Zones

Let’s be real for a bit..

Your defensive schemes all out of wack. The area your covering isn’t even the most vulnerable, you’re looking at it from the wrong perspective. You’re looking outside – in, when you should be looking inside – out. Guarding against the run, as if you didn’t just allow me to pass.

Man to man coverage. Worry about who’s in front of you. That’s your responsibilty. Don’t depend on any sort of safety coverage and no don’t peeking into the backfield. But it takes a certain type to be able to do this. Some can, some cannot.

The end zone is the end goal, of course scoring is important, but so is time of possession. The longer you hold on, the better your chances of winning.

Should you choose to bend the rules, play without dignity or outright cheat, you will be caught & punished. Once word gets out, free agents won’t even respond to your messages and you’ll lose future picks.

I mean, it is all sort of a game anyway, right? We mask it as a playful activity, something for amusement, but in reality it’s so much more. We all want to win and hold up our trophy.

And after you’ve gotten that trophy every living being desires, you also get a ring.

That zone defense you’ve been playing got you here, but it won’t win you a ring. Come here. Do your job and only be concerned about the man in front of you.

And I promise the same.

 

4 Your Eyez Only

Nobody died around me lately. The city’s been heating up but my circle stays cool, mostly. It’s hard though, trying to do the right thing and stay out-of-the-way. I logged onto Facebook the other day, I know somebody who knew somebody that was killed. And another somebody who knew somebody did it. Both sides of the story, right in front of my eyez. One real nigga and one bitch nigga, depending on who you ask… the roles reverse. Both families, attempting to preserve their loved one’s legacy in the court of public opinion. In all actuality, the only thing that occurred was each post serving as an accelerant to the opposing side.

Mediators posting subliminal statuses about what may or may not have occurred. Speculation turned into acceptance and acceptance into anger/hatred. And I just watched. And would do the same again, if I had a 2nd chance. Why? Because I scrolled through the feed of the victim and the accused…

That confirmed the shit I learned in the streets was true
That real niggas don’t speak when they beef with you
They just pull up on your street, let the heat achoo
And if a real nigga hungry he gon’ eat your food

J Cole – 4 Your Eyez Only

One page, for months leading up to the events… full of fight reposts and “real nigga” status updates about “fucking other niggas bitches” amongst other things. The overwhelming insolence was but the buds of a more deeply rooted problem. Maybe he was a product of his environment or more likely, a victim of the circumstances within that environment.

The other page, as silent after the murder as before. Nothing but spam posts, for years leading up to what occurred. The dude definitely had the means to be more active on Facebook, yet he chose to separate. Right, wrong or indifferent he completely immersed himself and remained committed to the streets in every aspect. He was dedicated to the omerta lifestyle.

From what I’ve seen afterwards, I don’t see an end or resolution in sight. The people who’ve chosen certain paths, will lead to similar, unavoidable destinations. Their family members will speak of how great they were. The truth hidden amongst an intertwined web of grayish, mixed, black and white reality.  The cycle will continue to repeat itself. My only hope is, for our childrens’ sakes, myself & my homies can avoid being on either side.

See world, you’re no good.

Convince & Repeat

I’ve been away…

To deal with my affliction, as self diagnosed. However, I believe any clinical psychiatrist would agree. I don’t hear voices, but I must be insane. Truly, I must be. I mean, lots of artists & writers have dealt with mental illness. All the symptoms are there. The feelings of deja vu, repeating the same actions and expecting different results.

The adversity arises, year after year. I defeat it, send it back into the depths of obscurity and celebrate myself as cured. Things return to status quo for months, quarters at a time until the affliction returns to my realm.

Upon each return, it is more difficult to defeat than the last time. I’ve reached a point where I almost need it in my life, to feel normal, otherwise I’m a zombie…. lifeless and emotionless everyday, until it returns.

I receive nothing from it, instead I sacrifice who I am, my sanity as a whole… to appease…

… and to return to distant memories of when the affliction was but a flutter of naivety. Things weren’t always this way. But they have been, for quite some time now, the same. And as the affliction comes and goes, as does a piece of me each transition.

