ray's ink well

Hyperlinks in effect

2010-08-04T20:12:00.002-04:00

Lets see how many hyper links I can create on obamas birthday. Tutorials are hard to find but you can just about find anything on youtube these days. So if you don't know how to create stuff, now you know.

2010-07-13T22:36:00.003-04:00

Split, quick run fast joe. Cuz the fuzz don't want you no mo. Greetings regret you can have the guest room. Gloom and Doom will be by to visit in the mornin. Keep moving in the right direction, wrong decision always turns into right direction don't you agree. WTF maybe? What did you say my good man? Can I kick it. Yes I can, blackman and what about you. Making life seem worthless or worth less than what you dealing with now? Work the rights and right the wrong, place those lyrics in your songs.

en peace. good to be back.

Wurk the plan.

2009-12-14T20:15:00.002-05:00

Until recently I've been consumed with work. Tireless days of planning the creative of our network. Many days and sleepless nights have pushed me into a zone of selfless accomplishments. Leading the blind, following the deaf and Im the mute that has to translate it all. Follow my words and youll get confused, follow my wisdom and youll find the path. Now it becomes a tougher task to manage when the deaf are introducing blind concepts. not only can I be expected to orally deliver a blind sermon, I also have to configure the translations for the masses. But, wait. The blind now understand. It is me who has slowly become deaf.

Just random

2008-09-13T19:19:00.002-04:00

Random thoughts profit none. I am sitting in the September heat waiting for the streets to call my name. No air conditioning just humidity and sweat. A healing process, can't wait for church to add to the mental renewal. Nature is so unique. Hear the sounds of the birds, the creaks of wood and the stillness of the night. Random thoughts profit none. I slip into the couch, recovering from the merged weeks, months and minutes of my 2008. I awake, parched from the heat. I've got to fix the air. But wait, my elders slaved in this heat both native and foreign. Why is it so hot, is it my active mind with these crazy thoughts...random thoughts profit none. My house is not my own, it belongs to messy marvin. Im not hungry I think I am starving. What to do when I leave the house..Gas is $4.69. What? I'm not going anywhere. I'll ride my bike, great...more sweat.

Random thoughts profit none.

And the Lord Said...

2008-08-03T10:10:00.002-04:00

I had a bit of a relapse into the past. Nervous about the recent sale. I walked out of my house and my neighbor who attends church with me was just coming home from Destiny. Guilty. She told me to have a good afternoon, when she usually would come and join me. Then I heard it. A voice. I ran to the computer and closed my eyes and typed what was below. I haven't read this yet. But I will comment after.

"What do I have to do, in order for you to commit to me. U get high and stoned trying how to escape me but eventually you end up wanting me. Tossed between faith and hope living on the end of your rope, taking a dash at the endless mash of existence and free spirit. The life is so hysterical when yyou continue to grow and tkae yourself down. Come and be free. Com e with me. Eternity. I am . the solution fo rht end. See the star. the highest, the one from abraham and judah paparntly I can only get into you this way. so you can opay the law. walk the line no more.take the plunge or..."

At first I thought about editing it. But it was so deep. I tell you this, in the middle I did interrupt because with my eyes closed I saw a star...and I realized I was in favor. My inter being was touched. It was sad, happy, and felt like home...thats all. Life has to move on. So I'm going to take a pause.

I googled this in Safari. (http://www.allaboutgod.com/salvation-prayer.htm)
What is the so-called Salvation Prayer? What do I do to get "saved?" At one point or another we all ask ourselves this question.

"That if you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved." (Romans 10:9)

"Jesus answered and said to him, 'Most assuredly, I say to you, unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.'" (John 3:3)

The Salvation Prayer is merely a road to rebirth in Jesus Christ. To be born again you must confess Jesus as Lord and believe that He is. When you ask Him into your heart, you are allowing Him to be the Lord of your life. Unfortunately, the Church today has complicated the Salvation message with various layers of extra "stuff."

So, let's get back to the basics!

A. Salvation is the "permission slip" to enter heaven when you leave this world.

B. Salvation takes place when a person listens to the salvation message, believes it, and makes a decision to receive Jesus into his or her heart.

Salvation Prayer - The Simple Steps:
1. Acknowledge in your heart that Jesus is Lord.

2. Confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord.

3. Believe that Jesus died for your sins and was raised three days later.

4. Repent of your sins and get baptized in the name of Jesus.

Salvation Prayer - Merely a Tool to Communicate Our Faith
The Salvation Prayer is not a ritual based on specific words. This is not the power of a prayer, but the power of truly committing our lives to Christ as Savior and Lord. The following is merely a guideline for our sincere step of faith:

"God, I recognize that I have not lived my life for You up until now. I have been living for myself and that is wrong. I need You in my life; I want You in my life. I acknowledge the completed work of Your Son Jesus Christ in giving His life for me on the cross at Calvary, and I long to receive the forgiveness you have made freely available to me through this sacrifice. Come into my life now, Lord. Take up residence in my heart and be my king, my Lord, and my Savior. From this day forward, I will no longer be controlled by sin, or the desire to please myself, but I will follow You all the days of my life. Those days are in Your hands. I ask this in Jesus' precious and holy name. Amen."
If you decided to repent of your sins and receive Christ today, welcome to God's family. Now, as a way to grow closer to Him, the Bible tells us to follow up on our commitment.
Get baptized as commanded by Christ.
Tell someone else about your new faith in Christ.
Spend time with God each day. It does not have to be a long period of time. Just develop the daily habit of praying to Him and reading His Word. Ask God to increase your faith and your understanding of the Bible.
Seek fellowship with other followers of Jesus. Develop a group of believing friends to answer your questions and support you.
Find a local church where you can worship God.

Come with me...its going to be one heck of a ride. Why not...we've seen it all.

En Faith.

Greek or not Greek that is the question

2008-03-09T08:46:00.003-04:00

So recently I attended a huge For us By us event, a going away event hosted by a Director of my company for a mentor to us all. After a few kind words, appetizers and banter I noticed the red wine bottles piling up in the trash. (of course I was angry) "Come on!" I said to the host. Where is your recycling bin? She replied, "Its too much trouble..." and quickly darted into the other room. I turned to another sista in the room and asked "Do you recycle", she stared me in the eye and said..."I'm the kind of person who likes to destroy the world!" I stood amazed, baffled even. "So, you..." ahh.. this is when I need to take the cue to leave the green living mantra on the doorstep, she cut me off so quick..."Don't start with me, you and I both know Im not going to change..." I replied..."Ok, Im going to create you a t-shirt that says f-the world"

But again I digress, the whole purpose of my longwinded intro was to talk about Greek life. As the night moved on we started talking about old school music, (mind you I am the youngest in the room at 38), one thing led to another and boom...aka's were skee weeting, deltas were ooo oopin and us males were playa hatin each others organization. (Although, we all know that the Nupes were represented well in the house...even if I was the only one! Phi Nu my brotha, phi nu pi my brothas...yo baby yo!!) Anyhow...I started to wonder. Does the black greek system have something unique that makes us all leaders? Is there something about early management education that creates a young man or woman to become great. Or is it the pledge process that makes the individual? Very interesting. So, I log on to my linkedin page and realize...I know a ton of folks who belong to historically Black Fraternities/Sororities. Almost all of which are doing pretty good. But I need to dive deeper into the subject. Are these people workers or managers. I'm going to do a bit more research. But my hypothesis would suggest that anyone who belongs to an organization in college will learn the skill of management. But, to learn how to manage a diverse group of your peers and to provide a solid direction without drifting off course....by any means necessary...well...perhaps being greek has something to do with it. Early experience of handling budgets and scheduling work around classroom schedules. Handling damage control and keeping the perception positive and upwardly mobile...all sound like things that I am doing now...so perhaps I am on to something...or perhaps its just a coincidence that 65% of the room was full of greeks and the remaining 35% dropped or were unavailable for comment. Smile.

Am I crazy or did you just say...you smoked crack?

2008-02-23T09:53:00.002-05:00

Ok, So I was kicking it with one of my cousins boys. You know how we do "family", we adopt folks into our inner circle because they know your cousin and your cousin knows them from some random chick he used to kick it with, who just so happens to like the same things your cousin likes...yadda, yadda...yadda...3 months later you and "cousin jeff's boy" are out kicking it on the streets of the ATL trying to show them the city. Are you following me? Good. So, me and cousin jeff's boy are out clubbing, he gets a phone call...ring.."hello". its cousin jeff's boys ex baby momma on the other line. Why does cjb go on and on, raising his voice, screaming etc..and then clamps the phone, and slams it on my dash. (side note. Brotha, if you ever slam you f'n phone on my dash again...me and you are going to have to step outside and handle this like men.) After apologizing for the character flaw, cjb decides to catch me up with his life. (Side note: Why do people think I am their personal counselor? I mean, isn't there health plans for therapy? I guess my advice, no matter how skewed it might be...is free and at times, pretty logical..from my perspective that is...) Anyhow, you still with me? Oh yeah...cousin jeff's boy...continues to talk about how his ex, or should I say soon to be ex-wife, is pressing for a divorce and wants closure. Ok thats cool. So I do my Dr. Phil impersonation "So, why do you think you haven't provided her with a divorce, cousin jeff's boy?" He replies, "Well, man...its like this...you know sun, know wha I mean, kid its like yo, she just don't awshit that itch jus dunt undastand me yo." I rephrase the question "So why do you think you and her are apart?" he replies..."See this chick man, she be addin pressa to the sitchiation you know, she just run her mouth and be asking me to do all this crazy isht." I think about it and realize...dude is hurt by this chick and still is in love...so I have to ask him..."Dude so, why are you here and not with her working it out." The reply floored me. "Man, see this chick she is so crazy that she made me smoke crack!" (Side note: ok you know the part in the movie when the record scratches when the black character walks into the western bars, add that sound effect here.) So, I have to play this off...my mind starts racing. His rambling goes into the teacher from the peanuts mode...wah, wah, wah, wah....as I comprehend what he just told me. I stop. I think about it and I ask cjb..."Am I crazy or did you just say you smoked crack?" I was corrected..."She made me smoke crack!" (Side note: ok, you know the drill, no one can make you jump off the bridge, pull the trigger...yadda yadda, NUKKA IS YOU CRAZY! YOU SMOKED CRACK...no one had a gun to your head...fool...you was on them rocks...) So, I let him explain...but meanwhile I was backtracking through my house, my car, my events over the past few weeks...Oh crap...did this crackhead...

needless to say...cousin jeff's boy...is now under investigation, by my homeland security system. Don't judge me...for judging old boy...dude smoked crack. Ok...that is enough. if you smoke weed, your a weedhead. if you drink alcohol..you are a drinker...if you sleep with babymommas...you are a mf'r right??? I mean come on...(well, the mf'r is a stretch...but that was a pretty clever joke, huh...? got to give a brother some props for that...) any way...Im curious. how many people actually know someone who has smoked crack? better yet how many crackheads are successful? (and not as street corner merchandise salesmen.)

Birth of a Leader

2007-12-02T14:58:00.000-05:00

Titus is a not so well known book within the New Testament, one of the three so-called "pastoral epistles" created as a letter from Paul to Titus. I attended church today and once again God hit me with a rather serious blow to the noggin. What does a leader do to get ahead? How does an appointed leader get the attention of those who are running amuck? How do I move our team into the HD Battle...Check out this chapter...(Knowing I am not a minister...yet?)

An elder must be blameless, the husband of but one wife, a man whose children believe and are not open to the charge of being wild and disobedient. 7 Since an overseer is entrusted with God's work, he must be blameless--not overbearing, not quick-tempered, not given to drunkenness, not violent, not pursuing dishonest gain. 8 Rather he must be hospitable, one who loves what is good, who is self-controlled, upright, holy and disciplined. 9 He must hold firmly to the trustworthy message as it has been taught, so that he can encourage others by sound doctrine and refute those who oppose it. 10 For there are many rebellious people, mere talkers and deceivers, especially those of the circumcision group. 11 They must be silenced, because they are ruining whole households by teaching things they ought not to teach--and that for the sake of dishonest gain. 12 Even one of their own prophets has said, "Cretans are always liars, evil brutes, lazy gluttons." 13 This testimony is true. Therefore, rebuke them sharply, so that they will be sound in the faith 14 and will pay no attention to Jewish myths or to the commands of those who reject the truth. 15 To the pure, all things are pure, but to those who are corrupted and do not believe, nothing is pure. In fact, both their minds and consciences are corrupted. 16 They claim to know God, but by their actions they deny him. They are detestable, disobedient and unfit for doing anything good.

Now my remix:
An leader must be blameless, the artist of but one passion, a man whose staff believe and are not open to the charge of being wild and disobedient. 7 Since an Art Director is entrusted with the network's redesign, he must be blameless--not overbearing, not quick-tempered, not given to drunkenness, not violent, not pursuing dishonest gain. 8 Rather he must be hospitable, one who loves what is good, who is self-controlled, upright, holy and disciplined. 9 He must hold firmly to the trustworthy message as it has been taught, so that he can encourage others by sound doctrine and refute those who oppose it. 10 For there are many rebellious people, mere talkers and deceivers, especially those of the previous design group. 11 They must be silenced, because they are ruining whole households by teaching things they ought not to teach--and that for the sake of dishonest gain.... /12 removed due to hear say/ 13 This testimony is true. Therefore, rebuke them sharply, so that they will be sound in the redesign efforts 14 and will pay no attention to criticism or to the commands of those who reject the truth. 15 To the pure, all things are pure, but to those who are corrupted and do not believe, nothing is pure. In fact, both their minds and consciences are corrupted. 16 They claim to know God, but by their actions they deny him. They are detestable, disobedient and unfit for doing anything good.

A rhyme

2007-03-25T21:56:00.002-04:00

Turn the pages, spin.
Design the world with a grin.
Take the world by storm.
Enjoy the pursuit of happiness...

Flip the dough, word.
Make dat chedda curd.
Save that lout, fa sho.
Enjoy the pursuit of the dead pres...

Find that wife (oh yeah)
move on to the next life (aw yeah)
discover pregnancy twice
Enjoy the labors of love...

Take, make, wish and plan..all these things make you a man
dream, desire goals and more...discover things beyond your shore
take make wish and plan...aint no future in your frontin', procrastinate no mo.

Read on...

2007-03-25T21:56:00.001-04:00

The dark hole that sits beyond my mind is so colorful and rich that your vision is blurred. Look beyond the lines of text and peer into my soul. Inside you will see pure joy and happy thoughts, for it is true, our true nature is childlike. I dream of playtime with simple pleasures...only to awaken to the realities of the day. Read on, improve, educate plan and perform. Plan to be the best and you ultimately will. Be all you should be...not could be or can be. Read on...into the 65th year and see a man skiing in Aspen, vacationing in Bahia and roaming the European coast. Read on and witness the joy of a newborn and the pain one endures when a loved one moves on. Read my mind, read my thoughts, but most of all read me. The man you once knew, the man you know now and the man that I have yet to become.

en peace.

here I go again...

2007-03-25T21:56:00.000-04:00

Once again, the break up ends where the drama begins. Onward and upward. Time out. look in the mirror and see a shell of the image that used to be. All I can do is regroup and become the image in my mind and not the image everyone else sees. Funny thing perception and vision. Both have double meanings. Clearly, I need to remember this when I am stepping into the next mrs. or ms.

