tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3472149786970764342024-03-12T19:40:08.039-07:00True VillainyF. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-16742987581259266742015-06-19T23:47:00.002-07:002015-06-19T23:48:29.544-07:00Preamble<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;" />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Why would I bow to another man?/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">When I built a nation with my bare hands/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">With blood, sweat, a lot of tears, and some rubber bands/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">All this belongs to my sisters and my brothers man/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">To anyone with ancestor's skin like a Summer tan/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Sick of seeing us killed on some Son of Sam/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Then be told to keep the peace like the Son of Man/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">To be black is a statement - its intrinsic/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">We wear the shame of the country like it's in season/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">They hate that, so they say that our way's treason/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Militias, cops chop us down, they say it's in reason/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">The game's rigged from the get go, they been cheating/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Had codes from the jump, ain't even press start yet/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">I can't hide, so I gotta be the loudest barking/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">I'm Superman but they claim that I'm just Clark Kent/</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3;">I been looking for liberty under God/</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3;">But only found misery living up under y'all/</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ZT0QYdxJ_RaenVhXuzGya2O6DTCFumxmgrrURG6ym-3oqEoPnROEQxV2VgHHEhZPys3mVAiU7scj2ZPGR4VWJfDLXHPLoAWcjlpYTYZpyRd1yXX9mDYkTDFhbjuiaLRhjH6GcwqlbRQ/s1600/FLG439.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ZT0QYdxJ_RaenVhXuzGya2O6DTCFumxmgrrURG6ym-3oqEoPnROEQxV2VgHHEhZPys3mVAiU7scj2ZPGR4VWJfDLXHPLoAWcjlpYTYZpyRd1yXX9mDYkTDFhbjuiaLRhjH6GcwqlbRQ/s320/FLG439.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span id="goog_2141864633"></span><span id="goog_2141864634"></span><br />F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-64410782629657197342014-12-10T22:21:00.002-08:002014-12-10T22:26:24.832-08:00Who Are You Wearing?<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Although designed with me in mind, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And spaces made-to-fit for me and mine,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Despite being tailored for generations unfolding</span></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">
</span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>- this country don’t look right on me…</i></span></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">
</span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maybe it’s the molding, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Cuz the profile in the bodice isn’t holding,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tight around shoulders and no solutions in sight for the collar slowly closing.</span></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">
</span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>- this country don’t feel right ‘cuz we are wolves in sheep’s clothing…</i></span></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">
</span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dangerously mix-matched and never truly blending.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Misfit since infancy,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We legion of quiet soldiers, silent infantry</span></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">
</span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Pressed uncomfortably against seams conceived </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To be worn by someone with different genes.</span></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">
</span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>- I am just too Haitian for my calves to fit in these jeans!</i></span></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">
</span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This country and my contours come at a constant cross-purpose.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Convinced my cuts can produce colors for these clothes,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I know those who bleed my dye</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Might die,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Face-to-face with bleach…</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With police.</span></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">
