I Knew We Could Do It

GREAT JOB PHILLIES!

No One on the Field Has Swagger Like Us,
B

Corny, I know-but I'm alright with that :)

Where Must One Go To Find It?

Time is real.
We can't rewind it.
Outta everybody I met-
Who told the truth?
Time did.

... see the truth in the thighs of a stripper,
the eyes of my nigga-
If it's only one, then why should it differ?
So constantly I seek it.
Wondering why I gotta drank a 6 pack to speak it.

Took a picture of the truth and tried to develop it.
Had proof-
it was only recognized by the intelligent.
(Common)

How You Know Holla Aint Short for Hallelujah?
B

World Series, Anyone?

...so the sudden Philly fan in me may have a bit to do with my location compliments of the college I attend- but it is what it is.

LET'S GO PHILLIES!

You Should See All the People Here Acting Outlandish,
B

You Should Claim It

I had a conversation last weekend with a few ladies regarding this theory:

"The best way to get over one man is to get under another one."

That wasn't the exact line for the topic, but the discussion centered around going from one relationship to another- without breaks in between- and before giving yourself a chance to heal from the damage done in your prior relationship.

Of course this lead to a poem idea (which is in the works now, but has yet to be completed-so you won't be able to read it just yet). In short, whether it be a female or male in the "drivers seat"- you should not move on to one person and offer the possibility of love or dim your chances for love if you have not put the proper amount of time between that relationship and your last one.

Everyones heard that before though. What's most important is that you should have reclaimed your heart. Basically, if you're going from one person to another- four people later- your hearts all thrown around and broken up. Broken in the sense that you've lent it to various people over an extended (or maybe not extended) period of time and never took the time to get past whatever situation you had with them and be able to call your heart your own again- so now various people have ownership over different pieces of your feelings.

Those people shouldn't have the power to affect you the way they used to emotionally, and if they do- your heart is not your own. With that being said (and if you feel that this applies to you... and I'll be honest-it's very much applicable to me), maybe you should take the time to reclaim your heart.

No One Can Love You Like You,
B

Way to Rep

My boy back homes tat:For the blind (i.e. my big sister):
It says "Don't Bite The Hands That Feed You"
and a picture of 2 hands making the symbol for Virginia.

Lovin' It,
B

Untitled Poem 5

Belongings do help you to recognize yourself
And you can try to deny the fact
But I'm wondering what possessions I'd carry if all I could bring along had to fit in my backpack

If the concept of time was lost and the location had yet to be determined
What few items would I deem worthy of carrying over into my new life-hopefully assuming that there'd be something else in store

Would my favorite jeans still hold favor?
Cause truthfully-the holes are fashionable, but I don't know what good they'd do come winter time
And everyone knows I love pork chops, but I don't know how 1 could be split 9 ways come dinner time
I have 8 siblings

And though I'm not the oldest
I know that I'd have to make sure we all eat
If it was them or me
And going hungry equated to death
Whose survival would seem most important?
And who'd be sacrificed to ensure the safety of the rest?

See I'm still thinking of us as one unit
But what if I was forced to be my only concern?

My youngest sibling is 4
The undisputed love of my life
All she knows is pet pit bulls
Sloppy kisses
And loving Brandi thiiiiiis much
So I can't imagine her being put in harms way
Having no choice but to release her to people I knew only intended to kill her

Would I give my life as well?

I'd like to think that I would
But survival impedes selfishness not selflessness
Philly aint the only place that's bleeding
And ironically
The affects of war didn't really hit home until I started reading
I'm not depending on the TV

They failed to mention that before Iraq
There was Bosnia, Rwanda and Iran
If ya'll think the weapons of mass destruction we still can't find were a petty excuse for fighting
Imagine people dying
Cause their ethnic origin didn't fall under the leader of their countries preference
If their religious beliefs were deemed inappropriate
And torn from the history books they read to their children

In another country I could've been killed because I was black and/or Christian
And since I wouldn't be allowed to praise God
I'd thank my lucky stars that I'm still living
That I wasn't raped and I'm impregnated by a drunken soldier
Then faced with the decision
Of carrying and keeping a child my entire country would consider a spawn of Satan

Granted, I'm pro-God and pro-choice
Hypocritical maybe, but at least I'm offered the option of contradiction
In a land where we can abort babies versus killing them for a living
Though we both know it's all the same

For most of us here, death hasn't occurred at our doorstep while the smell of burnt flesh is wafting past our nose
At the same time the blood of someone else was embedded in our clothes
Cause the shirt was on the back of one of the bodies being burnt
And to the killers-burning the shirt was the only thing that seemed absurd

I'm trying to decide what would be worse
Biting my tongue as the murderers pass
Or burying the memories as a method of survival
When my silence only protects my oppressors

These people deserve justice
But I'm no savior
I can't save them
And this is where hopelessness sets in
They have no power to change their situation
And I'm in no place to help them

This Can't Be Life,
B

Playing My Position

"I'm supposed to be the soldier
who never blows his composure.
Even though I hold the weight of the whole world
on my shoulders.
I am never supposed to show it.
My crew isn't supposed to know it...