I heard the phrase for the first time in my life:
"How old are you?"
38 I replied
"You got any kids"
No, I am single
"What's wrong with you?"
Career Driven!
"Ohhh, ok.."

What the heezy. Black women, look at how you reject a man. First you want a man with no children, then you find a man with dreams and ambition but fail to support and uplift him.

I called an ex:
"Step your game up"

I called a cousin:
"You always doing something"

I called one of my boyz:
Damn Ray, your azz keep running through women, I thought she was the one.

So did I.

Oh well..

Lil' Cuz

2007-01-13T09:12:00.000-05:00

I have this younger cousin, well before I get into that story I guess I have to start from the jump. I am obviously from Detroit, and I have tons of family. Detroit is just one of those "Family" kind of towns. Christmas, Memorial Day, the 4th, etc...are all big travel dates for folks to fly in to...yep you guessed it Detroit Michigan. The Love is so great that it just ooozees into your heart the min you get there...after about 30 min...the potholes and burnt down cribs...ooozzee that luv right into your backside. Of subject again. So, My cousins are different in every way. But for some reason we all share one unique quality. We are hustla's. We move and shake, we make deals, we dance wit the devil and give props to god. Sure, its a scary road to live. Party is not something that is uncommon, it is in our nature. But, I have this one cousin, who just drops out of touch every so often and I get concerned. Now this is serious. I guess the younger cousin has had trouble with the law, (who hasn't) and has just gone in-cog-negro. So here is my top ten reasons why we should not forget family:

10: Who's going to bury your ass when you die.
9: God don't like ugly
8: Who else are we going to talk about during the family diners
7: You know you will be talked about, until you are forgotten.
6: Aint no turning back once you are considered lost
5: A phone call can heal all wounds, a visit can revitalize you and a hug can restore faith
4: Family is the only set of friends that will tell you the truth
3: You can fall in love with a stranger but you can't fall out of love with family.
2: In a time of struggle, you may need someone who has your back.

Which brings me to a good point...#1
We are here to fight for you. Pray for you and cheer for you when you are down...but no one, and I mean no one can do anything unless you are around.

Lil' Cuz or in this Case Big cuz. Stop being a loner and call a bruh. Perhaps you need to start drinking...to take a load off... or better yet smoke an "L"

en peace.

Live @ urban grind...

2006-05-20T07:52:00.000-04:00

The sleeping giant awoke last night. Or should I say yesterday evening. Urban Grind, a local coffee shop/lounge celebrated its Grand Opening. Yours truly, dj'd a set for Happy Hour. An eclectic mix of Funky Jazz break beats and Soul, mixed perfectly with the essence of arabica beans. While spinning in the club I recalled the days of climbing the 4 flights of stairs with my crates of records and cds, at the Student Radio Station in MSU's auditorium. I remembered the journeys to Flint, Detroit, Cleveland and Grand Rapids to MC Rap Concerts. I searched the memoirs of my mind and recalled the KRS-one interview, the interview with "The Minister", Chuck D, Russell, Eazy, The Roots, The Fugees, Ice Cube and others. When I raised my head, I noticed the coffee shop full of excitement. Instead of grabbing coffee and dashing, they were chilling on the couches, bobbing their heads to the melodies while engaging in casual and animated conversations. The perfect avenue for a DJ/voyuer. I engaged each individual with a smile and a rhythmic nod. "Sup" I would say or throw-em a peace sign. While searching for the next track. No, this wasn't pre-produced. It was all spontaneous as it should be. I slipped my headphones on and recalled the days of my youth once more...My younger brothers, secretly plotting while I slept the morning away. Craig & Carl both received thier music gifts early...Hey, when you get promotional items 247...why not break some off for the family. My dogs! My boys. my two best friends. These cats both have an eclectic ear, 1/2 oliver and 1/2 sams. Their dad (my dad) was a muisc collector. Fridays, afterwork he would jam out in the basement, doing who knows what, and just shake the house with vibrant and soulful melodies...and now I was following in his footsteps...1/2 sams and 1/2 oliver. Dropping beats like a fly-fisherman on a hot streak. I looked up, and the room was full, brothers would step up and ask..."Excuse me...who is this that you are playing?" or "What's the name of this track?". Boy-o-Boy was I blessed with an ear. 1/4 sams and 1/4 Wilhite. Somehow the right ear, the headphone free ear can find a break or a drop at the right time. But at some points my left ear can just find the right song to play no matter what!.

So, To Claude, To Craig and Carl, To My Uncle Thomas, To Bobby and Deb Sams...I salute you for bringing music into my life...Oh and I can't forget my moms...who took the TV away during the week, but never had the heart to take away my radio.

What...who is this cat? Oh-no...a Dj's worst nightmare...a conversationalist, while in the mix. Christ almighty. Go and sit down. I am at peace, bruh...I fill the small corner with idle chit-chat. While desperately searching for my next track. I check my time. Man this bruh is still asking questions. What the hell, people don't understand the zone..."Hold on for a minute bruh!" I had to break face. I went from casual and complacent to, urgency and denial. Naw dog, you aint going to break my flow, yeah I can multi-task, but I remember how to DJ and talk...ignore that mutherfucka. and do yo thang. Can't sacrifice the room for an idiots request. I remember doing gigs back in College. "Do you have the electric slide", I would give them the ever popular DJ reply: "I'll try to get it on!" but in the back of our minds, we look at the floor, we look at our crate and say..."shiiiiiiiitttttt" (like the black officer in 25th hour). Take a sip of the yak and keep it moving.

To Crazy Caz, Steve Carrington - Prime minister X factor, Dj Head, Lady Kapone, Grand incredible, Dj Energy, The Cultural Vibe crew past and present, To Kurt Reed and the Playlist staff, To Radio One, WJLB and WHFR for giving me the opportunities to do my thing.

Aw damn, dog, can you just leave me the fuck alone...what the hell, are you one of them down low niggas? Why are you now flipping through my shit? Fuckin bastard now I got to go to church on Sunday for all of this cursing that I am doing under my breath. And I just missed my break. Dude, didn't you see the group of fine sistahs that just walked in the door? And, you are watching me? Talking to me while I am workin? AWWWWWWW helll naw, no you didn't just drop my shit on the floor. What an idiot. :My fault!" bet your ass and your gay ass lover that its your fault. Step to the rear...I was finally free. Free to slip back into what was left of a zone. Shit where's my Badu? I know that cat didn't take my....oh, nope there it is...Thank God I know how to stack records and keep the rotation hot...

To Rick Wilhite, my fam my ace, my personal music guru. Bless you and your gift. No better cousin to have than an international DJ. To The Three Chairs, Thanks for raising the bar so fuckin high. But now that I think about it...Thanks for raising the bar. To the Detroit Dj's keepin it hot. To Mr. and Mrs. Crawford for giving me my first opportunity to DJ, at the age of 12.

I look up, and the room starts to empty. I look down, the cd has reached the 79:57 mark. I'm done. I extend the mix for an additional 34 mins. Watching as the Happy Hour turns into a Dinner Dash...preparation for the Friday festivities...time to pack up.

To Land Rover, Sony, Technics, Mackie, Kenwood, Phillips and God.

Thanks for making music sound and travel so well.

en peace.

DEATH DEALIN AND STEALIN...

2006-05-07T09:46:00.000-04:00

I am now 37. My birthday slowly crept by. I was hoping for the day to just slip by. Just a blur from Monday to Wednesday. But, again Big Geezy in the sky had other plans. I was to spend a restfull set of days off chillin at 826 with my to do list in one hand and my paint brush in the other. Gas prices were to high to hop on 75 and I waited to long as usual to book a flight. So, just as I stuck my hand into my pants, reclined on the couch and sipped on a brew, I get this phone call.

Did you hear? Are you serious? So soon, But wait, didnt his Dad just pass away last week?

There he goes again with his sick humor, Big Geezy, How do you want me to trust you when you deal blows so tough to those who deserve better. This brotha had 3 kids and an awesome life, why take his wife? A blur of questions hit my head. 911, foster kids, aids in africa, for that matter aids in america. Herpes viruses are now as common as a cold. I circle back...Why do we focus on AIDS as the number one killer. When we really know that it is Cancer? Geezy, answer that one. Where is Little Jesus when we need him? But I cling to your faith. I understand we don't know. All we are doing is stealing time on earth. Just waiting for the day you unlock us from these capsules and allow us to snowboard into the wind.

I steal, I deal and I can cause Death you may say.

How do I know the difference from you and his evil ways.

Show me a sign, of true life as it is in your eyes.

When you get to the end of your rope you are to tie a knot and hold on.

but in darkness how do you know when you are at the end?

Big Geezy - you need to, no betta shed some light on this picture.

Frustration has me back in the trees, for therapy and the comfort of cloudy vision.
Because everytime I see clear, I see pain.

en faith

Back 4 more?

2006-02-26T12:30:00.000-05:00

Why do you come back for more? After all you were once my chore, my exercise and my delayed ok. I enjoyed our time, only when you came through, stayed a while or continued to the next day. I treated you wrong, that is for shure. But as I get older, I wonder what will come out of this event...she'll be back for more.

Funny, how women can be dogged to the last straw, and still have an ounce of hope that they can come back for more. Perhaps he'll change, or I hope he'll wake up. I cant get it. If I like you I would have shown it. Or would it be just a time for me to be once again the brotha that you love to hate. I am not a player. I am not a beast. I am just a guy who can't seem to sleep. I often spend my most restless nights when I am alone. I pick up the celly only finding that no one is home. I fear the Lord and being alone. So why do I choose to be the single man? Is it because they come back for more, or could it be that I am just another whore. I love the way she makes me feel, until the jisim falls down my leg. Then, for kicks, I'll make them beg. Perhaps for another round or for a hug or two. I don't like you chick, I just wanted to screw. All night I find a way not to get attached, but just when the goings gotten good. I finally have met my match. Am I just a tease, or is she turning me out. Scream, I boast! Show me a sign that I match up to this heavyweight bout. The champ I was until she came along. Now I understand that old James Brown Song. Please, Please, Please...keep doing what you are doing. This is more than love, this just aint screwing. Now this is what I am talking about, this is old fashion sex. Where the sheets are off and the bed is wet. This is the groove that I love so much. She knows how to make me moan...I can't believe she only cost $100 bucks. Yeah I said it, I paid for the puddy. Now I am old, mature and one step away from the golden years. But I am only holding back my sorrows and these platinum tears. I am retired from the club and those ghetto days. Only to find myself in a 30 somethin lifelong maze. I wonder if I can make a change. Flip the house around and keep the guests amazed. Can I shelter my assets and balance my books, can I still kick game like bailifs know crooks? Am I witty an wise like the elders from before...or will I call her back, to enjoy the puddy once more. I digress, I get bald, I am a prune and I die.

Unhappy, upset and with a lazy eye. Focused on my life and scrolling through the years. It was the good ones that got away and the bad ones who were around for years. They should have been kicked to the curb, castaway from the shore. But my stupid ass invited them Back 4 more.

Triangle...

2005-08-07T17:55:00.000-04:00

This weekend I hooked up with a few of my boys that I haven't touched base with in years. In fact it has been so long that they both have sprouted 5 new seeds betwix the two. So, the time on my hands must have been idle. While these cats were out there reproducing some pretty cute designer babies, here I am sitting around the condo worried about when I am going to fix the leaky roof. We would've taken a few "l's" to the head back in the day. But now, I just watch these brothers work the cipher without me. We went down in the dungeon, and made a few beats. Creative, yes, productive no. In fact I was so taken back at their creative process that I know now why these dudes aren't famous. The weed gets you. What the hell was I thinkin for so long. Here I am on the verge of accepting a new job, "a dream job" even...and I witness, the decay of two good men. One selling cars, another delivering pizzas and the third working the late shift unloading trucks. note that I am not putting them out there to be critical, I am actually checking myself...Let me explain.
Back at MSU I was a card carrying member of the "Cipher" a place where only true heads belong. We would blaze up and get wildly creative. I recognized Genuis in two of my Cipher companions and eventually we would all go our separate ways. The ATL is and has always been a magnet for crazy folk and friends. So, as time has moved on, The cipher has lost a few members and gained a few too...with expulsion from the cipher comes an introduction to the herbal free zone. Like a 401K you have the ability to transfer your cipher credits into alcoholism, overeating, or become a passionate church member... I guess that I have found a happy balance of alcoholism and overeating, but I am sure there are plenty more "rollover" solutions...but hey that is another story...lets break away from that tangent and move back to the point...The Genuises...we'll time moves on, yadda yadda yadda...and experience has landed two of the triangle in jail countless number of times and also into the carrer path that they have chosen. Me on the other hand...I have been in a self imposed prison. A jail cell of pitty and desireless romance. So, when I kick back with the ol' heads of the nomatic atoms/ next level ent and Buckets ent....I realized that I was in the worst position. Why? well considering the artform, the passion the energy the drive...these cats are at the brink of pushing their potential...all they need is the third person to push them, to drive them to steer them to the right path...but that was my job then and the best question is...is it my job now? I've got so much at stake with my corporate life...4 walls "The White Man's Burden" (do a google on that one), and I want to live like a rock star. But, realistically, what it takes is a 10 year passion to do well, to put down all naysayers and negative. To live with God's plan, no matter where it takes you. To be real with your inner child and grasp that everlasting gobstopper and rock the fuck on. See the time we spend making other fuckers money is time that we could have had our own. These folks don't care. My 2 components of the cipher, my homies in the D, my cousins friends family all try to cover up the truth...but the truth is...you will never be happy on the bottom. That is why the triangle exists...So, we chatted we talked and one of the cipher big Buckets came up with a great concept...

"the happy balance is cool, Responsiblity, Passion and Duty" Some, do their duty 85%. Some are responsible 85% but the passionate ones...are those who dedicate 35% 35% and 100% all the time. It doesn't add up...I know...and that is the mystery behind the Triangle. Ask any entertainer, any movie star any politician...somehow these folks have managed to master the art of percentages. The only problem is...what happens when your responsible duties ask for their share of the 100%? That would be the definition of Drama...

en faith.

Power of the Puddy

2005-06-23T15:49:00.000-04:00

Often women ask me why am I still single. I often find myself in the mirror asking the same question. But, after all the debates and careful considerations, I realize that I am single because of the Puddy. Yes, I could say that sex is a powerful weapon but that would be the Power of another sort. In this case the Puddy is not what you may think...Puddy, is an event. A reaction to the ultimate knee dropping prospect, realistic or faux...

Here's an example of what I am getting at.

"Hey, Jim you seem to be a good lookin brother, got your stuff together...why are you single"

Response:

"Well......, it isn't that simple, I am just trying to find Mrs. Right...(blah, blah, blah)"

Where's the Puddy in this statement? Mrs. Right? I am just Trying? hell no! The Puddy is the thought prior to the first Word and the comma, and within the long pause prior to the "exspla-nasion". Puddy is the thought of marriage, the thought of settling down with someone. Puddy is so powerfull that it outweighs the Pu$$...well I don't need to go to much further...I just gave it a name to confuse you of course. But, as I sit here I realize that a brother's pause after the infamous "Why" question is very important to his ID. Alpha males are cool and relaxed with their response. While their anxious counterparts are often perplexed and fill in the blanks with a rapid fire of excuses. The puddy is just a situation that most of us "momma's boys" find ourselves in. We want to marry someone like our Momma, Grandaunties and 4th grade teachers. Of course we need that comfort and conditioning of a nurturing woman, but she has to be a closet freak as well. (SEE KIDS don't Kiss Mommy blog) But. The pause...is so interesting. How can you sum up a life's search in one sentence? It is almost like asking a Virgin why she chooses to stray away from the bedroom. To most men, marriage is a matter of the heart. We take the knee in order to promise the path of righteousness. But the power of the Puddy keeps us at arms length from our chosen path. Actually we never really have the answer. We just know what we want...but it is so hard to describe. The Puddy...Potential of Underestimating the Dramatic Detailed "Yes"!
How do you propose, who picks out the ring, is she capable of blending in with the family, do I really care, why should I be the one to change, what about her looks, can she cook, does she always snore like that, ...I could keep writing the details but the bottom line...The Puddy is what causes the scrutiny, the judgement and in somecases the abuse.