 

Photo Cred: Damian Michaels – The Road to Madness

Defense Tactics

I do not pray for my enemies.

I besiege their walls & wait for their downfall.

I will not love those, who do not love me.

I remember and will not forgive the lies until you’ve returned my wasted time.

Even still,

I bear no ill will,

But I won’t forgive,

I’ll just pretend.. the way you did.

Lifeless

All them likes, media fame & street cred
Behind closed doors he’s a deadbeat to his 3 kids
A weak man,
Far less than I see where there’s a mirror to peak in
But every weekend, he’s the street’s friend
I’ll pass
Rather,
cherish the moments
heretics have avoided
Guess at this point, I sort of built up a tolerance
seems that the only thing these niggas built up lately is followers
Pardon, bruh, I’ll try to meet you between proper use & ebonics
seems that the only thing some people built up lately is followers…
Speaking generally as a topic
more specifically these awful ass, terrible fathers
You know,
the one that hasn’t seen his son since he was still in diapers
Y’all are like zombies, literally deadbeats
Lifeless.

 

Unsought

Animosity has moved where admiration once lived

A warm shoulder to lean upon

a cold one returned in gratitude

A fledgling associate, your value now lacks

yet a sliver of hope remains still

Admission of feelings

caused tension to grow

within

a distorted collection of sentiment

resting in its place.

 

Inspired by The Daily Post – Daily Prompt: Unseen

 

Pinkies in the Air Drinkin Hennessy

I should’ve plotted out my major points, before writing this. But the fact that I didn’t, is essentially what this entire piece is about…

I find it difficult to relate to most of the writers/bloggers that get mainstream shine or even popular independent support online, on an educational level. Yet, in the same space, I aim to one day create content as influential as theirs. I don’t believe that my lack of a degree constitutes me being any less creative than them, it’s just a general perception thing. See, I went to a major university but only for a semester before I left. When I got there I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about what the future held. I was going to be involved in campus activities, I’d pledge Alpha after my freshman year and be involved with the young, black future leaders I was sure to be surrounded by. I wanted to be apart of something established and to have my voice heard…

But as I attempted to integrate my  former life & habits, into the jumbled, mix of events and occurrences that is college… the square peg never fit into the round hole. I wasn’t cut from the same cloth as those people who surely once had the same dreams and aspirations I did. College is probably the first place I saw major division within the community. Classmates, whose parents live on the same street and have been good friends for years, grow apart. The artistic kids go to open mics, the smart ones live in the library, the social ones join frats and sororities and the leftovers sort of drift. I was a drifter. I saw how the organizations and groups divided those who were once close, into splintered factions of special interests. The place I always dreamed of coming started to become less appealing and once the shine wore off, I left.

While everyone else was finishing up at university, I was out fucking up. Bullshitting at community college, selling mid grade for kush prices and smashing all the chicks that never even went to college. All the while unhappy, because I knew this wasn’t me or at least who I wanted to be… But I also wasn’t the pretentious, degree waving asshole my former classmates were growing into. I was in a tough spot. Was I being resentful and a hater? Or just marching to the beat of my own drum? What would I have become if I stayed in college?…

That question is irrelevant. Until H.G. Wells lists that time machine on Amazon, I’ll never know. But, what I’ve realized on my life journey, is that there is an untapped demographic. One that content rarely reflects the life of. The young black male, lacking a college education but works hard. He’s intelligent and aware as anyone else, but is constantly overlooked. He absorbs media, yet there is none reflective of his situation. All he sees is the cookie cutter image of what a “successful”, black male must have accomplished or look like. I hope to create content for the intelligent, black men (and women) who didn’t go to college. The ones that don’t own any tailored suits or polished Cole Haans, yet have interests and concerns no different from the Summa Cum Laude brothers. The true silent majority.

The thought within the “established” of the black community that says if you didn’t graduate college, your voice, thoughts and ideas are somehow inadequate, needs to die. And it will. God willing, I’ll deliver the fatal blow to those ideals myself.

Stop drinking Hennessy with your pinky in the air.

Thank you all for helping me realize my worth and find my voice. What you read is but a skeleton outline of what I hope to become & produce.