I need to be the leader.
My crew looks for me to guide them.
If some shit ever just pops off,
I'm supposed to be there beside em'."

Someone Take Me To Charlotte,
B

Class is In Session Muthafuckas, pt.2

"Slacked for a second,
but I'm back-no question.
Like I walk with a cane,
aint no half steppin"

Ok. Ok. I said that quote to say this- I know I've been meaning to post this for like 2 weeks, but better late than never, right? This will be written and broken down the same way I wrote part 1. This class is amazing [for those who won't look back at the first post- this post is about the things I learn in my Hip-Hop class]. Read on:

Didya know?
Initially, marijuana was used in Mexico for medicinal reasons (most people know that) and to help increase the grade of paper being made (for newspapers). William Hearst produced papers, and marijuana was cutting into his profits. Because of this, he used his influence to see to it that marijuana became illegal. As a result, this law is considered 'Malum in Se' or 'Malum Prohibitum'. This means that the product is bad in itself because it is said to be bad, not because there is a logical reason or because it lacks benefit to the people. Furthermore, alcohol and tobacco are legal but they aren't the least bit beneficial. Height of American hypocrisy, maybe?'

The fun facts continue.

Missionary position. Most people know that the name came from the church, but what was its' exact origin? When Christian missionaries went overseas, they witnessed people having sex in various positions. They didn't believe sex was a recreational act. It was only intended for procreation. Therefore, all that was necessary was laying on top of a woman and impregnating her. Hence, the name.

Ok-almost done.
Let me tell ya'll a story.

The professor for this class has some Rastafarian friends, and they had decided that they would all go smoke weed by the Liberty Bell to protest weed being illegal. Of course, the head of the group, a Rastafarian priest, was wearing a shirt that said 'Fuck the Police'. While out there, the police come over to them because they had heard the event would take place. Some of the Rastafarian's chewed and swallowed the weed to get rid of the 'evidence'. The police decided that they were going to press charges for obtaining an illegal substance, destruction of evidence, and verbal assault.

Here's how it played out: Our professor (whose also a lawyer) argued that the shirt saying 'Fuck the Police' was not an assault because fuck is only considered an obscenity if referring to sex. If it is being used politically, it's protected under the 1st amendment. So, to say to that he was assaulting the cop would imply that he meant fuck him physically. No go.

Secondly, swallowing the weed was not destruction of evidence because whether they smoked the weed or ate the weed, it would have been ingested-therefore, destroyed.

Lastly, Indians are allowed to smoke peyote in their reservations because the government has granted them a place and sanctioned their union. The government should not be able to determine what religious practices (i.e. Rastafarian's smoking weed) are not considered valid. This argument did not hold up, however.

Ok, I'm done.

Wait-one more (random) thing: the concept for race car driving came from when alcohol was illegal and bootleggers drove fancy/souped up cars to outrun the police.

Don't Let it Go To Waste,
B

You Know You Went To Temple If

Click the picture (it's a link to the list):

These were clearly written by an "old head",
because some references were completely lost on me.
BUT some of these gave me the giggles.

(i.e. Temple squirrels are HELLA gangsta,
crackheads aren't a rare commodity-unfortunately,
J&H definitely uses laxatives,
staying in North Philly does shake a lot of your usual fears, etc.)

Fight-Fight-Fight
for the Cherry and the White,
B

p.s. I'm starting over with the blog count. I know, I know-I was just about to reach 5,000 (imagine if I had started counting from the first day I made this thing). Anywho, this way I have a more in depth view of whose reading and how often. Yes, that actually matters to me.

INTRODUCING... Imagine Me

It's been a long while since I've posted a performance.
You might want to scroll down one post & pause Erykah.
Nonetheless, here you have it.
Performed last Thursday at Philalive-
Imagine Me.

Just Gotta Make It,
B

Thanx for the Laugh

I love my sister. I couldn't say that enough.

I'll give you just one reason: Even through text, I can hear her saying things exactly how she'll say them in person, and even if she's dead serious-I find it hilarious. Todays' conversation went as follows (excuse the hood/country grammar or lack thereof lol) Oh yeah, my inner thoughts will be expressed within brackets, in italicized font:

Big Sis: Hey chica what you been up to!?
Me: Bout to walk into work, I miss you man!
Big Sis: I forgot you be working now. I miss you too!
Big Sis: Girl why I had to report this lady I worked with to human resources. She is out of control! Last week she said "good night monkeys" to me and this other black girl. [uh oh, big mistake]
Big Sis: I checked her on it, but then yesterday I overheard her telling somebody that she was a redneck. Unacceptable! [has anyone seen the 'Unforgiveable' videos on YouTube? The word 'unacceptable' made this pop in my head immediately, who knows?]
Big Sis: Girl Obama is about to be president, I don't have time for this shit.
Me: Good night monkeys? Wtf? That's crazy lmao @ your Obama comment- you’re a mess.. what'd you say to her?
Big Sis: Yeah girl monkeys. Of course she tried to say it in a joking way but everybody know you don't call a black person a monkey [by this point, I'm dying laughing cause that's so true and I can just see my sister ranting]. I called her a monkey back, but she knew what time it was by the way I said it.
Big Sis: So then the starts explaining herself “Well if I didn’t call you a name that means I don’t like you. I call my son pet names all the time.” I said “Well I’m not your child or your pet.
Me: I know that’s right lmao are you on break?
Big Sis: That was just strike one. Strike two was the red neck comment and then she was talking about how her son calls African Americans “brown people”, but he doesn’t know any better although he’s 10 years old, girl strike 3!
Big Sis: Right is right and wrong is wrong. Obama don’t play that so neither do I! lol

Enough Said,
B

If I Could Say What I Want to Say

"I'm feeling nervous-
trying to be so perfect.
Cause I know you're worth it.