It is so powerful. But so easy to answer...just choose one. not two or three...just one.
But which? when and how...

What you find at the club stays at the club...What you find at the church lives at the church...
lurk late strike straight. Good with the money tight with the tummy. The total number of shoes equals the number of problems in her life. Constantly shopping never satisfied with what she has...

Get the picture...

en peace

Ray

It is he who...

2005-06-21T17:50:00.000-04:00

Tuggin at my soul he is,
control has my mind twisted,
I awake steady.

Rolling deep into the midst of my minds inner core,
the crow applauds just a bit more,
still my pocket remains torn.

As witty as roadkill,
wiser than humankind
bitter and sweat. sublime.

Why? Ask me tomorrow.
When? Yesterday.
Who? No one
How? Wisdom.

Truth comes forth daily,
Passion commeth with the lad,
Administer the lesson and learn the word.
Terror is in the law of opposite thinking.

en peace.

Sledgehammer to the chest...

2005-06-20T15:47:00.000-04:00

Lets just say that I'll be hangin' around the ATL a little bit longer than I expected. 2nd place sucks. But, hey can I get something for this sledgehammer dent in my chest? Arghhhh. Back to the drawing board...

Scattered Showers, ptly cloudy 42º.

What god has for me is ment to be...there aren't any problems in life, just plans.

I guess I'll have an "eye" on "fox" hunting or perhaps, I'll just purchase some "TNT".

Meanwhile...back to the maps.

en peace.

wait watcher

2005-06-16T14:35:00.000-04:00

I "hait" to wait. Waiting in line, waiting to go out, waiting to eat, waiting for job opportunities to reveal the answer...need I say more?

The debate:
I waited for time to end, and it never came.
What a drag. I watched the sun slowly take a nightime bath,
and it came up the next day with dew and humidity.
What a drag. I soaked in the shower for about a half an hour,
and I came out cold and shivering at 12:31. Hot water is a drag.
Hows about a sport where both teams win. couldn't have that now could we, that just wouldn't be american.
I once went to a church, I waited for Jesus and I never saw him.
I talked to God though, but I had to wait for his answer...what a drag. But I'm glad. Glad that I could see the sun, feel the morning glory dew drops on my brow, Take a shower and come out clean, stress free, relaxed and a little less mean.
If only I can find a sport where everyone wins...unless you can call life a sport.
Always count on Jesus and we all win in the end...or you could just watch MTV and burn in hell.

en peace.

Growing Gray day by day

2005-06-12T08:36:00.000-04:00

Back in the 1900's, my grandmother used to serve me breakfast in the morning. The pancakes were a golden burnt color, the eggs scrambled and the bacon crispy. I was a king in the small bungalo on Stansbury. Me, my Atari and the TV would spend hours together until my back would just give out. Once that took place I would sit on the porch with my Grandfather and mimic all of his motions and actions. We would watch the neighbors work on their cars, the kids downn the street sell their nickle bags of weed. We would occasionally peek at the desperate housewives down the street. It moved along so quickly, the days of old. Now I'm in the middle-aged portion of my life and I often find a strange barrier that separates me from the boy on the porch and the buisness professional behind the desk. No smart ass it isn't the gut. Pan up, zoom in and focus on these little gray pieces of wisdom growing on my dome.

Gray hair. Common for the family. In fact my grandfather had a full head of gray hair for as long as I can remember. It was salt and pepper for a while come to think of it, but as he grew closer to 70 + he became all grey quickly. And now, here I sit typing away and the gray hair just continues to grow and grow. The stress can't be the source of gray hair. The wisdom should be, but if that is the case I am certainly due for a few more. Despite my boastful thoughts, I am still rocking a tight taper with a back fade and the gray hair just adds to my overall sexy. Especially in my beard. You got it. Welcome to the 30something crowd. There is no turning back. and the grays...well lets just hope they slow down a tad.

Gone are the days in the dark, it seems we two must part.
waves of gray stimulate my day, while situations become works of art.
My temple grows old, rusty molds seem to invade every pore.
Yet my alter, my soul seems to still be in control yearning for days of ancient lore.
Criminals seem odd, children a blessing while arguments become tools of fools.
Leadership is grand and grays are bland in a field of negro wool.
I cultivate my lust, keep mobile eyes keen, but dream of leaving this scene.
But day by day, I am still this way and the time ticks with another instalment of gray.
No bling, this ring is still locked in my mind.
Make time, get active, grow old become a baptist. All seems like water under the bridge.
Yet older minds know the gray will grow, despite the troublesome times.

en peach

Waiting on the wings...

2005-05-22T11:20:00.000-04:00

Waiting for the day...
Ok all you folks in blogger land. I am still waiting to hear from ESPN. No word, but it has only been 1.5 weeks. I was the first to interview and will probably be the last to hear from them. (I hope!) My current job is getting me mentally prepared for what is obviously next. Life has become a huge reflection lately. Constant reminders of laziness, gluttony and sloth. Prayer is power but I am also getting bombarded with friends who are pregant, engaged or purchasing a new home. What the heezay. I need a change. So, as a contingency plan I have decided to interview some more. If there really aren't any jobs out there then I will pimp TWC for a Masters. If I can take the BS'in for two years longer. I am in need of a structural, physical and mental makeover. Burnout from this design world approacheth, and all I do constantly is escape...and the bottle has become a new friend. Much like the weed of the past...nah, never like the weed of the past. In fact, I have been running 2miles a day...(on the days when my allergies aren't so bad.) So, on the up and up...I just need something great to come along my way. A woman, an experience and a new reflection in the mirror. But the reflection in the mirror never changes overnight...does it?

En Peace

Aint No Future in your frontin...

2005-04-29T14:15:00.000-04:00

This one goes out to all you folks out in bloggerland who are holdin' on to fake identities and secret lifestyles. A poem I like to call: No Future in the Front

On the front door ain't no knobs, or door knockers. Just a plain door without the frills.
Of course one can easily see the mystery right away. Don't play, just be real. Knock on the door, and you'll see it is hollow., can't you follow? one swift kick and it will cave in. Can't hold the heat and cold drafts blow in. Keep it real, be who you are, cuz one day the secret becomes a scar. Keep on Frontin and the world will know you as a liar.

The front door is the portal to your fort. The dynamic entry to all sorts of reality. Do you really want to continue this fantasy? Aint no Future in your Frontin. Keep it movin Dog. Do you like kissing the princess who is really a frog. Mistaking Droopy for Deptuty dog. Callin Fat Bastard a heart throb, Be a snob like paris da dishwasher blond bomb shell with secrets as well...oh swell, what you thought we couldn't tell. Might as well keep it real. Here's the deal. On the low, pick out yo fro...and hold his hand. Be the man. Not the clam, deep in the shell. It is better for us sharks in the sea. I like to know the difference from you and me...perhaps then we can better understand, the master plan...but until then aint no future in your frontin.

I aint hatin on the way you roll, just displayin how the game got you controlled. Afraid to be who you really are, diverse and all, at the club you scream "yes, yes, y'all" but at home you say "hell naw!" pick and roll aint a basketball play it is the safe way to play. Back and forth only works in the swimming pool and with airline tickets. Lemony Snicket or Snickers. Grab your knickers and keeps it real.

Dedicated to all the women living with AIDS - contracted from a Down Low Demon.

En Peace!

Brotherly Love

2005-04-28T10:31:00.000-04:00

While I sit here and type up this email, you have to understand a bit of background. I am importing close to 25 CDs from my Brother Carl by way of my Brother Craig. Huh? you may ask...well just understand...I got a serious hookup. Over the years I have been blessed with a number of friends who enjoy music. My Stepfather, Dynamite Disco Downstairs DJ was the first, He used to jam out to the R&B classics on Friday nights and the whole house would be boppin to Marvin, Elton and Stevie...James too...But, then came the R&B explosion..My next door neighbor, Johnny...man he had a record collection out of this world...Shouts out to the smith family. My Father, wasn't too shy on his collection but he would just attend parties and oddly enough he hipped me to the Hip Hop scene back in the late 70's. "Ray you might want to listen to this station 107.5 WBLS on Saturday nights..." from that point it was on...My uncle Thomas had a collection of records that spanned back into the early 1950's. His son Ricardo began a music career and now is an internationally known dj.

This past weekend, I had a wonderful weekend with my family. We didn't have a family dinner which is rare, but at this point the Graduation party was enough...was it ever...I had a blast meeting my brothers friends and I also had plenty of "drank". But, beyond the libatious weekend...I just enjoyed my family. I remember at one point my brother Craig said: You aren't socializing... and I had to reply, well, I haven't seen some of these people in months...We both understood and time moved on.

But as the days sprinted by I realized that I didn't spend that much time with Carl or Craig. Both were individually busy and after I knew it, I was on the road headed south. The love of music and the occasional "What's up Man" phone calls make my day. So, without fail I say that I miss them, and wish we had more time together...The music keeps us connected and I am glad that they have the ear.

en peace

ambiguous interpretations of obscure vision...

2005-04-19T17:08:00.000-04:00

Mindless Chatter...

Why do women assume and men accuse? Who are you to judge my style, my dress and assume who I am. What is up with stereotypical religous folks. Judgemental Icons such as pastors and self-appointed bishops become finger pointing babies who demand justice in the eyes of the Lord. However, their flock become self-appointed idol worshipers. True indeed they worship the Biblical passages. Idol #1. and often they will worship the ground the pastor walks on...Idol #2. They will format a ritual of offering, tithing and building funds, yet fail to help out the common man when they can. Money would be the Idol in this case. Hmmm, I wonder if we lost the ability to transfer cash and checks, would the offering plate have a swipe machine for debit/credit cards?

Who cares....
Baseball has started, and I just zip right on by. Who cares about baseball. Why are most of the baseball players hispanic or caucasian? What's the deal with the long pants in the summer? What do you do at a baseball game...sit, clap, and wait. boring. But then again...who really cares.

The new Pope...
The new pope was picked today. I watched the announcement today. He's German. I thought that an African Pope would have done the world some justice. What if Minister Louis was announced as pope. The world would stand still, wars would stop. And you could get a bean pie at every street...in the Vatican City.

The weather is quite...
Still. Dull, Scattered Shwers in the North...Sunny and Hot Down south. I hate this place. Full of so many personality conflicts. This place is a baby making center. Argh...I better go.No good

"damn it feels good to see people up on it!"

2005-04-14T17:29:00.000-04:00

The Biz couldn't have said it better. It does feel good to be recognized as a thinker, a contributor and in some cases an important person. People up on it? some may inquire, how does a person get "all up on" another. Simple. Take for instance the scenario that took place this afternoon. I was leaving a meeting on the 6th floor, which is the largest meeting room in the company, and as I exited the room, I recognized "employee Rose". Of course, I am not the type to have an uncomfortable greeting, so I stick to an informal "What's up Man, or how ya doin." depending on their cool factor of course. "Employe Rose" responds..."Hi Ray!". He almost got me with an uppercut. You know I had to play it off. I just smiled and commented on his attire, to change the subject. I knew his name also, but I was surprised that he used my name in our greeting. Ok, so perhaps this is a miniscule matter in the office world...but to me it is a big deal. Employee Rose works for the man, sitting next to the man. That is it. There really aren't to many strings. So to be recognized by the man...well that is a feat in itself. So pardon me for tootin' my own cowbell. Cause this brotha from D loves to see people up on it.

Back in the days of New Jersey the fellas used to call me Money. Not because of my jumpshot, not because of my attire, but because I acted as if I had Cash. My swagger, my ability to chit chat with the opposite race, using jargan and slang equally, depending on the group and situation. It was perfect. But slowly as time moved on...I saw myself gravitating to the Hip-Hop genere. I became a regular user of the infamous "know what I'm sayin' phrase. While in college, I grew into a self-absorbed ego with a campus reputation as "the Man!" Hell yeah, I know, this is a bit boastful...but hang on. Shortly after my graduation...I was on cloud nine. A new job, a new life, and hey I didn't have to stress life...I had two suits, a blazer and a fresh set of clothes. I beat out a frat brother, and a few others for a Sales job in Battle Creek, Michigan. But my swagger didn't float there. I became depressed. My life was taking a downward spiral. I lost my confidence, ran back to MSU to hide and didn't poke my head out until late 1995. I dipped my toe in the water everywhere I went. I explored little territories...and became a cave dweller. I had to break out. 4 years later I found myself at my current job. Successful and hoping I passed the drug test. Since then...I have worked at regaining that swagger. Of course I have it as a crutch...but not deep down inside. Why? Because, I don't see people up on it. Until recently. Strange that a brotha has to cut off his locks of personality in order to achieve. Or perhaps I just identified with a blessing and followed the right path. I wonder how Jesus felt when, he went from People up on it, to people all on him. Similar circumstances...I guess we all must go through a bit of a crusificition in order to really understand our worth. Life is what you make it. Not really about what others think. I realize this now...but damn, it still feels good to see people up on it. Praise God and his many blessings.

En peace.

writer's block, sleep deprivation...

2005-03-30T02:18:00.000-05:00

I crave a blunt. I haven't smoked since October. Ohhh I have a seriious case of writers block. What else can I do but provide you with my thoughts. is it me, or does it seem hard as hell to type lying down on a laptop. Especially one that is connected to the dsl and the plug. my stupid ass left the computer on sleep mode all night. I went to a funeral today. Perhaps that is why I am sleep deprived. This man was a cool laid back hippie type. His wife and son were gunned down about 2 years ago and he gets hit with terminal cancer. Leaving his daughter alone in this world. survived by his parents. Brothers and Sisters but his daugther...alone. what a feeling. It is really sad when you think about how good some of us have it and others...just keep on, despite the drama. I watched THE LIFE OF DAVID GALE the other day. Decent flick, similar tone. Are we all individuals who just think that we can spin the globe without getting dizzy. How come we do not listen to each other. Why do we stomp on the roach without wondering where it came from. Or better yet, without wondering why it is here in the first place. I crave a blunt. I want a new job. I have that itchy feeling to pack up and move out of this 10 year hole. embark on a new task. Hitchhike accross the country. Sleep with Brazilian women. NAh, been there done that... I crave a blunt. So many items floating in my head. I dont want my brother to go to IRAQ. I know he'll come back but how. Scattered thoughts of death and violence. Random halucinations. Body disfigurement? W sucks. I hope he reads published blogs. Stop the war and find a way to get our world correct instead of corrupt. I crave a blunt. I want a new job. I want a new lay. I want a new house. I need a new suit. I have to lose some weight. I guess eating cranberries at 3am will not help matters. I crave a blunt. Blog, blog, blog. BILLY ELLIOT is a stupid movie. I want to eat a greasy burger. with cheese, mayo and lettuce. Waffle house is open...yummy. A 3am burger at wafflehouse...ummmmmmm, nah. All that will do is make me sick. A blunt would have been great right now. My head would swim, my munchies would have kicked in and away I go into the wild blue yonder. Chasing dreams and becoming a split personality. Me myself and I all three of us thinking at one time. All the while trying to accomplish 3 things at one time. It must be tough being god. Father Son and Holy Ghost. Man....I see. If ME, Myself and I are similar to Father Son and Holy Ghost...God must have some killer weed or at least a great since of humour. Why else would he have me typing this blog at 3 am. Maybe I should go to waffle House. or perhaps I should turn on the idoit box and watch sportscenter again. I have a crush on Suzy Kolber. Yi. Sheeee..zesss perty. Linda K. has a camel toe tonight. Um.mmmm I like camel toes... They leave no room for the imagination but open up endless curiosities. You ever see a woman presenting with a camel toe? You lose all interest in the speech. All you can do is wonder, what does it smell like, what does it look like, hairy or smooth, nappy or straight....what causes a woman to wear tight panties, so tight that her vagina is clearly visible. Perhaps it is done on purpose. I crave a cheeseburger with lettuce and tomato, and of course a blunt.

