Jun 7, 2009
Cloud Room Manifesto
It have my nose running like bad ass kids ‘round old school family parties/sweetie’s bubble tush painted my eyes stained glass lush fantasies played by the smokey exhale bonged out on bubble kush/ vivid translations of reality unedited, unloaded, and unfuckwitable/to quote Allan Jones/nigga I can’t see it/B who I be kidding M-I be easy I stay crushed dawn till dusk/tight brown sweaters /hella heavy on top refined professional swing printed on jean back pockets/if life was the mic/Miz would be in vocal booths building ciphers within scriptures holding the L too long/get a frame nigga take a picture/No, I don’t know none of ya’ll niggaz, yeah we chilled a few miles & got tatted off bless/but to truly know someone is Co-D-ing scared knees from their struggle/can’t get close to a nigga like me cuz back stabbing bullet proof walls are perpetually under construction /with a blurry eyed foreman who stays tron tronned up dealing truth about buildings I may never see again/Pork chop Davis soap box sharing visions of dream travel from gentrified Columbia Street to revitalized 1-6-1/plus other places on the map we soon to see/could I be anymore Stokely Carmichael/black fist pick reference introduced by Chandler Bing/looking for a few weeks/sunny skies & a pound to crush/still can’t see the Divine in me/from birth I’ve been bathed in the sinner’s misery
Mar 28, 2009
Live from somewhere ...
Forever blasted, in effort
To shelter me from the
Presence of your absence
My heart weighs heavy
My lungs challenge maximum capacity
Relentless negotiation with time for more
Nostalgic concerning each day’s unique imprint
Because today my son, you are 8
But tomorrow, you will be 8 and another day
Each story quickens my memory
While every developmental milestone exhumes
Our journey into endless infinity
My goodness you were right
She did come, the lady with stuff
To make everything … better
To shelter me from the
Presence of your absence
My heart weighs heavy
My lungs challenge maximum capacity
Relentless negotiation with time for more
Nostalgic concerning each day’s unique imprint
Because today my son, you are 8
But tomorrow, you will be 8 and another day
Each story quickens my memory
While every developmental milestone exhumes
Our journey into endless infinity
My goodness you were right
She did come, the lady with stuff
To make everything … better
Feb 28, 2009
Back to the Blog ...
Well, I know I have been away from the blog universe for quite some time. Most of my attention has been spent on the first three chapters of my novel … The Divine Sinner Chronicles – Inspired by True Events.
The title does indeed give it away, it is a fictionalized version of my life … well to be honest some of the people and places are fictionalized but its pretty much going to cover the perpetually blunted adventures of Marcus Smalls, as played by Donte Baxter. I plan to create a blog for the book, so please be on the look out for the Divine Sinner blog coming soon …
I’ve missed blogging but I needed to focus on completing my sample chapters and book proposal. I have now reached the point where I’m doing query letters for perspective agents and I must say the task of sexing myself up for an agent is way tougher than the actual writing of the book.
So much has happened since we last blogged together … President Obama is whipping Capitol Hill into shape, the New York Post is fucking up as usual, and just as an aside I’ve been boycotting the Post for the past 10 years at least. The Yankees have opened spring training for the third year in a row with a steroid cloud hanging over them. My opinions on this “steroid era” are way too long to get into right now, the same goes for my opinions on most pastors … ya’ll niggaz is still whack.
Oh and my Mac died, which is what started the blog drought in the first place.
Ok, that is more than enough of my sub-conscious drivel. I will bring back my award wining Marcus shit soon but for now … L.E.S STAND UP!!!!!!!!!
Blessings,
M
The title does indeed give it away, it is a fictionalized version of my life … well to be honest some of the people and places are fictionalized but its pretty much going to cover the perpetually blunted adventures of Marcus Smalls, as played by Donte Baxter. I plan to create a blog for the book, so please be on the look out for the Divine Sinner blog coming soon …
I’ve missed blogging but I needed to focus on completing my sample chapters and book proposal. I have now reached the point where I’m doing query letters for perspective agents and I must say the task of sexing myself up for an agent is way tougher than the actual writing of the book.
So much has happened since we last blogged together … President Obama is whipping Capitol Hill into shape, the New York Post is fucking up as usual, and just as an aside I’ve been boycotting the Post for the past 10 years at least. The Yankees have opened spring training for the third year in a row with a steroid cloud hanging over them. My opinions on this “steroid era” are way too long to get into right now, the same goes for my opinions on most pastors … ya’ll niggaz is still whack.
Oh and my Mac died, which is what started the blog drought in the first place.
Ok, that is more than enough of my sub-conscious drivel. I will bring back my award wining Marcus shit soon but for now … L.E.S STAND UP!!!!!!!!!
Blessings,
M
Nov 6, 2008
History
It was an amazing evening this past Tuesday. I started the day by heading back to my old hood to scoop up Jus and take our historic trip to the polls. Our personal history as father and son bumped into us on every street corner as we walked through the only hood he’s really known in his nine years. We moved to the Bronx this past summer and I was careful not to do any change of address with my voter registration. My healthy-black man-paranoia-spidey senses told me to watch out for “the man’s” tricknology. So up in the morning, to get that 5 train to the J to Essex back to the Lower East Side to vote.