It don't do me any good.
It's just a waste of time.
What use is it to you,
what's on my mind?
If it aint coming out,
we aren't going anywhere.

So why can't I just tell you that I care?"

Wondering Which Way the Wind'll Blow,
B

Let's Get One Thing Straight, I'm Not

Late post:
(these flyers were being passed around campus)

Yesterday was National Coming Out Day. It was founded by Dr. Robert Elchberg and Jean O'Leary in 1988, in celebration of the Second National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay rights one year earlier, in which 500,000 people marches on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights equality. National Coming Out Day events are aimed at raising awareness of the LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender) community among the general populance in an effort to give a familiar face to the LGBT rights movements.
(Wikipedia)

Whether you're lesbian, gay, bisexual, transexual or an ally-
You have rights.

In Case You Didn't Know,
B

How Do I Feel?

This Doesn't Even Begin to Describe It,
B

I will be posting a part 2 to 'Class Is In Session Mothafuckas' as soon as humanly possible, considering my illness ::insert sad face here::

Today's My Day

Been a long time coming, right?

Happy Birthday to Me,
B

Son, I Think I'm in ♥ With You

Preface: The sole purpose of this is to tell ya'll how great Dom is.

Let's start with the need to know information. Last night was Philalive, Amanda Diva was the feature, and she was also painting on stage. So.. she's painting this picture and (I kid you not) as soon as she started, I decided that (though I had no idea what she was painting)-the picture was meant for me. This is what it looked like at that time:

She ends up painting the side profile of a black woman with big lips, a gold hoop in her ear, and a huge afro. What's in her fro? Anything music related- this consist of a person with headphones, a boom box, guitar, piano, tuba player, etc. The painting was ill.

Now is where the sad part comes in- when I ask her what she's charging for the picture, she tells me that its' been sold. Sick, much? I was. Just to wrap the story up, she tells me happy birthday at the end of the show and says someone bought the painting for me. GAS'd wouldn't even begin to describe the way I was feeling.

Earlier in the show, I told Dom I wanted the painting for my birthday (tomorrow, the 4th). I made the assumption that this went in one ear and out the other. Clearly though, it didn't. Now, I have my first piece of art and it's by a spoken word artist (let alone, a Def Poet)... and Mr. Wilkins bought it. I love you, son. Like. Really.

And just to top this whole situation off, Amanda Diva (who's an outstanding performer and full of energy) asked Dom, "Are you fucking her?" He replies no, and she said, "You're a great friend to buy this for her and you're not fucking her." Hilarious, but o-so true.

A happy me with the poet/artist who did my painting, Amanda Diva (I can't wait for 'Be.' to see this)

I Appreciate You Immensely Mr. Administrator,
B

p.s. Did I mention that last nights show was just oozing with talent? Shout outs to Babel and Swift Technique!

Do I Really Haveta?

Is it necessary to remind you that Philalive takes place tonight? Please don't tell me that it is. We should have this thing down by now.

Proceeding...
This is a tad random, but I was walking to class and I stopped to use the bathroom. For the second time this week, I've been inspired by the conversation that occurred between different people who wrote on the bathroom door. Crazy, right? I know.

Initially, I was trying to determine what target market I'd direct this magazine proposal towards for class, and I was stuck trying to figure that out. I knew I wanted it to be based on a woman's niche, and that's all I had. So, I take a bathroom break and this girl had written on the bathroom door about being abused by her father, not being able to leave, and asking for advice.

Some people couldn't help themselves but to respond with ignorance, but other people sincerely reached out to her. To sound every bit like a mushy female, I was touched. I ended up deciding to name my magazine Victor. What's that? Victor: a person who has overcome or defeated an adversary; conqueror. I believe this theme kind of followed up with the lesson from last weeks Bible study which spoke about placing yourself in the position of someone victorious versus being the victim.

However, what really impressed me was what I saw written on the door today. I can't remember the details regarding why the statement was made, but I know that a girl completely denounced the whole idea of religion. What was someone's response? She basically wrote her testimony telling how good God is on the door. I got to thinking... if I read this, and there wasn't already a response on the door- would I have wrote something? Would I have opposed the girls statement in hopes that she would see it and maybe learn a thing or two or change her feelings about My God? (what can I say, I'm stingy-but He's so worth sharing)

I have yet to reach a conclusion as to what I would do, but I took the smallest step by writing beside the girls testimony, "I second that."

I Just Had To,
B

Let Me Ask Ya'll A Question

Don't You All Answer At Once,
B