En peace.

primal scream

2005-03-24T04:00:00.000-05:00

deep inside the soul there exists a plan. This plan comes from God and is deeply rooted into the fabric that becomes your skin, your muscle and your nervous system. Ideas surge past your inner conciousness as road signs to success or failure. This eco-system is internal. WE ARE UNIQUE in this manner. With every mistake or redirected journey our soul screams louder and louder. But we ignore it. Heroine Addicts hear the scream as they inject the needle for the first time. Criminals hear the scream along the crooked path. Yet, the same scream becomes so un-recognized when we do good. We follow our "better judgement" and do what is right. The primal scream becomes a saintly whisper. Deep down inside we feel an "urge" to follow our gut. To take a step out on faith. So, the biggest question could be. How do you determine which voice is the most appealing. Sure, the addrenaline rush of Breaking and Entering may be great, but the end result becomes fear. Truth is...Fear and Love are at opposite ends of life's eternal spectrum. Choose your path. Constant confusion is the midpoint of the two. Success becomes the wo/man who finds love more appealing than fear. Healthy fear does live. Skiing down a mountain side. Flying on a hanglider over the favella's of brazil. Fear of God. Resist confusion. Learn to love yourself. Seek love, and learn how to be loved. Stop the scream and embrace the sweet whispers of your soul.

Kids, Don't kiss mommy this morning her mouth is dirty...

2005-02-21T14:28:00.000-05:00

Whoa. What a concept. But every man wants it. A blessing from the angels above. A great mother, but also a great lover. 2 weekends ago one of my boys came into town and we discussed just the basics of marriage. He was in love with his wife because she has been his best friend for life. But...he also suggested that it would be cool if she had just a bit more "Whore" in her pesonality...What? I declare it is true "The consumate MotherWhore syndrome"...how could those words escape out of his mouth, his wife is so cool, kind and loving. But he wasn't stretching the truth. All men want this beauty pagent winner with a clean sexual slate, great bill of health, and body to boot. But when the lights go out we want a deadly beast who craves the taste of our labour of love. Yes ladies, forget about being barefoot and pregnant, most men just want you to remember this word...passion. All men crave it. We want our love visible outside of the house, we want you to earn your independence, we want you to live, party and explore. But we also want you to say it is ok to turn the video tape on and watch some porn. We want you to do the cooking in bed sometimes. Ask for it by name. Order it to go. Crave it and we will provide the rest. But in case you fail to recognize what we need...just look at the title of this blog. Imagine a Sunday morning with coffee served in bed. Breakfast served on a platter...The kids come running into the room after "daddy" hands you the napkin..quickly he plays offensive guard, protecting mom and the bed from attack...and he politely says..."Kids, Don't kiss mommy this morning...her mouth is dirty..." The kids look at the dad with unsure eyes..but he quickly scoops them up and takes them out of the room closes the door behind him and leaves you in peace. After all the coffee should kill all of the germs.

en peace.

My Brother Craig...

2005-02-02T13:39:00.001-05:00

I have 4 siblings..Craig, Carl, Allison and Russell. They were birthed in that order. Russell is a track star for Round Rock HS. He is pretty good and has a chance at the olympics. My Sister, is a student at Hampton U. and is doing rather well with her grades. She has a boyfriend who lives in Louisiana and he has helped our relationship tremendously. She often calls me just to say what up, and often to get advice. Russell rarely calls, but I guess in time we will formulate a relationship. Our distance and 20 year age gap keeps us apart. But when we see each other, it is as if we have been around each other for a lifetime...why not we have. Carl, he's my ace. A genuine brother who is currently living in Boston. He is a student teacher at a local Public School and will be graduating from Harvard this June. He tells it like it is and I love him for his independence. Me, well, I live in the ATL and I rarely get a chance to go home. I have two homes. 1 in Detroit, 1 in Atlanta. I have a vacation home in Austin. That is how I see it. A child of Divorce forces me to choose which house I will visit during holidays. It can be tough at times, but I often make the best of each situation. Come on you may say, what about your Brother Craig.

Ah, The doctor! THE C.E.O. as some of his friends may call him. He is similar to Carl, but a tad bit quieter. Reserved in his opinions and a international business student at THE Eastern Michigan University. He is also an active member of the National Guard. He studies Japanese and loves foreign cars. Why did I title this Blog My Brother Craig? Because of the one thing that he does that I will always remember him for....his prayer at the table. I give up a quick prayer prior to dining, sometimes it is the "Bless this food o' Lord" prayer, or sometimes it is the "God is good" prayer...(hey it is quick and fast...got to give up the praises and thanks.) and on a rare occasion I will meditate on how blessed my family is and how fortuneate I am for having the ability to eat....often that prayer comes up when I am broke. But Craig...he will pray for at least 1min - 2min easy. Head bowed, eyes closed and food growing colder by the minute. I have never asked him what he says. It is his private universal right. But I do give him credit for doing so. How odd...for me to acknowledge one brothers unique ability to be silent in time...oh yeah, don't get it twisted. Craig is a baller, a partier and lives with his Girlfriend...and I am sure that they are far from Lucy and Ricky...if you get my drift. I don't think he attends church on a regular basis. But his connection to the Most High is so peaceful.

Quick Hitter

2005-02-01T13:10:00.000-05:00

I'm alive and kickin, no frontin' no line jumpin just humpin the bump and grind and grinding the bump of her spine. Intertwined with a broken rewind if I keep this up I'm supposed to go blind. Catch my drif, admist a cloud of smoke now I choke from the odd fumes of doom which used to consume my body. Party harty my mates but don't dictate my life with your details of how to find a wife. Quick hitter, noise maker, rolling papers that should be stacked...she's got to go so I can twist my cap.

Rollin' deep, recording slow, working hard always on the go. Rhyming pays only in blogger days but my mind compares riddles to a modern school daze. But Lee was no General but a racist pig, you figure out his role and I'll provide you with a surrrogate pig. I work, I sleep, I dream and I eat...I run but I don't cry...my head fills with drama and I keep staking it sky high...Quick hitter, noise maker, rolling dollars that should be jacked...you have to go so I can lean back.

Storm alert, ice on its way, trembling with the fear that today's the day, am I right with God, or is he cool with me. Triggers on saftey but my mentality is not focused on 3. Just he, the maker the shaker and the Tsunami maker. Oh how big the world seems when the event is overshadowed by the creator. Make it in time, deliver the product but keep it sublime, hidden message sex sells, the world is corrupt so how do we excell. To err is human but I am just a...Quick Hitter, noise maker, rolling rhythms and will one day meet my maker...twist the cap, lean back...I aint ready to go, I aint ready to go.
So I blow...blow away the pain, So I blow, blow away the rain and ice that clog my vision. A break a time away, a perfect mission to get right, to get right with he that made me in his perfect image.

Quick hitter, noise maker, rolling visions and dreams of catered dinners and dubs on cadilacs, twist the cap and lean back...lean back and feel the sun, fell the sun, feel the sunnnnnn..

_En Peace.

eve of revival

2005-01-16T21:58:00.000-05:00

Who was it?
What was it?
Where did it all begin?

My mind is complex so it has to end. The thoughts of delusion aren't filled with grandeur, just consumption of eruptive implosion. My mind state does not equate the systemic base of my fate. The times are often caught in debate. Pause. Rebirth. The wind blows while the crow flows in a harmony of decay. Picture my delay. Refusal to obey my master. Following the spiritual death of self-indulgence and 7 deadly menu entrées. Pause. Rebirth. Issues of sex, obsession, hoarding, loathing, jealousy, second-guessing and lack of control has plagued my soul. Angles were watching over me but the skies turned grey. This can't be Ray. So, think again...where did it all begin, who what why and when. That was then? and now here I am? Circle 360 degrees minus 365 days. Caught in a negative spiral. Pause. this is it. I'm coming...oh the pleasure of a five minute self absorbed greasy relief..whatever it may be. Ahhh Gluttony the sweetest sin...temptation give in. But then again there is Lust, the awww what the fuck...fuck. Wrath has never been my thing, unless revenge is the motivation. Lack of energy comes from apathetic deliberation. Pause. Rebirth. Where's the song about Ballin' BigTima's the clever rhymers never come close to the Ladies with bags so creatively put by Badu. I'm through. Times a wasting. Bellies grown bigger. Some white man's callin' me a nigger...ignoring the fact that we are both Native Americans...cause the "Indian" sure aint American. PAUSE...Rebirth.

Who was it?
What was it?
Where did it all begin?

DP! Nupe, Nupe...Mutha$@#$er!!!

2005-01-10T16:37:00.000-05:00

1 day late 9 dollars and eleven cent and 1 hour short...

What up Nupes! it has been a while...but I am glad to see y'all doin swell.
I'm movin' to cali...(not seriously...but one day...one day...)

I read Kris' email yesterday and got a Call from Mo-Tisle..then hit up Mike Hearn...Founders Day is always a royal event...but for you Noble men who have been seriously blessed...let me remind you of the past.

The times were dark and the dollars were short way back when. The chicks were blazin & the punch had you buzzin from 9 til 2am. We lived foul but drank well, in school we excelled and the party didn't start till we stomped in.

Remember then, that moment when the shiver ran up your spine, stench of Rossi wine and bros ached in line from the wood that splintered in the night. Your personal, who was tipsy, fingers still greasy made you take round after round of make me right? Your sands was your LB or Scroller #3 and the egg was headed your way. All the while you was pleadin take that beatin' cuz this shit is really gay. Ok! so that was back then, a memory of when the times were hard and the funds were low...now on with the show.

We stepped with Canes, and pulled dem dames, so easily I suppose. We toiled and strove and played dominoes with some pretty ladies and the occasional fat hoes. Time stood still on Hagadorn, Harrison and in the Spartan Vil...Nupes were on top, Red marked the spot and the parties/events were always hot...droppin it never...don't stop, don't stop...but still I can recall through the midst of it all a time of true unity. A bonding of minds lasting beyond our times between you and me.

We are the Nupes of the mighty DP...Phi Nu Pi, men of Kappa Alpha Psi historic legacy. May the dream live on, and we live strong in the days of old til the break of dawn. Sho'l nuf funky that Phi Nu Pi...sho'l nuf funky...throw that diamond in the sky and say "Yo!" holla at ya bro!

Where'd this come from...

2005-01-08T11:51:00.000-05:00

I never really thought about it until recently. The thought has run across my mind often, but I never really gave it second thought. So when the reality set in, I took one long break and wondered...Where'd this come from? In the "Wake" of the Tsunami Disaster and the major snowstorms that have trekked across the contiguous 48, I have been looking at life in a new light. Snap! 20 secs the water rises in your house, 40 secs the water is waist high, 60 secs all the doors and windows are breaking and a massive gush of water crashes into your bedroom...in 1:30 sec you are forced to inhale salt water and in 2 mins...flatline. Life is over. The death toll for the Tsunami has reached close to 150,000 dead. 2000 americans are still considered missing and presumed dead. Keep in mind that 911's death toll was 3,500.

Reggie White hung up the phone, watched a bit of late night TV, ate a bit of Ben & Jerry's. Discussed the New Years Day Party plans. While his wife soaked the black-eyed peas for the Midweek, post Christmas stew. He took a knee and crawled into bed. Somewhere between 12:30pm and 6:30am, his throat began to close gradually each hour as air was being forced down his throat, and not to through the nose. His brain shut down and The Greatest Lineman to ever play for the Eagles/Packers was Running for the end-zone...Up yonder.

Last night Kobe Bryant, Traci McGrady and a few other NBA stars prepared to donate $1000 per point to the Tsunami Victims in Asia/Africa. The points/dollar total was close to 2 million dollars. (of which the NBA donated 1 million, 500 thousand). Sandra Bullock of Silver screen fame coughed up a generous $1 mil and Tatsumi the great donated close to 480K which is at least 1/2 of his yearly salary to play for the major league baseball assocication. So, now I ask myself, where did all of this come from.

How do we become so generous during times of crisis and danger, but the minute times are at the status quo, we just lean away from our giving hearts. I wish I had $1 mil to donate. Or were able to do a point for point talley from basketball. But hey after all we are only humans....

En PEace

2005 STATE OF THE BLACK MAN

2005-01-04T16:52:00.000-05:00

Joke: How do you make a black man run away and a Mexican run to you? Hold up a Help wanted sign.

Horrible joke. but it tells the tale of our current situation. Black men are under attack. Silent killers within the media, the government and yes even in our school systems have placed stereotypical icons in our new millennium mindsets. These icons are of gangstas and gays. Gone are the days of businessmen and hard workers, gone are the echoes of slavery and oppression. We have made it to the equal rights era. We are all equal, no longer are we the minority, in fact try it...hold up a help wanted sign...and watch who'll come running. 1905 a black man with a family of four would have jumped at $5.00 and hour and become a millionaire within 4-5 years. Without providing hook-ups and hand me downs. But our gangstas and grim reefers are dropping it like its hot in order to make a buck. Just like the Blackfaced idiots used to do around the turn of the 20th century. Sure we have our secrets, we love to keep it crunk in the club. But our motto, "What goes on in the cut, stays in the cut" is now the theme for Las Vegas. Paris Hilton has become the "sistah girl" and has been accepted in the hip-hop community. Now it is ok for her to reference black men as "that's my niggah" or "he's a dumb niggah" (disclaimer: that's N, i, double g, plus ah, not to be confused with nigger.) Black men where are you? How can you stand for this shit. Damn, I was blind...and now I see. Y2k shook our mental states. Money is tight, bush is back in office (note the lowercase) and our Prison rates are higher. I wonder if Puffy knew that Vote or Die meant, vote for the Judge who will send our black-asses to jail by voting democratic. I wonder if the same rumors about he and half of the Hip-Hop community having orgies and duck sick parties are true. I would say no. But where is NAACP when we have an outright GAY blackman keepin' it real and representing the "real world" on TV? Maybe that is why brotha Kwesi decided to take a break...get out of the NAACP, meanwhile his son continues to produce music vid-i-hoes. I am the same brotha who just sent a email to one of my boys of a Naked Black woman. I am sure that she loves company, and enjoys a nice bottle of Crystal or Moet in order to get her in the mood. But does that make me lesser of a Black man to enjoy the vision of a Beautiful Black Woman...Sure does. I see, The state of the Blackman is not only our plight, it is our races obligation. The way I see it we are 10-15 years away from extinction...or better yet....Are our inner cities just economic plantations/reservations? I wonder why Native Americans have Casinos on their reservations...in fact, why are so many cities featuring legalized gambling? Oh snap! We are under attack...by the way I just won my Fantasy Football pool...no need to give me props...I took all of their money in one big swoop. Just like the crap games in college...oh but that is under the table...lets keep that on the DL...no, not the DL, how about we keep that between me and you....no, I can't keep secrets anymore because that wouldn't be honest...I have to represent for the 10% of us niggah's who aint on the DL, droppin' it like its hot, pimpin' our community holding Moet parties with Radio-One. ($150 VIP around back) Who can stand it. Being black is fun. I love it. I can get the hook-up for anything, anywhere...sure I can even get you a Plasma screen for the "low, low" just be sure to hollar at me when you get your next check. My boy has the hook up on the DVD's and CD's too.