</span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is only a test, I must be on display.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For sure, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">These cutting-edge social programs are government couture…</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Out of touch designers with vision so avant-garde</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Consumers are alienated and put on guard.</span></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">
</span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>- this country positively clashes with my politics.</i></span></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">
</span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But how wondrous and grand!</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For me to be unsettled was part of the plan, my friend.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Disrobed and naked holding a placard that reads, “I Am A Man”, again.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">More troubling still, I can’t tell if I am the model or the mannequin.</span></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Which stands to reason,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When one notes revolution went out of vogue last season.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmrJ5GY3v1gSeoU7fluPNcHDupylbjp8ogNSJvlcPAEhB0Q2BLuRTXWIGGQbO-RWsSu8GKflAde4IuL-LC4OT7eDDnO7naUbgwzwiUexn4_1iSA_lNePmHoeyJhjLJOOlfGuLuNx7AMqM/s1600/tumblr_lfkpdePgjh1qajnfno1_500.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmrJ5GY3v1gSeoU7fluPNcHDupylbjp8ogNSJvlcPAEhB0Q2BLuRTXWIGGQbO-RWsSu8GKflAde4IuL-LC4OT7eDDnO7naUbgwzwiUexn4_1iSA_lNePmHoeyJhjLJOOlfGuLuNx7AMqM/s1600/tumblr_lfkpdePgjh1qajnfno1_500.png" height="320" width="267" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-47610210361908785722013-10-12T09:57:00.001-07:002013-10-12T10:01:38.438-07:00When Scribes 'Sankofa'<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Where are we now? </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When the system works effectively and leaves no child behind?</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I've seen invisible men, raised as black boys, sow talents for colored girls who saw themselves in the bluest eye as apparitions. Fragmented phantoms that you can sorta see and sorta feel, taking lashes on a turned cheek with their eyes watching god like Zora Neale.</span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-1dbf5a87-ad87-9c96-00ef-04aec86795cb" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What is there to do when to make it up there to tell it on the mountain top you have to witness the descent of the girl who fell from the sky? </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had beloved kindred down those mean streets that understood the first part last, thus, never divining important lessons before dying.</span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How does it feel to be the lowest common denominator for so long? So long that our autobiographies are algebraic and undefined. Unable to see our reflection in a rising cane river, we move closer to our tipping point. </span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This, after reading the dreams of our fathers from the brown etches in our palms? This, after listening to Sula sing a song of Solomon at the threshold of Giovanni’s room?</span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The phrase on the tongues of firebrands is change, an ember on the wind of words spoken. A manchild will always be told to find their promised land in another country. </span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">BUT, if none of what was written was true, then are we not saved? Or is the new Jim Crow pure and pristine, the color of water? Either way, we'll have the fire next time.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGe4BhJESIdcdxpXimfsL6Wt4cn-bcTuhNFKzZsZJcOrn1exXevVajs8d57QybnQJJuPMASqLYqriUqXOv_a7tofRO2zRauXRnlJlvswxkutscIiGWqZS0Xeqp0uFpbJ3jrUAGtWV-_6o/s1600/baldwin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGe4BhJESIdcdxpXimfsL6Wt4cn-bcTuhNFKzZsZJcOrn1exXevVajs8d57QybnQJJuPMASqLYqriUqXOv_a7tofRO2zRauXRnlJlvswxkutscIiGWqZS0Xeqp0uFpbJ3jrUAGtWV-_6o/s1600/baldwin.jpg" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span>F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-3315463604087761102011-12-20T23:05:00.000-08:002011-12-30T23:17:43.914-08:00Smartest Man On The CinderYou can find me in the Arctic, reading Egyptian artifacts/
A telephonic symphony singing - bringing me all the facts/
Don't even try to see me - believe me - I see through all of that/
The smartest man in the cinder...Cinderella rocking a Starter cap/
