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.

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.

 

Pretty Penny

Her attention doesn’t come cheap, if you were expecting it easy. But not just the time itself, the qualifying requirements. Yeah you got your Masters but what’s up with that PhD? You bought a 4.0? Better get your change up.

She used to date this one nigga, he stayed in the streets heavy. Quarter pounders at a time, he used to keep a Big Mac. Til police kicked the door in, they shut down the whole trap. I think she was still in school then and had to deal with all that shit.

The years are starting to get to her. The physical blessings turn into curses cuz we slick stressed for time. Not everyone just wants to use you, must be hard to be fine. But do you really wanna say you lost your money and mind?

Just a matter of time before she falls back on me. But I don’t get the perks because she thinks I struggle with money. I have to listen to her stories, I roll up as she whines. And now, this once so pretty penny’s starting to lose all its shine.

Inspired by The Daily Post – Daily Prompt: Shine

27

Today is my 27th birthday…

27 is the perfect cube.

At 27 though, still, I am not the perfect dude.

I have flaws and at times, I feel lost.

My eyes glossed

All those joints that I’ve rolled

Cause reflection of tolls

of last breaths from some artists I know.

Morrison, Hendrix are VIP members

I’ll stay out if I make it past this next December

Intoxication

Winehouse celebrations, threaten life as I know

The rains of nirvana, Cobain, they fall slow

We’ll sip slow

27,

recklessness

be no more

for this is one age I can’t wait to see go.

 

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