Black is beautiful, Black is Powerful, Are we black enough for ya...is what we screamed during our sit-in at the MSU administration building. We fought for our rights. Black American Youth, we had power, we had solidarity and we were the future...15 years later, most of us are driving foreign vehicles, in our $200, 000 homes, hoping to raise our children without a vision of our current state of affairs. No TV for you tonight little Grayson. That is rated TV-M and you can't watch that show. What am I saying...how do we know what is on TV? We just focus on the subject at hand...$$$$$$$$$$$. What am I going to get her for her Birthday, What do the kids need for Christmas, How are we going to get by without School Clothes, I need a new suit and shoes for next weeks party...The State of the Black Man. Some of us are better off dead. Some of us are walking dead. Some of us are dead as a doornail...but the majority of us are just simply dead wrong.

for example look at this email that I received today regarding S. Williams (note it is a hoax but who writes this shit?)
Russ Parr interview with Serena Williams
______________

Ms. Williams we are all interested in your new boyfriend.

-There is no new boyfriend. I stopped playing with boys when I stopped dating black guys. I have a new man in my life and yes, he's white.

So you prefer to date white men instead of black guys?

-Let's be real. If you are a successful black female you only have two choices....date outside of your race or date other successful black females.

Are you saying there are no successful black men to date?

- Of course not but lets face it, if Oprah would date outside of her race she would be married with children now. The state of most black men is so low the only thing you can do is love them. Like a poor homeless dog.
You can't expect it to protect you. You can only offer shelter and love and watch as our neighbor's pitbull protects his home and family. I, unlike Oprah, am not forced to stay within those boundaries. I was born into a new generation of black women.

So Oprah is being forced to date Stedman?

- All I can say is when you find a successful black women who is not married and does not have children it is because they refuse to accept the two choices. Some may go as far as marriage to a black guy but they realize divorce is inevitable so they do not have children. Or they have children with one and don't marry in order to preserve their wealth and good credit.
Oprah is one of many who silently protests being stuck with such poor choices by refusing to marry and reproduce but you can see how much it hurts her. She's always giving away money to children's charities. I hope she makes the choice to marry a non-black soon so she can have a child of her own.

But you have decided to accept the two choices?

- Yes. I grew up in California around the two extremes of wealth. If I could only get myself to try the bisexual thing I would have been much happier in my relationships. Instead I dated black men. I loved many of them but they were just not suitable for marriage. Many of them were raised by women and had warped mentalities. So I finally had to date outside my race. When I moved to Miami, I accepted my status and dated men on my level.

What do you mean by warped mentalities?

- Well, where do I begin? Many of them were raised predominantly by women and had this feminine/bisexual complex. Where they wanted to be treated like a female sometimes. For example, I would have the money & they would have the sex. I would teach them things. You know, all the things a woman likes a man to do, I would end up doing for them. Then if we would get into an argument, there would be a role reversal. All of a sudden, they would be the man wanting the respect of a king in his castle. Black men over the years have become less and less of value to black women both rich and poor. I predict in 10 years they will be obsolete. Now they serve little to no function and what little they can do, they don't want to do.

Why 10 years?

- That's when going to a fertility clinic to get impregnated by a sperm donor will become as common and accessible as the flu shot. Women who want sex will do it with whoever they want ( girl, guy, rich, poor, white,black) and go to the bank (the sperm bank) when they are ready to have children. Even those who waited (like Oprah) will have fertilized eggs placed in Vitro. That's the day the secret organization of women is waiting for. The day when men are 100% dis-empowered.

Are you apart of that organization?

- No. They're a mostly white group. Plus that day for black men is practically here already. Black women are already raising 75% of the black population without a man. When fertility clinics become more affordable.
Black women will be standing in line. It will be just like plastic surgery.
Everyone laughed at Michael Jackson but its becoming so popular now, that even poor blacks are getting work done...mostly breast reductions and liposuction.

So do you want men to be dis-empowered?

- Heck, no! That's why I am with a white man now. I want a man to be a man and I am not going to settle for less just to stay within racial boundaries.
A Black man in my position wouldn't do it so why should I. Don't get me wrong, I love black men. My father is black, I have dated black men all my life, and if I have a male child he will be part black. But my husband and I will raise him together so hopefully he will be a worthy choice for a worthy black female. Not the only choice, or "there's nothing better out there so I'll settle for this" choice. When you are successful you want the best. The best food, clothes, places to live etc. I want the best man also.

And you think the best man is a non-black man?

- I think if there's a better choice for me, God would have shown me. I am in the public so I get to meet lots of people from all over the world athletes, celebs etc.I am wealthy so I am invited and have traveled to the most prestigious events all over the world. Out of all those people, places and events....I had to choose the right man for me. Like it or not with very few exceptions) a white man is the only real choice for a successful black female.
-------
Tiger Woods: Married to the Mob, OJ and Michael: Married to the Mob, Bill Cosby: Money from the Mob...Who releases Fat Albert in the 21st century and then complains about our race in the same breath...Hey, Hey, Hey...I-mba, gonna det dat dough. Oprah: Complainin' Mobsta....get the picture. The rich get rich while the poor get the door. But please keep donating money to the HBCU's HARPOON. I see Tom Joyner wants to join the gang...blackfaced AM shows on the radio..."Y'all rememba when we used to reach in the jar and grab dem pig feets?" What the hell are we dooing. Spike where are you man...Whoops he's courtside making movies with guess who: The Mob.

En peace.

generation snap

2004-12-19T18:57:00.000-05:00

Friday after school was a time for my father and I to bond. Usually he would pick me up after work over at my caretakers home and we would hit the fastfood restaurant of my choice. Hardees was the most logical, it was close to his apartment, and they had the Hardees town toys. Each meal provided a small town that made up a larger town that I stored at my grandparents home. I would eat my fries first, nibble at the buger while tenderly tearing the town out of its Hardee's Meal box. I would sip down the softdrink slowly, and save a little to wash down my burger. Of course my meal wasn't complete without chewing on the straw. My dad hated that habit. We would finish up at Hardees, hop in the car and drive to my second home in the Hi-rise. I enjoyed my weekends with my dad but this apartment was such a dreary place. Usually, we would sit down, watch TV , eat ice cream and I would pass-out on the couch and wake up on Saturday in the bed. I would run erands with him all weekend, and eventually be dropped off at home the following morning for church. That was the routine.
One weekend, My mom insisted that he drop me off at church instead of at home. This meant that I had to bring my dress clothes and shoes with me for the weekend. It rained that weekend...I dropped my Dress clothes in a puddle of rain, and boy did I ever get a mouthfull...All of his stress from work, the divorce and who knows what came out at me...it was the most difficult memory that I can remember. I was in shear shock...I trembled in fear...what would happen to me I thought. After he calmed down, he gave me a choice. Get the spanking or do some work...(Now come on....what would you choose?) So, I did the work...Which made him even more upset, but he put together a punishment: Writing I will not drop my clothes 4000 times, and I had to trace his handwritting. I had to miss church that weekend which put me in a difficult position. Will my Mom be upset with me because I dropped my clothes? Of course not, it was a simple mistake she said, I just have to be more careful next time...

This past friday I had my usual practice schedule, Pick up my cousin from his mother's job, drive to basketball practice. Coach for 2 hours, grab some fast food and kickback watch the TV and fall asleep. My cousin stays the night with me so that he can play in the Rec Leagues on Saturday. He also plays on my team. We had a tough practice on Friday, and Saturdays Game didn't result in a win. I was depressed, needed a drink and was fortunate that I had friends who were feeling my down spirits and they boosted my morale with jokes, "look at the bright side" speeches etc. But no matter what, the Saturday was just another hole in my soul. You see losses on the court due to agressive and well coached teams do not concern me. Bad losses based on turnovers and lazy defense will have result in a poor evening for ray.

I celebrate my victories with a quiet dinner at Thaicoon, my local sushi spot. I review in my mind what we did to achieve and what we can do to become better. But often I think about those nights in Detroit. The times when my Dad wouldn't come to the babysitters and pick me up. The over the top bitter arguments that my dad would bellow out when you simply are being a child. Then I compare myself...Coach Ray..to the OG Bobby Sams. Tempers are similar. Lifestyle the same. Drama breeds yelling and longwinded whining. I learned this lesson recently and it has changed my life. Snap. just like that. A generation of suppressed childhood drama was passing before my eyes. My cousin JD was a witness. The details I can't reveal, but overall, I realized what being a man was. No, it wasn't proving yourself during stress. It is all about your word, your respect and how well you relate to others. I had a whole team of kids who reflected my own interpersonal drama. (Heavy shit...) I responded with yelling and screaming massive suicides and running...(Deep!) Meanwhile, I pointed the finger at them...as most coaches would. But that is the OG Bobby Sams. not me. I should have befriended these cats. Pushed them with intellect...(Here's the part of the story where I get you.)...yet Proverbs 4:2 will tell you how bad I have been slippin.

So in the new year, no more OG Bobby Sams...I let him be Daddy. I am Ray Sams...That mellow coach who gets the message across with kindness and wisdom...afterall, that will carry you further than a shouting match.

HAPPINESS IS...

2004-12-10T11:31:00.000-05:00

Closing out the year, what can I say...this has been a wild rollercoaster ride from the depths of the unknown to the peaks of Tahoe back to the depths of the unknown. Life is truly a cycle and to be free of dependants, crutches and hardship my only way to close out the year is to provide my Happiness List:

Happiness is:

Rolling out of bed on a Saturday morning, turning off Sportscenter and jumping back in bed for a few more hours.

Playing golf in the warm Georgia Rain and scoring a low game.

Catching the eye of a beautiful woman and greeting her with a smile.

Walking. No destination, No Location, just walking outside.

Stepping out of the shower, looking in the mirror and not frowning at what I see.

A 6am coffee with cream and sugar.

Ashanti, Beyonce, Vivica and Alicia Keys.

No work in the cue, and actually enjoying my time off.

Reading email replies from old and new friends.

Seafood w/ butter and mash potatoes.

2nd round of sex... "I can't take no more..."

80 minutes of uninterupted well mixed music.

Driving in a White Land Rover.

Getting Praise from others.

Watching Children play.

Phone calls from strangers and loved ones...without obligation.

Having a woman in bed to fall asleep with.

Waking up with a woman in bed.

Drawing, Painting, Creating without obligation.

A good joke. Laughter and smiles.

Wiping away a few tears...

A stiff drink after a long day.

Getting the number from a beautiful woman, who chose me.

Talking to God.

Hearing a Church Choir sing.

Watching a child understand a lesson.

Closing a great deal.

"Never been here but Like it!"

Lion Hearts!

2004-12-04T10:29:00.000-05:00

The Lion in my chest digs deep into my soul.
The Lion is my heart and it beats out of control.

I found my love and I love my art, yet the source of my joy has
torn my life apart. Work hard = hardly living. But living at work no one envies.

This Lion is my love for music, animation and movies. My soul screams for freedom, religion mixed with ecstasy, (the feeling not the drug). Freedom of oppression, responsibility and debt, yet the white rover has me feeling better than I have ever felt no doubt the secret is best kept. Rolling with faith not vision.

The Lion in my chest digs deep into my soul.
The Lion is my heart and it beats out of control.

I ramble on and on, till my teeth start to chatter. Items have me vexed because of the mindless music and worthless excuses that are meaningless without work. Aren't the fortunate the ones who build monuments of nothingness? While those who struggle become Scattered, smothered and covered...working for 7.oo and hour. Whistle while you twerk, curse out the jerk, rockin' gold teeth and seafood platters. I am a Lion and these folks are cheetahs or are they alley cats. Oh my God, tell me am I on the fence of poverty and oppression or am I on the outside looking in at a FEMA experiment. Wise up. Straighten up and fly right into the night with wings of a dove, drug free like Barry B. or is he. Clean and Cream suggest that we live a fallacy. Struggle in life becomes misery. But, soulless identity is not me. Can't you see, I want it all for me and my unplanned family...this is my ecstasy. Not the sexual exploitation of the females exhale but the expression of Love between male and female. This beat is deep. But the mind rarely sleeps. Dreaming of a jungle that is filled with concrete.

The Lion in my chest digs deep into my soul.
The Lion is my heart and it beats out of control.

This is not a test. Live and uncovered rated M for Molestation. Evil invades our streets entertainment and erogenous zones. The world is not ready for a witness. Platelets of states enjoy life as victims is what the govt suggests. Slavery continues Mental, Physical and Sexual...Education becomes second best. Meanwhile we swipe our slave badges of salary in the hopes to achieve the American Dream. or is it a Nightmare:

The night slipped deep into the darkness, the closed doors slowly opened, exposing a child sleeping a silent bliss. The fog crept over the bed of woven delights invading the sweet odor and enveloped the room with the stale stench of evil. Alcoholic abuse exhales cigarette clouds of demons, Angelic armies attack. The battle was in the mind of the beast, while the child slept innocent to the many victories and defeats. Oh the cries of the heavens and the cheers of sulfur. The chime of the harps and horns brought forth the Lion of Judah. Victory is ours...But that was the dream of the adult...the child dreamt of cotton jeans and pleasant smiles. When she awoke, her bed was filled with red feathers.
The feathers of the fallen angels both evil and angelic.

The Lion in my chest digs deep into my soul.
The Lion is my heart and it beats out of control.

Life is not short it moves on. The Lion Hearted must continue to stay strong. Be not afraid to conquer new lands, ideas or strange state of affairs. For the Angles roll into evil territories and their memories are never turned into mini-series. They are just bad ideas or strange urges. Bend back, or like Joe, lean back close your eyes and thank the squadron of angelic wisdom. Let the Lion become your voice, your heart and your soul.

The Lion in your chest now has control. Iron, Lion, Zion...Trinities soul patrol.

Remix this and you will see the true potential.
Read it once and fall victim to the demise of your predatory sense.

En Faith.

Young Gunz

2004-11-30T11:20:00.000-05:00

The young guns have no future,
the young guns have no use.

The old school starts the rage
While the new establishes the fruit.
The trees are ripped yet continue to bear leaves.
The weeds continue to grow, while the pesticides invade the seeds.
Make matters better, formulate a plan.
Investigate my youth culture and see the master's hand.
The hand at work, whippin' up a serious dish.

The young guns have no future
the young guns have no fear.