I rose from the ashes, made Alexander the Great moves/
Learned to cheat at Chess - I algebraic equate you/
To fake dudes...and win the game in like eight moves/
Award winning, spit kicking - no fame for it/
But the world's my canvas - step back, you see my name on it/
See the world how I see it, you can see flames on it/
It's why I work with Manhattan to see some change on it/
Whether metaphysics or mathematics, my brain's on it/
From sunrise to sunset, I'll son you/
Simultaneously reading Sun Tzu/
Memorizing text while I'm whooping that ass in Kung-Fu/
I can run the globe with a pen, paper, and drum loops/
I'm not a joke, I'm a villain slash chameleon/
So laugh it up mafucka - I kill comedians/F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-79012423687441234532011-05-13T19:59:00.000-07:002011-05-13T20:02:13.399-07:00"A Secret Between Friends" (Fibonacci Sequence Story)<name="Keywords" content=""> <equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> <name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"> <name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 2008"> <name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 2008"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:documentproperties> <o:template>Normal.dotm</o:Template> <o:revision>0</o:Revision> <o:totaltime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:pages>1</o:Pages> <o:words>491</o:Words> <o:characters>2802</o:Characters> <o:company>New York University</o:Company> <o:lines>23</o:Lines> <o:paragraphs>5</o:Paragraphs> <o:characterswithspaces>3441</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:version>12.257</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-alt:"Times New Roman"; mso-font-charset:77; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:auto; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">"Don't.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">"Please?"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">"Why not?"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">"<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Bad</i> idea, man."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">"I don't know…seems, possible."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">Eleven stories just didn't seem high to me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">My favorite movie moment is Indiana Jones, stepping off into the nothingness.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">"Is this how you want to celebrate your twenty-fifth birthday? Standing on a hotel rooftop with your closest friend, cradling a full-on Bronson?"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">The stars were particularly inviting. Their twinkling, iridescent path paved an inviting direction for me to walk. A celestial runway poked into the indigo canopy of dusk. Missing, however, was the push I needed.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">It came like a wind. If I recall the moment clearly, it was wind. A strong wind. It barreled over the building and took my legs from underneath me. Friends with gym memberships should be valued at times like these. As if to challenge my resolve, she held me at the building’s edge.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">"So, I'll ask you again: what the fuck made you think this was a good idea? As a matter-of fact, while I've got your complete and undivided attention, why the fuck did I think this was a good idea? Oh, yeah, I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">didn't</i> think it was a good idea. I am doing my best to understand what's going on with you right now, but you are not helping, and I'm considering leaving you here to sort it out yourself because this is freaking crazy. You know what? I'm out."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">She pulled me up with an ease a witness could describe as herculean. Although I hung over the edge of certain death for about three minutes, it felt like forever. The hum of the city nightlife shook the air, the vibrations clearly reverberated in my bones. Thousands of orange light bulbs reflected off tinted windows and conglomerated as just two gleaming stars in her eyes. Halfway up onto the rough cement ledge, she looked at me, and smoothly pulled me up to my feet. When our eyes were level, I could see the well of tears clearly. She would keep them trapped on the precarious precipice of her eyelashes perpetually. The look on her face froze, like so much coffee stained porcelain poised to shake me from my task. Without saying a word, I asked her to stay. My best friend smiles, “Testing my ability? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Not</i> this dangerous.