I was a little concerned my name might not be in the book like during the Democratic Primary. But that wasn’t any conspiracy theory against my first Black President and me. That was because I’m registered as a socialist (The Working Families Party to be more exact), which I need to change but that’s something other to discuss. Jus and I stepped into the voter’s booth after a rather short wait in line. Which is not a comment on the hood because I saw mad regular hood cats on the block community organizing.
“Yo my nigga! I better not see you on the block till your ass voted muthafucka. True story, our vote counts my nigga, we could have our first Black President. Are you even registered? I bet your ass didn’t even get that shit done”
“Nah yo, I registered. I’m just gonna get this dutchie from Sharif’s spot so I can have the ‘I voted’ L when I get back upstairs.”
“Aight my nigga, that’s what I’m talking ‘bout! Niggaz standing up and being accounted for and shit.”
“Whatever Farak Ofama.”
When we got in there, I felt a little overwhelmed. If memory serves me correctly, I’ve voted in every major election since I registered at eighteen. And it’s always been about the lesser of two evils except for the couple of times I got to vote for David Dinkins. But on Tuesday, I was about to do something that I think most of us thought would be close to impossible in our lifetime.
When I was a kid one time this lady asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I said “a football player like OJ Simpson he’s my favorite player. And President, and maybe a drummer.” Looking at me with a smile, she said “There has never been a black President before maybe you can be the first”.
Just an aside, yes OJ Simpson was my favorite football player as a kid. Had an action figure and everything, he came with weights and shit. No! He didn’t come with a knife and glove! I was a kid and who knew.
In a rush, the first thing I did was go for the little turn down pegs but Justin stopped me in mid motion. “Dad! You have to pull the red lever first, can I pull it. Then you can do those things up there.”
“Shit Jus, I’m glad you’re here I might of fucked … um sorry, messed that all up. Barack needs my vote, I better be on point.” And just like that, we sipped history much like our hero’s before us when they we able to vote for that very first time. “You know dad, Barack is like George Washington. Not the first President but the first Black President.” It was awesome to be sharing a historical moment with my kid that we were both aware of.
Politics never really materialized for me but Barack did. And not only for me but for thousands of kids like me and like him. The American Dream. For the first time in my life I felt like the American Dream included me. It was strange to feel my cynicism towards this country melt as I sat on my couch mesmerized listening to his speech. I felt like … I can’t believe I was thinking it, I felt like an American. Like those flags placed behind him as he spoke were waving for my family and me too. Its funny how a moment in time can begin to shape every moment that comes after it.
These are indeed exciting times.
M
I was a little concerned my name might not be in the book like during the Democratic Primary. But that wasn’t any conspiracy theory against my first Black President and me. That was because I’m registered as a socialist (The Working Families Party to be more exact), which I need to change but that’s something other to discuss. Jus and I stepped into the voter’s booth after a rather short wait in line. Which is not a comment on the hood because I saw mad regular hood cats on the block community organizing.
“Yo my nigga! I better not see you on the block till your ass voted muthafucka. True story, our vote counts my nigga, we could have our first Black President. Are you even registered? I bet your ass didn’t even get that shit done”
“Nah yo, I registered. I’m just gonna get this dutchie from Sharif’s spot so I can have the ‘I voted’ L when I get back upstairs.”
“Aight my nigga, that’s what I’m talking ‘bout! Niggaz standing up and being accounted for and shit.”
“Whatever Farak Ofama.”
When we got in there, I felt a little overwhelmed. If memory serves me correctly, I’ve voted in every major election since I registered at eighteen. And it’s always been about the lesser of two evils except for the couple of times I got to vote for David Dinkins. But on Tuesday, I was about to do something that I think most of us thought would be close to impossible in our lifetime.
When I was a kid one time this lady asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I said “a football player like OJ Simpson he’s my favorite player. And President, and maybe a drummer.” Looking at me with a smile, she said “There has never been a black President before maybe you can be the first”.
Just an aside, yes OJ Simpson was my favorite football player as a kid. Had an action figure and everything, he came with weights and shit. No! He didn’t come with a knife and glove! I was a kid and who knew.
In a rush, the first thing I did was go for the little turn down pegs but Justin stopped me in mid motion. “Dad! You have to pull the red lever first, can I pull it. Then you can do those things up there.”
“Shit Jus, I’m glad you’re here I might of fucked … um sorry, messed that all up. Barack needs my vote, I better be on point.” And just like that, we sipped history much like our hero’s before us when they we able to vote for that very first time. “You know dad, Barack is like George Washington. Not the first President but the first Black President.” It was awesome to be sharing a historical moment with my kid that we were both aware of.
Politics never really materialized for me but Barack did. And not only for me but for thousands of kids like me and like him. The American Dream. For the first time in my life I felt like the American Dream included me. It was strange to feel my cynicism towards this country melt as I sat on my couch mesmerized listening to his speech. I felt like … I can’t believe I was thinking it, I felt like an American. Like those flags placed behind him as he spoke were waving for my family and me too. Its funny how a moment in time can begin to shape every moment that comes after it.
These are indeed exciting times.
M
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