She has a point, why wait. He has a beef why debate.
Riches are spent, dimes are smoked, education is a waste
Up with dope down with hope. These are our cries. our nightmares
our worst dreams. We need leadership, not charitable donations to MLK's dream.
War is in our backyards, in our homes and in our brains.
The battlefield is invisible and the enemy is insane. One look in the mirror
and our souls may be the blame.

The young guns are our future.
We shall have no fear.

Weap not godmother, shed tears no more.
Brotha's gonna work it out. we will reach that golden shore.
The days of old are our guides, and time has reached its end.
The cycle begins when the in see the end.
Chosen ones we are. So precious are the days. Ignorance can be our disguise
while the lonely ones stand in a daze. Be strong. Wise up. This world is ours,
America the strong...Africans unite.

The young guns are our future. We stand tall.
Communication & Education is the Priority for us all.

State of the Urban Union - My Boo. Hoo, Who?

2004-11-28T11:56:00.000-05:00

State of the Urban Union

Thanksgiving weekend 2004 prepares the nation for GWB part II, increased security in the homeland, border patrol and in our National Basketball Association arenas. Our turkeys were fried, baked, smoked and “Organic”, the dressing was full of carbs and our Politicians were once again out with the homeless. Where was I, Brookhaven, GA, home of Oglethorpe university and the ABC Package Store. I was waiting, in my SUV, listening to Hot 107.9 Atlanta’s Hip Hop Voice. My frat brother went in to get a bottle of cognac and a small bottle of Apple pucker to make the Holiday Season festive and bright. It took him a while to stroll out of the store, so I was forced to study the advertisements that scattered the outside of the Middle Eastern Owned establishment. All of the Ads in the dusty neon windows targeted the African American audience. I thought it was a bit odd that a package store in Brookhaven, ( a small community northeast of Atlanta’s popular Buckhead shopping/club district with an estimated population of 10k. 5% of that total representing the African American voice), would target my people. But hey why trip, it was thanksgiving eve.

The next morning, I was awakend by a co-worker who was calling in sick, so I was forced to work hungover on Thanksgiving. I showered, grabbed an apple a few magazines and was off to work. This time I drove in with V103 Atlanta’s self proclaimed “People Station”. Once behind my desk at work, I tuned into netmusique.com’s housemusiqe channel and got down to business. I was in to a great working groove and managed to get quite a bit of work accomplished. Periodically, flashes of the ABC Package Store entered my mind. I stopped working, drank some water, reclined for a minute and thought about the images and sounds from the night before. The music chimed into my mind rather quickly…”drop it like it’s hot” by snoop dogg, the image of a Basketball Player dunking a basketball, with Budweiser written along side of the vertical photo. All merged into one big Palace vs Pacers basketbrawl scene... There wasn’t a magical connection between the three, but strange enough It brought me to a crystal clear observation. African American Youth is being led down a path of destruction.

Thursday evening outside of the Liquor store I heard the following lyrics:

When the pimp's in the crib ma
Drop it like it's hot
Drop it like it's hot
Drop it like it's hot
When the pigs try to get at ya
Park it like it's hot
Park it like it's hot
Park it like it's hot
And if a nigga get a attitude
Pop it like it's hot
Pop it like it's hot
Pop it like it's hot
I got the rolly on my arm and I'm pouring Sean Don
And I roll the best weed cause I got it going on.

And on the way to work I heard the following:

Shorty Wanna Ride With Me, Ride With Me
Shorty Wanna Ride With Me, Ride With Me
Oh You Aint Never Been To The Dirty, Dirty Before?
Shorty Wanna Ride With Me, Ride With Me
C'mon Ride With Young Buck

Shorty Wanna Ride With Me, Ride With Me
We Can Get Low, Hop Into The Chevy 4 Door
Blow Dro, Wanna Ride With Me, Ride With Me
Let Ya Hair Down, You Said You Wanna Thug
Don't Be Scared Now
Shorty Wanna Ride With Me, Ride With Me
We Can Get Low, Hop Into The Chevy 4 Door
Blow Dro, Wanna Ride With Me, Ride With Me
Let Ya Hair Down, You Said You Wanna Thug
Don't Be Scared Now
Shorty Wanna Ride With Me, Ride With Me

My 24's Spinnin', The Sticker's Still On 'Em
The Same Ol' Hoes, But A Nigga Still Want 'Em
I'm Parkin Lot Pimpin' On Another Nigga Woman
She Pullin Up Her Skirt, Tryin Show A Nigga Sumthin
Ya' Car Cloudy, My Niggas All Rowdy
This Heinesy Got A Nigga Drowsy, I'm Outty
Now Where Them Hoes At, Look I'm Tryin To Take You Home
So What'cha Got Ya Girlfriends, Bitch Bring 'Em On
Hoe I'm Tryin To Break A Bone, When I Get In Them Draw's
To The Window, To The Muthafuckin Walls
What A Nigga Don't Know Wont Hurt Him'
If Ya' Got A Old Man, Bitch I Ain't Worried
And I Got Plenty Room If Ya Think You Wanna Roll
See This Is What They Make Caddillac Trucks For
Let's Go To A Place You Ain't Never Been, Down In The Country
I Bet Ya, I Have Ya Sayin' Ya Love Me

I thought about my Aunt Linda's comment about Ray Charles. "There was a few songs that they didn't play on the Radio from Ray Charles cuz it was to raw...but now they will play just about anything." I told her that if she actually heard the explicit version she would cringe. Why do I wish to point out such lyrics, especially during this phase of my life? It beats me, but the meaning becomes crystal clear when you read the lyrics instead of hearing them mixed with the beat. For the record, I am still the same cat who Hosted a high rated Hip Hop show for 5 years and played these lyrics for my mentor Oliver Harrington (famous political cartoonist/activist):

I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times side
Staying alive was no jive
At second hands, moms bounced on old men
So then we moved to Shaolin land
A young youth, yo rockin the gold tooth, 'Lo goose
Only way, I begin to gee off was drug loot
And let's start it like this son, rollin with this one
And that one, pullin out gats for fun
But it was just a dream for the teen, who was a fiend
Started smokin woolies at sixteen
And running up in gates, and doing hits for high stakes
Making my way on fire escapes
No question I would speed, for cracks and weed
The combination made my eyes bleed
No question I would flow off, and try to get the dough all
Sticking up white boys in ball courts
My life got no better, same damn 'Lo sweater
Times is ruff and tuff like leather
Figured out I went the wrong route
So I got with a sick ass click and went all out
Catchin keys from across seas
Rollin in MPV's, every week we made forty G's
Yo nigga respect mine, or anger the tech nine
Ch-chick-POW! Move from the gate now

[Chorus: Method Man]

Cash, Rules, Everything, Around, Me
C.R.E.A.M.
Get the money
Dollar, dollar bill y'all

Hey, I wore the Dew Rags, I smoked the dro, and I even did a crip walk in the mirror. I am no prude. In fact I do not fear the backlash that this blog will create. But what I do see is my little brother’s and sister’s going down a road that I fear they will not be able to return. Here’s my train of thought. When I first heard Hip-Hop it represented the American Dream, two turntables a piece of cardboard and a “box.” The rhymes were wholesome and empowering, especially if you recited them daily for example:

Try to answer to the master on the MC rap artists
No joke on the lyric -it's hard to be modest
I knew I was the man with the master plan
To make you wiggle and jiggle like gelatin
Just think while I sing and to the brain structure
Don't sleep on the E -- 'ya see, something might rupture
I don't take time for me to blow your mind
It takes a second to wreck it because you're dumb and blind
So just lounge . . . 'Cause you're a MC clown
Or join the circus . . . EPMD's in town

Total chaos -- no mass confusion
Rhymes so hypnotizing known to cause an illusion
Like a magician who draws a rabbit out a hat, son
I'm drawin' more, like a 44-Magnum
MC's please stop, look, and listen and try to imagine
it's travellin' the speed of lighjt, but everything' motion it's frightening
Plus the thought of you alone
You now enter the dimension called the Twilight Zone
You're terrified . . . plus you can't bear the thought
You and I one-on-one in the land of the lost
You start to shiver . . . then you scream, my friend
You wake up, Muttley, because you're dreamin' again
Next time I'm on the scene . . . do not try to diss us
Keep your mouth suckered up, because I'm Strictly Business

This is the rap season . . . when the E starts pleasin'
Girls around the world no need to be skeezin'
When I roll I stroll, Cool always pack a 2
Just in case . . . a brother acts a fool
I've got the energy to put the girlz in a frenzy
Put a shock when I rock even though I'm not stingy
Make sure I don't bore when I'm on the dance floor . . .
Get busy, boy . . . like you never saw before
Rhyme flow . . . good to go . . .
After the show . . . I'll pull your hoe, boy
"Do you sniff blow??" -- Hell no
Got my whole life ahead of me, no time to be sniffin'
And if my parents find out, then they start riffin'
So I stay, A-OK
'Cause I'm the E . . . the R-I-C-K

MC's look me in the face and their eyes get weak
Pulse rate descends . . . heart rate increases
It's like beam me up, scotty, I control your body
I'm as deadly as AIDS when it's time to rock a party
With all due respect, when I say mike check
I let a sucker slide once . . . then I break his neck
So when I say jump, you'll reply "How high?"
Because I'm takin' no prisoners, so don't play hero and die
You're just a soldier . . . and I'm a Green Beret
I do not think twice about the MCs I slay
So if you want to battle, i highly recommend this:
Bring your dog, mom, and dad . . . because I'm Strictly Business

Yo, yo, you're still pickin' on that four-leaf clover?
Bring in the sandman, sucker . . . because it's over
My name is Eric Sermon and I'm back again
I see the head's still turnin' of my so-called friends
They smile in my face -- behind my back they talk trash,
Mad and stuff - because they don't have cash
Like the E-Double . . . or the Pee-MD
He drives a Corvette, I drive a semi-iroc Suzuki
I'm the locksmith . . . with the key to fame
Never high on myself, always stay the same
Play a lot because I'm hot and like a horse I trot
Around the track and back, fatigued?? No, I'm not

I'm the mellow, the fellow, the one that likes to say hello
To a fly girl that is good to go
With the slow tempo and the off-beat rhyme flow
'Cause when I am in action, there is no time for maxin' or relaxin
Just reactin' and subtractin'
On a sucker MC who's mouth keeps on yappin' and flappin'
I lose my cool, then I'll be start slappin' and smackin'
You on a roll, then I'll be start jackin' and cappin'
No time to lounge, I'm packin' and strappin'
At my point attack I soar at you like an eagle,
I'm the sheriff, and bitin' is illegal
So next time in town, I highly recommend this,
You gots to chill, because I'm Strictly Business

Business. Music was indeed about the business of having fun, but being able to express how clever you were. The rhyme flow was our emancipation from the chains of the hood and way to express your inner most desires and dreams. Historically we crushed our way through Rodney King, Ronald Regan, George Bush and the countless numbers of gang wars, drug wars and foreign soil wars only to land back in the BUSH with this:

[Hook]
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my cuz that's my

[Lil Wayne]
Murder one on one, the hottest nigga under the sun
I come from under the tummy, bustin a tommy
Or come from under your garments, yo chest and your arm hit
Pow, one to the head now you know he dead
Now you know I play it, like a pro in the game
Naw better yet a veteran a hall of fame
I got that medicine, I'm better than all the names
Ay its Cash Money Records man a lawless gang
Put some water on the track, Fresh for all his frame
Wear a helmet when you bang it man and guard yo brain
Cuz the flow is spasmatic what they call insane
That aint even a muthafuckin aim I get dough boy
And you already know that pimpin
18 how I'm livin young'n show that Bentley
Stunna my Pa so you know that's in me
Gotti my mentor so don't go there wit me

[Hook]
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my cuz that's my

[Hook]
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my cuz that's my

[Lil Wayne]
And I move like the Coupe thru traffic
Rush hour GT Bent' roof is absent
Ya bitch present wit the music blastin
And she keep askin how it shoot if its plastic
I tell her you see if ya boy run up, she said back and cut the Carter back
up, oh fa sho
Ay Big Mike they betta step thangs its already up
Before they step to a sergeant's son, I got army guns
You niggas never harmin young, fly wizzy my opponents done, I'm done talking
And I aint just begun, I been runnin my city like Diddy ya chump
I fly by ya in a foreign whip, on the throttle wit a model bony bitch
Paraphony tips, her hair is long and shit, to her thong and shit
Well here we go so hold on to this, uh lets go

[Lil Wayne talking]
Hold on let me hit the blunt
So go, so go
This is the, this is the, this is the
This is the, this is the, this is the
This is the Carter

[Hook]
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my cuz that's my

[Lil Wayne]
Birdman put them niggas in a trash can
Leave em outside of your door I'm your trash man
I'm steady lightin another hash and ridin in my jag
You will need a gas mask man
You snakes, stop hidin in the grass
Sooner or later I'll cut it knock the blades in yo ass
You homo niggas getting Aids in the ass
While the homie here tryna get paid in advance
I'm stayin on my grizzy I'ma bonafide hustler
Play me or play wit me then I'm goin find your mother
Niggas wanna eat cuz they aint ate nothin
But niggas wanna leave when you say you out of mustard
So I'ma walk into the restaurant alone, leavin out
Leavin behind just residue and bones
In your residents with Rugers to your dome
Like where the fuck you holdin the coke, holdin your throat, choke

This, this, this, this, this, this, this, this, this, this, this, this, this
This is the Carter

[Hook]
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go DJ, cuz that's my cuz that's my

Go DJ, DJ, DJ

Seriously folks, our youth now dreams of death and destruction. Our Xbox/PS2 games teach our youth the value of death…Killing = no more worries. This is my interpretation of the perfect Hip-Hop formula:
Sampled Beat + Criminal Lyrics – Truth / hope = success. The 80's was filled with dance songs that helped us love and learn to love ourselves, the 90's kept us aware and in touch with our communities, Y2K has transformed our culture into a Sex, drugs and money environment. Where we can Pimp our rides, show off our cribs, confess our sins to Dr. Phil and be tried by Judge Hatchett all in a matter of Hours...once done returning to our Desperate Housewives and re-run the Sex-in the City. But have no fear...Creflo Dollar comes on in the morning and we can do it all over again.

I can only hope that Usher and Alicia Keys can help us mend our wounds.

verse 1 (usher)

there`s always that one person that will always have your heart
you never see it coming cuz` your blinded from the start
knew that you`re that one for me
its clear for everyone to see
oooo baby
(you gotta rock away to this one)
you will always be my boo

chorus 1(alicia keys)

i don`t kinow about ya`ll but i know about us
and this the only way we know how to rock
(x2)

verse 2 (usher)

do you remember girl,
i was the one who gave you your first kiss,
cuz i remember girl i was the one who said put your lips like this
even before all the fame and people screamin your name
girl i was there and you were my baby

chorus 2 (usher)

it started when we were younger
you were my...(my boo)
now another brother`s taken over but its alright
even though we used to argue its alright
i know we haven`t seen each other in a a while but you will always be my boo

(alicia)

did you know even when we were younger
you were my...(my boo)
when i see you from time to time
it does feel like your my boo (my boo)
and no how hard i try to hide you`re my boo (my boo)
even though there`s another man who`s in my life you will always be my boo

verse 3 (alicia)

yes i remember boy, cause after we kissed i could only think about your lips
yes i remember boy, the moment i knew you were the one i would spend my life with
even before all the fame and people screamin your name i was there and you were my baby...

chorus 2

verse 4 (usher)

my oh, my oh, my oh, my, my, my boo!
my oh, my oh, my oh, my oh, my boo!

chorus 2

chorus 1

En peace...