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">The rate of gravity is nine point eight meters per second per second. The average human terminal velocity in free-fall is one-hundred and twenty miler per hour. Diving in free-fall ramps the speed up, and the record is some unimaginable number that need not be stated. I realized early on that the room for error on this was minimal if not infinitesimal. Suicide was never in the plans, but it seemingly grew on me as inspiration for this dramatic act. This is where I'd make my stand.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">I returned to my place at the building's edge. Closed my eyes, tasted the humid, late Fall air on my lips. Thought about what not waking up would feel like, chuckled, realized I wouldn't feel a thing. Her shaking hands, gentle on the small of my back. Keeping me tethered, but eager to propel me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">"I'm ready. And it's okay, really. I'll be fine. To be honest, I've never felt as comfortable as when I'm in places like these. On rollercoasters, in fast cars, airplanes…This feels right to me."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">My life had been led up to this moment. An ironic thought to have had at the time. I stepped off.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">I fell about maybe forty feet before I began to slow my descent.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">I rose slowly to meet her gaze.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">"How are you doing that?"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">"...I can fly."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">"You knew?"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">"No."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica">"…Asshole!"<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;tab-stops:.5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.5in 3.0in 3.5in 4.0in 4.5in 5.0in 5.5in 6.0in; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-26946394649844349212011-04-30T14:32:00.000-07:002011-05-08T21:35:59.162-07:00Effects of Light (Departure)<equiv="content-style-type" content="text/css"><name="generator" content="Cocoa HTML Writer"><name="cocoaversion" content="1038.35"><p class="p1"><b><i>Flash (~~~>)</i></b></p> <p class="p2"><br /></p> <p class="p1">The Earth is crumbling. Coming undone, like so much stitching, unravelling. Just bigger. I have no idea to why I am here, at the end of things. No clue how I'm able to be here while everyone else is gone. I cannot help it. It'll all be over soon. The oceans are boiling, the ground is thin and brittle as ice in Spring. There will never be another Spring. Gray's last words to me were, "Do what you gotta. I gotta do what I been doing, running. See ya…" He ran until his feet stopped touching the ground, the proximity of the sun vibrating his every cell into pure speed. He was smiling, and dissipating into a beautiful blurring nothing. Before the end of it all, he flew. He'll never know now, but that's what he always did, he was never just fast - in reality he projected a charge that decreased his friction with the smallest of molecules. I miss True. She did what she does, opened her mouth to the sky and sang, repelled an incoming solar flare. She screams my name, because of all the vowels, they force her to open her mouth wider. I am watching God write creation in reverse.</p> <p class="p2"><br /></p> <p class="p2"><br /></p> <p class="p1"><b><i>Flash (<~~~)</i></b></p> <p class="p2"><br /></p> <p class="p1">The Earth crumbles. It's really sand. I love the sandbox the day after it rains. Clumps of rough dirt that make funny grinding noises in my ears because somehow it gets in my mouth. Rays of sun peeking out from behind clouds and painting Gray in pastel blues while resting in his pastel baby purse, bjorn, sling, thingy…A car pulls into the playground parking lot, as soon as the passenger door opens, a screech shatters the calm of the day. A small brown girl pokes her body out of the door and walks angrily to the sandbox. "Hi. Want some sand?" I say, as altruistic as I can imagine. "No!!!!!!!" She says, as loud as possible. Mom picks me up, and says softly in my ear, "I hope you never turn out like that one." I looked back to the sandbox, shrinking in the distance, and thought I heard someone say, "Come back, I need someone to play with." The sun shone proud in the pale indigo of the sky. Gray shuffled uncomfortably in his carrier, as if to free himself from his bondage and run before he'd learned to walk.</p> <p class="p2"><br /></p> <p class="p2"><br /></p> <p class="p1"><b><i>Information</i></b></p> <p class="p2"><br /></p> <p class="p1">Earthshine is the phenomenon of sunlight reflecting off of the Earth and shining on the Moon. That's what we are being called now, The Earthshine. We are a reflection of the connection the sun has with the planet. UV rays are broken into three types: UVA, UVB, AND UVC. UVA is a long wavelength transmitted from the sun, it gives us our brown skin and tightly curled hair. It is the natural form of energy. UVB and UVC are shorter, more kinetic wavelengths. The ones that burn us if out in the sun too long. We don't burn, we metabolize the shorter wavelengths, turning the heat into something else entirely. I call them 'expressions'. We express the sun's light in our different ways, but we still don't know why. I express via higher brain functionality, Gray expresses a frictionless molecular existence, and True expresses a psychokinetic relationship to sonic frequency modulation. We shine in the daylight, and glow a bit at night.