you to get on my level and join me- educating- society, BLACK, BROTHAS, hand and hand with the backbones of our BLACK SISTAS continuing on the legacy that has been passed down to us, showcasing our BLACKNESS our UNITY our BEAUTY.

So what was this question I had written down, but was too hesitant to ask?

I really wanted to know if the intelligence, standards, and leadership abilities, are the recommendable characteristics of Historically Black Sororities and Fraternities, or does the SACK continue to dominate individualized identities posing as the real criteria of my fellow black admittees?

I fear it is the end of that latter, which makes me shake my head and say; are these really the principles of the forefathers and mothers of which these brotherhoods and sisterhoods uphold, or have they too been strangled at the roots suffocated by M.ainstream S.ociety B.roadcrasting C.odes.

Remnant of A Letter

...if only these words could reach the inner depths of you; sooner,

smothering all actions to halt and succumb to my speech,

Stop!

The jagged ledges wait for your footsteps.

Tiptoe around each crack and stay close to the walls.

The reflection of each ledge foresees the traps to many pitfalls that lie ahead.
Watch carefully and remain alert.

Now Go!

Awareness #1

Fly Away by Marsha Ambrosius

Verse 1
So sad to see you go so soon, I know that you ain’t coming back.
In the beginning everything was cool, to want to end of it all, it’s all bad.
I know I played my part in making it what it is. And I know that you did the same.
I guess I’m up out of here. I’m moving on again, I’m sure that you will understand.
I play by the rules, you play by the game, I could of had stayed, it’s easier to say.
‘Cause I was by your side, when you went through the pain.
I guess it doesn’t matter now that you’re so far away.

Chorus:
And every minute you’re gone, I’m missing you so,
I can’t believe that you’re; far away.
Can’t get you out of my mind, boy ya out of my life, I can’t believe that you’re; far away
And it would be different, if you could hear me baby.
Now that you’re so far away.

Verse 2
Oo, tear stains on my pillow, trying to forget ya, don’t know what I’m gonna do.
Four days and counting, I been laying here staring myself in the mirror all alone in my room.
I can’t feel this way again, gotta think with my head, ‘cause my heart is what got me here.
So hurt from what you’ve done, more than enough reasons, for me to move on.
‘Cause I gave you my word, to put your trust in me, supposed to be the one, to give you what you need.
I was by your side, and we was meant to be, guess it doesn’t matter now ‘cause you’re so; far away.

Chorus

Bridge
If I done known Sunday morning, that you would be gone, I wouldn’t never come home.
I wouldn’t have answered my phone, to hear the voice at the tone, I knew that something was wrong.
The cops the one who had told me that you was alone inside an empty room.
Identified you as my baby, you are my baby, so far away.

Chorus

Ad Lib
Please come back now, I miss you baby.
Back in my life why don’t you baby.
Been away enough to be (bored?)
Without you, I can’t go on.

*Lyrics transcribed by Eddie D. Burks*

Tango: Part III

Except from Tango:

“You know I wasn’t always like dis. I mean, da way I dress; da way I act; da way I talk. It’s something dat I picked up ovah the years. It’s one of da things dat attract othas to me, so I kept it… I’m two different people, ya know? I don’t really like dis part of me, but, I’ve been molded into dis person; it’s hard to show people da otha me, da real me; fucked up, and feels like his world is a piece a shit! Did you know I am da only boy out of foe children, of course you didn’t, da shit is ridiculous, I have three yunga’ sistas. It’s like so much is on my shouldas man...My momz neva finished High School, she got her G.E.D. though, so I guess dat’s good.” He laughs

“So I have to graduate from college. I mean we struggled most of my life. We just now started to live comfortably…Work’n two part-time jobs and going to school full-time, I’m da only help my momz got. My dad ain’t neva been around, I mean, who knows where da hell he is. Last time I knew, he was in and out of jail. We don’t have no kinda relationship. Fuck dat nigga! We made it dis far, ain’t no need foe his ass now.”

I relax in my chair uncrossing my leg. The outpour from Bakarri definitely caught me off guard. There wasn’t anything that I could do, so I listened. I leaned forward in my chair and clasp my hands together and stared out the window. I was a little hesitant to look at him, so I waited for him to signal to me to say something.

“We moved a lot. And it seemed to always happen when she would get into a fight wit one of her boyfriends. She neva told us why we was move’n, but it’s somethin to watch your momz get her ass beat, den beat yo ass. Shit, I didn’t do a damn thang… Hit those muthafuckas!” He yelled sitting up in his chair.

“I was getting beat wit wooden broom sticks, vacuum cleana tubes, mini blind sticks, chairs, shoes, coat hangas, it didn’t matta. I rememba I was standin inna hallway lookin out da kitchen window at my momz boyfriend in da backyard. There wasn’t a lotta yard back there; about five feet long and ten feet wide dat was between da house and da garage. Both, da house and da garage, was white. Da house was one’na those big two story houses witha’ porch as long as da front of da house. Somethin like Forest Gump mommaz house, just a lil’bit smalla. Some bricks, rocks, dirt, and pieces of glass was thrown against da front wall of da garage and somehow one Sunflower grew in there. I’ll neva fa’get it. He kept pace’n back and forth, and you couldn’t figgah out what he was looking foe. Matta fact, I was wonderin why he was back there. Then, he just picked up one’na those bricks and threw it through da kitchen window at us. It barely missed my momz. If she didn’t duck, she woulda been fucked up. Later dat night, my momz called me inna kitchen. Da glass was still scattered all ovah da floor. When I saw her, I knew somethin bad was about to happen, humph. She sat witta’ legs open on toppa da counta’ next to da sink witta blue-jean skirt and a white tank top. You can see how blood was onna’ panties. Her hair was messed up and da ashtray sat on da counta’ to da right.” He paused.

“She said, ‘get yo’ ass on yo mothafuckin knees and face da back doe’. Right when I didn’t expect it, she hit me witta belt buckle and it wrapped around my neck and hit me right in my esophagus…I had gotten in trouble early’a dat week from school, and I guess she decided now was da time to punish me foe it…I had a fucked up childhood.” He finished.

“Yeah, you thought I didn’t know what dis thing right here is, huh?” He points at his throat.

“I ain’t as dumb as you might think I am…”

 “I never thought that. In fact, I think you are extremely intelligent.”

We both laughed.

“But you know what? I ain’t sweat’n dat shit. I’m inna betta place now.”

“That is definitely a mature and positive approach to handling that situation. Not too many young men can move forward in a positive direction like that.”

“Well thank you. I just…you know… I gotta do what I gotta do when I gotta do it.”

I didn’t cut him off this time. It is true, no matter how life treats you, you have to take the initiative to make something out of it, something better.