Thanks and praises

2004-11-25T14:34:00.000-05:00

DUE THANKS TO THE MOST HIGH FOR HE GIVES ME STRENGTH AND WISDOM.
Thanksgiving, a time for feast, family and fellowship with friends. Thinking back on the days of way back prompted me to pour out a little eye candy for those who aren't here:

Torn from the struggle of savings, good tithing and expressions of love brought me spoils from of the ghetto via angles above. The times of our past made me a much brighter man. Decades between us delivered automatic reverence. Mistaken marriage provided an increased exposure that should have lasted forever. But, expiration dates do not appear on our heads.

Thanksgiving was a time that we all would dread. Like the tears of that clown who dances the jig, I was a victim of lost love from infancy throughout all episodic adventures lived. We lost them time after time; years became months, the countdown till November always ended with a concrete stump. But those were the days, and now we mature.

MARCH ON VICTORIOUS LEADERS, RISE TO HEAVENS GLORY.

The lost loved ones look down and smile at our fears. Weep not victory is theirs, Heroes in heaven surfing on angelic currents of tears. Pause. Catch a moment to inhale, close your eyes. Be silent - exhale. The minds eye allows the inner soul to speak. Shh, be silent and feel the envelope of angels. Softly in the darkness of the Lords love circles the angelic army fluttering below eagles and above the doves.

"Drip."

An angel leaked a bit of moisture off of her cheek. Be calm. These sounds aren't ghostly demons aiming to invade. Open your arms for you shall not be afraid. For the ancestors they guide you with the Lord's wisdom and care. Laughter and smiles of the times we shared are chronologies within the stacks of St. Peter’s lair. So now angels watch over you, to see for themselves...Yet you are to busy. Blessed but stressed, on the go, to worried about tomorrow to stop and think. The Golden Faucets they drink from have no condensation, and fail to leak. But that's a conversation for the saved ones at home. Memories are closely kept for times alone. Yet we waist idle time on a cellular phone. The elders scream out “Learn from your mistakes and ours too.” Become wiser as we pass on, this is what makes up the chosen few. Protect the youth and give as you received. That is the Heavenly golden truth indeed. Lost ones are loved ones that continue to live longer than our desired greed.

en peace.

Condo-leez-ay! in tha White heaz-ay fo cheez-ay!

2004-11-19T12:23:00.000-05:00

Alright, so the "eeezay's" and the "izzel's" have reached their expiration date. But I had to use it to help drive my point home. IF George Bush gets his way, we will have an African American woman as the Secretary of State. Now this isn't a small detail. Do you realize that if "W" dies on an oil rig explosion and Haliburton's finest takes and "L" during a midnight Wendy's binge...that we would have the first Female and African American president all at the same time? Whoa! There is no wonder that Bush passed the Automatic Weapons bill prior to winning the election. If you thought Bush wasn't visiting the NAACP before, you can count on one hand the number of times he will hit the Ghetto in 2005-8.

Chicago's own FOI are currently working on their own theories...how to take out the W and replace the Texan with Rice. For the record, I personally have no association with any presidential death threat or National Security breech...So, don't come looking for me FEMA/FBI. But, I do think that the potential is cool. Just think, A sistah running the govt. Scratch that A republican sistah running the govt. Oh, the budget would be reached, every dead beat dad would be working on the Highway chain-gang, and AIDS would be as harmless as herpes. Steely Dan's What a Wonderful world would be our Global Anthem. World leaders would rename her from: Uncle Ben's Wild Rice to Rice-A-Phony the tempermental treat. It is an old Mason oath, neverr fuck around with a Black woman's anger. Just look at how "Leezay" handled herself during the 911 hearings. The entire country was impressed with her calming professional tone. Come on, that was how ALL sistahs handle themselves when faced with unwarranted drama. But, you all know that The minute she would hit office a sex tape of her and R. Kelly would surface and she would be stripped of her title faster than Vanessa Williams. In fact, by the time she would be sworn in as the Interim-President, all of Washington would be in search of "Coni's" past. Every ticket, bad grade, sexual murmur would all surface and topple all of the Watergate/White Water trial records. But of course the next in line would be a Mexican-American man. "La-RAZA!"

en peace

O.D.B. RIP

2004-11-14T08:58:00.000-05:00

It was a late September afternoon in 1993. I was working for an awful Newspaper in the middle Battle Creek, Michigan. I would escape this city every Friday and roll up to my Alma Mater: Michigan State University. I had an "L" rolled in my ash tray and I would roll the windows down in my 4 door Geo Metro and smoke my troubles away while driving up to the City of Dreams...East Lansing. I was blessed with an advanced copy of Enter the Wu-Tang: 36 chambers, from a fellow College Radio Alum, Jason Staten. The 1 hour and 35 min trip was filled with smoke and beats from this new group. By the time I reached EL, I had to hip some of my boys to the CD. I had mad trees on me back then so I just stopped at the Frat House and lit up blunt after blunt once I made it safely onto campus. Usually, my Metro outside of the Frat House was a signal to all of my smoke mates that I was in town and was holding. In fact it was amazing how many ladies and homies would just drop into the house on those Friday afternoons. I'll give 35% of the credit to my "holding" status and the remaining credit to the frat. (I'm a cocky SOB.) Anyhow, the WU. Man the WU redefined the music for the East! We all were aspiring MC's but the WU made our top 10 list from the first drop of Bring D Rukus. If the Freestyle smoke session needed a beat...shiiiitt, pop in that wu-tang. Clan in Da front was my personal Freestyle favorite...But wait. I digress...This aint about me per se. This is about the Old Dirty Bastard.

The strange career of the ODB had to be one of the best examples of what Hip Hop can do to an individual. yet today...I found out that ODB was dead and asked myself the following question. Can it all be so simple? Here was a brotha who was just released from jail, signed with the ROC, and had more than 6 kids...each with their own momma. This man had stopped the drugs because of his Parole and was trying to complete an LP and bam! His master called his number. Now ODB stands at the Gate of Heaven. Does God give him the Shame on a Nigga speech? Is he a victim of his own Gluttony, Lust, Greed and Sloth? I hope not. In fact I pray that this brotha is forgiven of his sins. This no doubt is a tragic sign to our youth. Sure, we had the death of Rick James recently who in fact had similar issues as ODB, but his death was significant to the 45-55 year old crowd.

ODB's death is a sign to my generation. The Gen X-men and women.

Back in College we had multiple sex partners, dropped shrooms, acid, and in fact we passed women like we passed joints. True and sad at the same time. I have many friends who led lives similar to ODB and some who knew when to quit. I stopped smoking about 2.5 months ago. Why would I stop the weed? Well it was very simple. I came to from sinus surgery and couldn't speak or focus. Constant smoke for over 20 years had caused my body to produce large amounts of mucus in my sinus passages and began to drain into the back of my throat, that was enough for me. No more. Drinking was out also. I was cured of my sickness with every new breath of fresh air, and with ODB's death I am reminded of what could have been.

What would have happened if we signed a deal after the Band in the Hand's live performance. What would have happened if The Playlist had hit it big and become more powerful than the Source or Vibe magazine. What would have happened if I had stopped smoking 10 years ago? Would life be all sunshine, partly cloudy or mixed Tstorms? Who knows...but I see the death of ODB as a sign. A sign to Hip Hop and a sign to all those who are lost. Vivid characters in Hip Hop die young. Fathers of families live long. Be strong my smokers. Just say no. But first put one up in the air for The old dirty bastard.

En peace

A Conversation with Carl pt 2...

2004-11-13T19:34:00.000-05:00

Carl what makes you a such a liberal Democrat? Living down south has its advantages...you get a chance to see the country from a different perspective. You can actually find Republicans who care about the global community and not just the almighty dollar. In fact, Many African Americans chose to become Republicans due to the Filthy, Sleezy, Democrats who take advantage of the poor black underclass men and women. Which makes me wonder...Why do African Americans side with the Party that failed to deliver us from slavery, and continues to put on their tap shoes and dance with us whenever election time comes around. Kerry/Edwards ticket lost and now democrats are leaving the ghetto in shambles. Kerry/Edwards signs now litter the streets just like old Hip Hop LP Posters. The renovated campaign headquarters are now abandoned buildings of failed hope. After this election they should have stuck around to help dry our eyes. Now we sit in our ghetto fubulous projects waiting for another blue-eyed savior. Democratic voting has been my choice for 5 elections. In fact I voted for KERRY this year. Yet, somehow post-Clinton lifestyle has turned into a dog-eat-dog society. Ask yourself...who cares about the African American vote? Lets look at the numbers...All of your blue states had heavy AA voters. We turned out in large numbers. Yet our southern AA voters in the Red States...our Truck Driving/Chicken Ranchero's and Agriculturalists...voted for Bush. Why? Because they know how to make money. The Democratic ticket rarely stopped in Rural America. The small town matters. Death tolls from Iraq matter in Small towns...yet Taxation matters so much more. African Americans need to find a leader quick. One who can assemble the culture and do more than ask us to Vote or Die...obviously we aren't dead...or are we 3 ft high on the totem pole? (Just ask the Native Americans who sit 3 ft below us.) I better start speaking spanish...it seems to me that Brown is the Republicans favorite people of color.

The chosen ones

2004-11-13T06:53:00.000-05:00

Who be the chosen 3? It is obvious that there is a trinity but hmmm could it all be so simple, when the Savior, pastor and spirit aren't so clear. Come on. Help is on its way. Analytical minds say that I should pray. Prayer is power, every hour, on the bus or a plane driving to school and in church. What is it worth. Millions of dollars appear on the doorsteps of the right, while the left gets what's left. Cause? Take a guess. Who am I but the man in the middle, caught in the blessed state of righteous living. I prosper. I grow. Thank God, I know. The universal truth. There is a God, and there is a faith that remains true in my soul.

We are chosen. We are the freedom walkers, the moonlight stalking brown. From the visions of Hagar and Ishmael we are those who are looked upon as failures. Non-believers, the stepped on few. Darker than your Autumn Brew. We are the Native African Americans. We are the captive collectives living in modesty, driving in wealth. The chosen ones survive, the families grow. The education diminishes and success breeds flight. Slave runaways bred from reality, unconscious of society. Quotes of planning & preparation prevent our growth. Sharecropper mentality has been overrun by hip hopper sensuality. And you ask me about the trinity? Your destiny seems to be about Myself, I and me. Fathers, Sons and Holy Spirituality has been replaced by MTV. What quality can one gain from a remote control and bag of corn - butter popped? Or better yet, a game that teaches war, when we all wish war was over. Recover, please. We are the individuals who should be in control. Angels do our battles...and they drop more than Iraqi innocence. Misery loves company. Especially when it comes in 3's like bad luck, why are we stuck? Lack of faith, unforgiving grudges? Lost tribes of the Lord live on. We shine, we spiritually escape accident, drama and pain...yet we remain convinced that it was luck. Chosen ones stand up. Unite your power. Get married; make love in the shower of the Almightiest love. Aren't the pigeons in the ghetto doves?

En peace

Dyin tryin...ode to kafia

2004-11-04T12:11:00.000-05:00

I was tryin too. It was so hard to do. Live or luv. that's what I understood, either do wrong or be up to no good. There was no right way. Just the wrong way to play...which wasn't ok. But I was tryin. Trying to be someone else, striving for the mantle piece of my dreams. Trying to become the dad that my dad always was but never was to me, or perhaps I just couldn't see. Life changes a man after 33. Damn, could I be so right. Sitting in the bed at 3am at night. yes that's right. if it is dark out side don't that make it night...I try, I strive to do what is in my soul, but out of control enimies come at me with out fail. I duck and dodge but temptation is tough. Faith is even tougher. Keep on brotha man. Strive to become better than the other man. But who is that man. Shades of skin make it hard to read between the lines. I guess we just have to do our best to be more than blind. We have to use our inner eye. Beyond the third wave. We have to use our love gague. The item that makes us grow after the relationship has wilted. The experienced tear that has dried and become the salt that heals our wounds. Life deals heavy blows. But on this day. I am going to stop Tryin'. I am going to do. One never knows do one. When the sun rises the dew comes. unlike any tear, more like the sweat from our ancestry. Or perhaps like the ocean spray from a distant land. The echoes cry "We do much better than you, and we got less". What a mess, I'm in debt, but you're homeless. I am king of my destiny. Tryin' aint in my vocabulary. well it used to be, after today Tryin' isn't equal to Free - do -me. So what! it is a stretch. But what can a brotha do when he sees life as sketch. A brief note from a friend from back in the day. Do I sit around with dismay. Hell no, cut the locks and sport a fro. What up Doe. You from the D. How many folk you know that be tryin' daily.

Tryin' is different than doin. And doin is easier than tryin' but the definition of tryin sounds so sweet, angelic even. But how.

En peace.

Hallow teen....

2004-10-31T09:39:00.000-05:00

Growing up in Detroit, Michigan had its perks back in the '70s. African America was percolating with Bachelor Degrees. The Motor City was pumping out educated citizens in a pace that equaled the assembly line. Of course there were sections of town that had their rancid pride, but overall we had a great city. My cousins, grandmothers, and aunts/uncles all lived a bike ride away. My block was filled with children my age and often you couldn't walk a mile in both directions without seeing children in the street. Time stood still then. It would be pure fiction in the next century.

Devils night was the precursor to Halloween. It was a time when a boy had to defy his parents, and grow some courage to get even with the mean ol' man who protected his 12' foot square lawn with his shotgun. It was a time to egg the houses of the girls that never gave you the time of day. It was that special occasion to become...a man. We would set our digital alarm wrist watches to 1:00am. A time when most of our parents were knocked out. Sneaking out of the house wasn't a problem. We didn't have a dog and usually it was simple. Listen for the snores, if you hear two sets...the parents are at the drive-in dreamland. Usually we would stick to simple stuff. Toilet paper, throw the egg and run, and the "grass stomp". Of course we weren’t bad kids...we couldn't muster up enough balls to set a house on fire or put a banana in the tail pipe of our enemies...probably because we didn't have that much hatred in our souls. We never heard of war, never worried about gun crime because that was our parent’s obligation. The City of Detroit had a pact back then. When the streetlights came on the crime would begin. Simple. The city belonged to the Kids in the am and in the evening...Woodward squeaked and out came the freaks.

Halloween morning was usually cold and clammy. But there was one Indian summer that brought out 70-degree temps and provided all the kids with a glorious day of trick-or-treating. I was 12. I was able to Trick or treat without a parent present. I bought a mask and most of my friends had either a mask or some form of paint on their faces. We had a few tag-a-long brats that had to roll with us but we embarked on our mission just before dusk. Each of us carried a pillowcase or a hefty bag. We walked for miles...following the porch lights that lead us in to the Detroit night sky. Generosity filled the hearts of the entire city. Most children ended the night with so much candy that it became a burden to carry, so of course they called it a night. On the way back to our respective homes we cracked jokes, ate candy, and lived life free. Freedom was king back in those days. We were free to roam our streets. Free of the sick and twisted crimes of this 21st century. Of course we had to inspect the candy once we brought it home. Cup cakes, Fruit, Open packages...all went in the trash. This precaution was a glimpse of what would become Halloween...Caged kids without freedom.