</p> <p class="p2"><br /></p> <p class="p2"><b><i><br /></i></b></p> <p class="p1"><b><i>Waves and Particles</i></b></p> <p class="p2"><br /></p> <p class="p1">The others we've been traveling with have each exhibited some form of 'expression'. None as far advanced as True, Gray, and I, but noticeable physiological differences. The change in flora and fauna led us to believe we'd crossed into Canada a few days ago. We've picked up some nomads along the way from L.A. Two cousins, a gym teacher, three Washington police officers, two guys (Scott and Steve), and a slew of other folks met on the long road to where we are now. I haven't spoken to Gray in a day or so, he scouts so far ahead of us recently I wonder if he'll up and run off the face of the planet someday. True has kept excellent company however. She says things to me that I don't understand, although I know what she is going to say before she's done thinking it. Why is it no matter how smart we are or aspire to be, we never understand the opposite sex? When she sleeps at night, I look in her direction just to see her glow bronze against the purple of the night sky. She is Aurora Borealis to me. We kiss when no one is paying attention. It makes a sound, a faint humming. A steady bass line, in tune with the resonance of the Earth, Moon, Sun, and stars. We vibrate. We can feel it when our teeth touch by accident. We are so scared out in the wilderness, without our parents or societal markers. When we're near each other we forget the situation we're dealing with, and become entangled in one another. On a really sunny day, we made love for the first time. She was loud, and I was quiet. I could feel her every living process. Then we didn't speak for a while after. It's like this feeling comes and goes in waves. When she's walking ahead of me, I stand downwind, anxious for her particles to ride the wind and find me ready.</p></name="cocoaversion"></name="generator"></equiv="content-style-type">F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-67855014757938238342011-04-07T07:42:00.000-07:002011-04-07T07:43:27.046-07:00EchoesBust how we stand in the foreground of the american stageplay, when we<br />were casted as the background's understudy. Again in the foreground,<br />the bastard child of four fathers, now scorned by our fore-fathers for<br />disrespecting our single mothers in public. The revolution done<br />changed, Black man changed shades, Black girl turned blonde, I thought<br />I heard echoes of victory - turned around and the sorrow in this<br />song... Can you hear it?<br /><br />~~~>Listen, my people speaking, spilling blood in these streets/<br />It takes a toll on my soul, everyday I feel like leaving/<br />I hear my people crying, and them tears keep streaming/<br />Everytime I try I try to leave...they start to scream like/<br /><br />From forefathers, to martyrs, folk don't seem to regard us/<br />But they seen waters walked on, seen brothers auctioned/<br />Topics that talk on, people see and walk on/<br />Get tripped up, on what i spit up - now they sidewalks is chalked on/<br />I'm locked on - focused on the heat that make the beat dope/<br />I blow the winds of change just to ventilate the weed smoke/<br />You speak frail, what I spit you can feel, son I speak braille/<br />I spit fire, that's why you kill dragons when they inhale/<br /><br />Two <span style="font-style:italic;">niggas</span> foght under orange lamps,<br />Such a sorry sight forced me to cast away hope.<br />Being one observer, long I watch and thought,<br />"How redundant the term 'project growth'".<br />You see I, I speak the word less spoken by,<br />And all my people show me is disinterest...Can you hear it?<br /><br />~~~>Listen, my people speaking, spilling blood in these streets/<br />It takes a toll on my soul, everyday I feel like leaving/<br />I hear my people crying, and them tears keep streaming/<br />Everytime I try I try to leave...they start to scream like/<br /><br />Good Evening my people. I say 'evening' because I see the sun setting<br />on our culture, our very way of living. I see the decades and<br />centuries cascade past skyscrapers; the struggle, the<br />progress...chasing the fleeting sunlight. I say 'good evening', 'cause<br />I'm afraid we just missed twilight.F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-49455929357726042442011-04-07T07:39:00.000-07:002011-05-08T21:39:01.460-07:00How To Make A Slave"<equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><name="progid" content="Word.Document"><name="generator" content="Microsoft Word 2008"><name="originator" content="Microsoft Word 2008"><p class="MsoNormal">They shake us, break us, <span class="st0">make</span> us... hate us. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Separate us, negate us, give us...take us. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Reshape us, tie us up <span class="st0">to</span> change us, mold us ,controlled us...bought us, sold us. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Or so Lynch told us...</p><p class="MsoNormal"> and now we're just files in folders, denying our culture, relying on quotas, and</p><p class="MsoNormal">lying on sofas, and dying much slower, complying with vultures. <span class="st0">A</span><br />taste of death is what you get, when dining with vultures. Now these<br />bloods and crips cry on my shoulders. I control my fears, hold my<br />tears so I can see the source, and of course it's this work force.<br />They force work on this work horse. From nine <span class="st0">to</span> five it's their<br />house, let one of us in the play 'house', then it's "our house".<br />Descention in our ranks, we walk our own planks, but master produced<br />them, seduced them, subterfuge us <span class="st0">to</span> reuse us, used the dead <span class="st0">to</span> feed<br />the living, we're not born we're grown into this. Then by those who<br />love us shown <span class="st0">to</span> this: Be slaves <span class="st0">to</span> this U.S.<br /><br />~~~>Step up, step up. Step up <span class="st0">to</span> this auction block,<br />Take <span class="st0">a</span> look around, you still on the block.<br />Slavery never changed, slavery never stopped,<br />We used <span class="st0">to</span> throw stones, now we shoot glocks,<br />The chains they use <span class="st0">to</span> bind us are the chains that we rock...<br /><br />Listen, <span class="st0">to</span> the strained voice of an estranged youth: we can't afford<br /><span class="st0">to</span> hang loose, we're already strange fruit. With no knowledge of self,<br />and thus, strained roots. Tims or name brand ankle shackles, same<br />boots. Them cats on the block who yell "Ma!!", they got blame too, but<br />master destroyed the male image and frame too. It's still no excuse <span class="st0">to</span><br /><span class="st0">slave</span> trade our own, name game our own, gang bang our own, then<br />"Bang-Bang!!" our own. Front hard like this land is home, when post<br />forty and <span class="st0">a</span> mule we ain't got land <span class="st0">to</span> own, except the piece of earth<br />the we standing on. Truth is, someone in Knot's Landing owns the house<br />you're planning <span class="st0">to</span> build your family on. These silent weapons eat away<br />at your shelter like Homer Simpson in <span class="st0">a</span> candy home. I'm here <span class="st0">to</span> <span class="st0">make</span><br />your situations gladly known, cats is making slaves right out your<br />family's homes.<br /><br />~~~>Step up, step up. Step up <span class="st0">to</span> this auction block,<br />Take <span class="st0">a</span> look around, you still on the block.<br />Slavery never changed, slavery never stopped,<br />We used <span class="st0">to</span> throw stones, now we shoot glocks,<br />The chains they use <span class="st0">to</span> bind us are the chains that we rock...</p> <!--EndFragment--></name="originator"></name="generator"></name="progid"></equiv="content-type">F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-1250045496131390242011-03-21T23:11:00.000-07:002011-03-21T23:25:41.622-07:00Mulberry BridgesColonel of Pharaoh's Army - but I rap in the field/<div>Crouched in a Japanese field/</div><div>Clutching this Japanese steel/</div><div>"One hit, one kill", with a Japanese feel/</div><div><br /></div><div>Flow "Itto-Ryu" 'cuz offense is a must/</div><div>Watch my blades turn to flame during dusk and turn men into dust/</div><div><br /></div><div>I duel with the sun, just to produce similar heat/</div><div>So on similar beats, my foes meet an instant defeat/</div><div><br /></div><div>See, I stunned stunners, betrayed raids, and slay gunners/</div><div>Stepped on the edges of weapons, they call me the Blade Runner/</div><div><br /></div><div>I move straight through these tigers made of paper/</div><div>Something like a phantom canine...a Ghost Dog for you traitors/</div><div>An apparition on the battlefield - all you see are vapors/</div><div><br /></div><div>My Blade of the Immortal rap tames the mortal cat/</div><div>Brings flames through the portal back/</div><div>Peeped Musashi style game, saw his aim - then I brought it back/</div><div>You got money on your mind, so you never thought of that/</div><div><br /></div><div>In cases of intimate engagement, my blades kiss and embrace death/</div><div>Spit sharp - slice the sky, heaven, and God in the same breath/</div><div><br /></div><div>So please - bring the guns out, we'll see who's best/</div><div>'Cuz for bullets yes, but no such thing as a sword-proof vest/</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Feudal Villainy..