Flashing forward, we find many Churches behind the demise of Halloween. Yet they manage to hold fall carnivals, Hallelujah festivals and Haunted Houses as a way to keep our kids safe. We no longer send our 12 year olds out into the night, expecting their return before 10:00. What a way to run our society. Take back our streets people. Why can't we trust our neighbors? Why can't we begin to live our life without fear? I realize that it is tougher conditions in our world. Yet I flash back to my days as a child. I walked to school, I walked to piano practice, I walked and my mind was free to wander. How many children walk. How many bright young minds are far beyond the latchkey of our multi-media? How many kids are becoming hollow minded and media guided. Lets turn back the clock on this Halloween and make this a time where we turn off the television and walk the streets.

En peace..trick o treat...vote or die.

Bush vs. Kerry...

2004-10-30T06:19:00.000-04:00

Ahh, Election day approacheth, and I am vexed on who to choose. While, my culture preaches that we should be ousting Bush, I am still a bit worried about the John Kerry Presidency. Why? Well at least I know what I am dealing with when it comes to W. I know that Bush has been in office for 4 years. I know that I am doing horrible with my portfolio, I know that I am stuck in a Money Pit of a Condo, and I also know that the price of Gas has risen from .82 to 1.82 in 4 years. I also realize that as a single brotha, I haven't had a tax break, continue to get reemed on SS and State/Govt income tax and I am not to happy about my Student Loan. But, the good news is, I don't have to worry about behind the back politics.

I know what I know. The funny thing about Bush's politics is that you get what you expect. IF you expect George Bush to hand over Big Business on a silver platter you are wrong. If you expect George Bush to provide you with a office instead of that stuffy cube you are wrong. But what you can expect from George and his gang is consistancy. Mediocre consistancy...hard core crime overseas, hellish senate battles. (Captian Hook Haliburton rules over the Senate you know.) Yet, one good thing I can say about Bush... George Bush aint no punk. The world realizes this...yet what do we see in John Kerry? A Plan for Minority Health? Energy Independence? Affordable Health Care for all? Strength and Security for a new world? Hold up JK. Hold on. This land is my land, this land is your land. Who are you trying to fool. How do you expect to push all of these plans past congress, past the senate and past the American People. It took George Bush 2.5 years to restructure the Clinton Govt. (Which was in power for 8 years.) So what makes this man think that he can accomplish this much? John Edwards is a rookie. Not to mention that there aren't to many Democratic front runners for Secretary of Defense, Secretary of State, Homeland Security etc... One thing I have learned in my travels is that Big Talk = Little action. An answer for everything = little action so, in most cases I have to be a bit weary of JK. (Also one thing to note: JK is worse than a rusted swing set...he does have a checkered past...up one minute down the next, on the democratic side, republican the next. Far from Liberal but not to far from the Right.)

More than likely JK will get my vote. After all, I would like to see Hillary Clinton become a cabinet member, I also have faith that the inner Hippie in JK will help the world understand that Americans aren't Cowboys, with 6 shooters on the side. But be careful. Write down JK's plans. Mark my words...not much will take place. Especially if we continue to focus on the Presidential race vs the Congressional and Senate races. ISnt this our most important choice. When you hit the ballots do we really know who our senator is? Are we really sure that our elected officials understand our demands, our fears, our pain.
How can a John Kerry or George Bush feel my pain. How can they understand the drama that we feel. It is one thing to live in a Big White House...But the world is technicolor and Rich White Men will never understand. 18-24 year olds who have been inspired to vote...will be confused when walking into the voting booth. They will punch their presidential ticket and get over anxious when faced with the remaining votes. Remember your first time? it was so sweet. There the ballot was so innocent so, beautiful, freedom was. But after that first punch came more choices. Unexpected names, laws, choices. Time was of the utmost importance...what was this. Voting became hard work. Not a glorious opportunity...Now what does the average person have to think about prior to hitting the voting booth. Social Security is not the biggest issue is it. Health Care really isn't the issue. Jobs could be an issue...but think about the Global picture.

Beheadings, High College Tuition, Africans with Aids, Global Warming, Global Waste, Space Waste, Kidde Porn, Prisoners vs Soldiers, Mental Health Care, Nuclear Korea, Russian Mafia, Middle Eastern Outsourcing, Big Business Corruption. Now these are some issues. Handle them George W. Handle them JK. One of you two will be in the trenches of our new world order. 3 days dictate the future of our World. Vote or die? Choose or loose? Debate if you must but one thing is for certain...Come January 2, 2005. A new world will begin. One of continued chaos or one of unexpected chaos. Select your candidates, gentlemen start your engine....The world is not ready for what comes next.

Meanwhile Sadam sits in jail, Osama sits in the mountains, and the crackhead/heroine addicts infest our suburbs. How sweet the sound of silence. O say can you see...by the dawns early light...how proud can you be of our country? We drop bombs on the poor we ignore the hungry. People are dying daily, and we worry about social security.

But aint that America, little pink houses for you and me...#$%@ your neighbor.

En Peace.

Falling out of love...and into the same ol rut...

2004-10-27T01:33:00.000-04:00

No, I am not a love analyst. I am just a common brotha who tries to make it bigger than it should be. I want my work to be larger than life = work ethic. I have a love for humanity which = genuine nature. I am also a romantic = danger. Sure life can be described as a bowl of cherries. But somehow I manage to get the ripeones with the large pits. So, who cares. Perhaps I am just another ecentric guy who loves to express himself in words. Or perhaps I am just a sap who wastes his time (and money for that matter) on Trophy Women. Sure, I want a beautiful woman. I also want a wife. So, characteristically I am trying to help you understand the 35 single mans blues.

I am no punk. I can pull a woman without trying, in fact I often do it just to stay in practice. Yet, it gets boring after a while. You fall in "like" with a woman, and eventually you fall into that same ol rut. She becomes the one that you should let slip away. Funny how that sounds on paper. Slip away. Isn't that what people do on their death beds...slip away. Is it that I am slipping away in the dating game? Is the Atlanta Society my metaphorical death bed? Perhaps not. I just think that I am lazy. With the ATL's 10 women to every Man population I have grown rediculously lucky and lazy. But consider the odds. That data is a bit off. 10 women to every Man. Lets look at that a bit closer.

Atlanta has a relativly large gay population (=Bix and gay) so lets up that number to say 12 women to every man. Nope scratch that, you have to include the Nun/Bix/gay women. So lets just review the 10 women. (Women will be pissed at this next statement...i am sure,) 2 out of 10 women are my ideal mate, beautiful, wise, intelligent, in great shape and from wealthy parents. :) 1 out of 10 is that perfect ten, a single biracial beautiful woman looking for a husband, ripe for kids, $20,000 in her savings and a portfolio built for two. Yet 5 out of that 10 are bored, depressed, overworked women without a clue. So that leaves me with 2 out of that 10 who waiver between good looking/overly active and intelligent/ice cream eaters. This is usually the type of woman that I am attracted to. Ahhh, but there is this strange behavior that these women exhibit. Phychosis. They are crazy enough to think that they are either too good looking or too good for me. What type of stuff are they on? Ok, ok, before the She/man woman haters of america decide to attack my bloggs for life let me clear up a few things.

First, I am set in my ways a tad bit out of shape and expect nothing from my dates. I am a gentleman and somewhat of a scholar. One look at my sentence structure and grammar will tell you that I do not have a Masters in English. I love Women down to the core of their souls. I often end my relationships because I run. I fall out of love and into the same ol rut.
So, I have the problem. I repeat "Sheman!" I have the problem. I could settle for less. I could get in shape and find that top tier woman. In fact I could even stop being lazy get active and run into "Mrs. Right on Time". Why ask why when it is easier to fall into the same ol rut?

Rut: a track worn by a wheel or by a habitual passage. a usual or fixed practice. a monotonous routine. a groove in which something runs. OR the other definition: an annually recurrent state of sexual excitement in the male deer. Sexual excitement in a mammal (as estrus in the female) esp. when periodic.

The same ol rut.

That's right. Why not. Marriage is at an all time low. Do I sacrifice my freedom for a life of insanity. That is the question. Who ever made up the infamous "To be or not to be" quote wasn't kidding. To be sane or not to be sane. that is the question. So for those cats who like to ask me the Million$$$dollar question..."Why am I still single" here is my reply.

I never want to say these three words "MY EX WIFE".
I never want to perform these four words "CHEAT ON MY WIFE"
and lastly...

I enjoy my freedom of falling out of love...because this rut is eventually going to lead me to lover's lane.

Romantics fo life, tat that across your stomach.

En peace.

A conversation with Carl pt 1

2004-10-24T20:03:00.000-04:00

As I mentioned in my first blog, I have to give shout outs to my Brother Carl. He is a serious brain child of my two parents.
He has a sponge for a memory and obviously has an ear for music. Occasionally I will read his blogs to keep up with his educational pursuits. The message below is a response to his most recent posting: (checkout coliverblog)...

Mos Def and Talib Kweli CD reviews..
I would give MosDef's latest release a 3 (or what I would call Itunes Download) and I would give Talib's LP a 3 as well.
{1= Bootleg the singles, 2 = Dub it from your boy, 3 = Download it from Itunes, 4 = Buy it on Tuesday, 5 = Buy two copies on for your collection and another for your safe.}

Talib Kweli's beats are average, typical and status quo. Highlights are the tracks with MJB and Common (feat. Anthony Hamilton.) as usual this CD is a lyrical feast. But again, Talib still raps too fast and needs a producer who can match his lyrical skill set. Mos Def's LP is beyond average but too eclectic for the commercial disk dubbers chillin in High School. How can Mos compeat with Mannie Fresh? (Go Dj that's my DJ...yuck)...It will take a nation of millions to get the black back in rap. But I think there is a bigger picture that we must identify....Contracts, Colaboration and the Nov 2 Election.

There are a few items that we must consider when reviewing rap tracks. 1. Where does this artist stand in his/her contract. 2. What is the industry currently asking for (ie Song and Dance or Bently Bling).

In this case Talib Kweli has reached his Commercial Peak, where mos reached his peak during his duets with Bush Babies (his singing debut), Tribe Called Quest, and of course with Kweli (Black Star.) It would be my hope that Mos has decided to kick Geffen records to the curb after his contract is over. Geffen has plugged many Mc's and halted a few. The Roots can preach to you on that topic for sho. Yet Mos is a bit different. He uses 2 familiar tracks one from Nas and the other from Jay-Z. This is typical of the Funk Master Flex remix days...and I wouldn't doubt if he had these two jams on DAT waiting for the next album. Then lets look at the Black Johnson tracks..an industry trick that has been used for decades...The phone call goes something like this.

"What up"
"Mos, whaz up black..."
"Yo, you got any tracks that I can use on my next Album?"
"Man, you know we are dropping in the Spring.."
"I don't care give me some of your rejects...I got to get out of this contract."
"Mos, you know I got your back, but I just can't give you my hot shit now."
"Cool, this is what well do, I take your leftovers and Geffen will pay you for production..."
"Bet, that's what I'm talkin' bout."
"But you got to do me one favor..."
"What"
"You have got to give me a 2:00 glide that I can roll wit."
"What's the theme?"
"Fuck you! Pay ME."
"That's whats up, I can dig it..."
"I figured it would be no problem."

The way I figure it, Mos is way too clever to release this LP as one of his best works. He'll wait for his independant release. Why give Geffen records platinum when he can drop classics on his own dime. Mos is indeed a profound rapper. His rhymes are top notch. Yet here is the key. Mos is just rambling about street lyrics. Kweli is just rambling about street lyrics. Both seem to be stacking chips..all the while, Hi-tek is in the lab brewing up some serious Black Star Stew. Lets all hope that these two men help bring us to the level of consciousness that we need. Especially after Bush's boys manage to steal this election again.

Designer Jeans?

2004-10-20T19:53:00.000-04:00

I am a Broadcast Designer...I create Television for a living. It is a pretty cool job but it has an interesting set of hours. Usually I awake at 4:30am, Hit Snooze 3 - 4 times and finally awake to the hottest shower my skin can bare. I often decide what I am going to wear while I am in the shower. If I am running late...you can bet I am wearing Jeans. If I have a presentation or am out of clean clothes I'll put on some Kakhi pants and a button down. Ok, so whats up with this blog. Is it all about the clothes? Well, I guess in a way it is. Some say that image is everything. Some say your are what you eat...but I have noticed that when you are neat you meet and great much better. (what a horrible line) Anyhow. The conceptual theories behind those who dress down vs those who are suited and booted are quite interesting. For example a woman in a Pant suit gathers more power/respect in Big Biznez than a Power Broker in a sun dress. Or how about the Mail room guy's shirt and tie spell broke and looking for a new job, as opposed to the corporate VP who prefers to go without the tie, starched and sportcoated, yet gets his hair cut 2 times a week. My question: Do the clothes that you wear really make the man?

I once dated a woman who was proud to deliver the following statement: "I have dressed many of men in Kenneth Cole and I am sure that I can find something for you." Now, I do like K Coles shoe collection. However his clothes are overpriced sloppy pattern rip offs. Yet most of your middle class suburbanites are sporting the button downs as if K Cole was actually a clothing company. Whoa nelly...pump your breaks. Here are the names of some reputable clothing lines: Eddie Bauer, Levis Straus, Ralph Lauren/Polo, and finally my all time favorite Van Heusen. Sure you have designer clothing that could be potentially better than the items mentioned above but for the bang for your buck dollar..I'm purchasing Van Heusen shirts 3 for $35 and a pair of Levis "Docker's" for $30 and I have a winter wardrobe. On the other hand, you could go into Bannan Republic and buy the tightest pants that your dime can afford, only 2 washes later you regret wearing those pants because all the gay men at work are starting to congregate around your cube.

Work attire should be exactly that, attire that you wear to work. Why aren't corporate companies allowing their work force to wear Sweats? Not the sweatshirt type but the Nylon type. A simple polo and a pair of nylon sweats allow everyone comfort and will also provide the company with a dressed down wardrobe. I often have to thank my lucky stars that my department is really relaxed. Designers can get away with just about anything...why, well we are artsy phartsy. So we get over when we can and we take over when needed. But the bottom line is this...Give me a good ol polo a pair of sandals and light blue jeans and I'll be the most productive employee in the building.

Insomnia...

2004-10-19T01:10:00.000-04:00

I am often confused by the way the body works. First you are sleepy (often after I eat) and then you awake. Energy rushes through your body and you are almost awakened by a force. So of course you get up. But what does one do when the rest of this hemisphere is sleeping? Well, I have come up with the best list, I call it the Insomniac's To do list...

1.) Wash out that nasty tub. (often Insomniacs refuse to clean up, but late night/early am is the best time to clean house.)
2.) Balance the Check book and align the budget.
3.) Watch Adult Swim with the mute button on and try to make up your own story.
4.) Organize your CD collection (alphabetically by Genre)
5.) Delete all of your unwanted emails and old files from your computer. Create new Blogs. (I am a suck up for that one.)
6.) Read the Bible...(you'll knock out instantly...)
7.) Wash clothes
8.) Cut your toe nails, polish your shoes, take a shower & change your sheets.
9.) Now that you have the washer running, a partially clean tub, clean sheets...watch the weather channel
10.) Calculate prime numbers with your eyes closed...

IF YOU CAN'T FALL ASLEEP...READ, WRITE AND EDUCATE YOURSELF...
because tomorrow you are going to be one sleepy individual.

Peace for now World...I have to knock the @#$% out.

Day of the dawn

2004-10-17T10:26:00.000-04:00

Thanks to my brother Carl for putting me down on this blogger.com website.