</div>F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-25732153062592344042011-03-12T09:38:00.000-08:002011-04-30T14:36:59.864-07:00"The Effects of Light" (Arrival)<span class="Apple-style-span"><i> Shade</i><br /><br />We’d been walking for two weeks already, only resting at night. We were asked to clear the large cities as soon as possible. No one asked any questions, it seemed pretty serious. I didn’t know California had a desert. I didn’t know it was so big.<br />My little brother Grey walks so fast. I know it’s because he’s got shorter legs and takes smaller strides, but he says the sun makes him faster. One day, as the sun set behind a mountain, Grey sought to race its shadow in the waning light of the sun. He ran so fast…but the inevitable is resolute. When the shade caught up with Grey, his stride slowed, and shortened, then lengthened, then stopped.<br />The next morning, Grey ran ahead of the entire group, all day, without stopping. There was no shade to speak of.<br /><br /><br /><i> Reflection</i><br /><br />We couldn’t tell if we were going south or north, or any direction in particular. The announcements to evacuate L.A. were really sudden, and really organized. The P.A. system at my high school told us absolutely nothing. All students: please leave the building in an orderly fashion. There is a state of emergency being issued by the President of the United States for the state of California. Please go home.<br />As we were packing our bookbags, I met a pair of worried eyes. True. True Holiday. If you’re going to fall for someone, they should at least have an awesome name. I’ve had a crush on her since middle school, I think she knows my name.<br />The desert is starting to give way to woods or something, small plants poke through the grains of sand like snakes. One bites me, and I realize the desert isn’t giving way at all, there are a lot of snakes here. As the medic of the group comes to my aid, his panicked tone and sweaty palms inform me of the seriousness of the bite. His apprentice has the most beautiful bronze skin. She meets my eye, and says that everything will be fine. Then she says my name. True. In the distance, I see a shimmer, it looks like Mom.<br /><br /><i> Gleam</i><br /><br />Surrounded by giant Sequoias, casting long vestiges of their profile against the uneven and escalating terrain, the group can safely ascertain that we’ve been traveling north since leaving L.A. The last month blew right by us, and now we know what Lewis and Clark have dealt with. After looking back at my own journal entries, I am noticing a pattern in my language. It’s an odd feeling. I feel it often. Yesterday, a tree fell in the woods. A really big tree. Grey moved two people twenty feet away before it fell. He’s getting faster. I..I pushed True into the path of the falling tree, tripped Grey, and pushed a flat slate of boulder toward the tree. All within seconds of one another. True hit the ground hard, behind the flat rock, which propped up the tree. True’s left leg tripped Grey, who was trying in vain to save a third person from the tree’s fall, also behind the flat rock. It was amazingly fast, but somehow I knew it would happen that way. True was pretty pissed at me.<br /><br /><i> Refraction</i><br /><br />Now we are moving into Washington. The Space Needle is threading in and out of the horizon. We haven’t decided whether we should avoid cities or not, we still don’t know what’s happened. We came across a radio a few days back, I’ve been following a radiowave pattern I can hear without telling the others.<br />True spoke to me yesterday. I knew what she was going to say before she spoke, I could read her body language. I said, “You’re welcome.” I said it before she had taken a breath in to say ‘thank you’. Then I said, “I don’t know how, I just see and hear, and feel patterns. It’s getting more intense by the day.” Then she stopped trying to talk and just stared at me. Then she kissed me quickly, and whispered, “You did not see that coming. Did you?” Then her eyes grew inches in diameter, her blood started rushing, I could see her pulse quicken, saw what her mouth started to say, and spun to meet four people with guns.<br />As these strangers were delivering an intimidating diatribe, I could hear True muttering prayers, just barely audible. She was standing four feet away from me, but I could hear her clearly. I thought the fear was making my hearing clearer, but then I recognized the sonic wave patterns in her speech, they were amplifying. I nodded to Grey, and he became a blur. Dashing behind True, grabbing her around the waist and squeezing, True screamed. I yelled, “Down!” The group followed my lead. The sound was deafening, and the wind caused by True’s sonic assault blew all four assailants at least forty yards away and knocked down two trees. All this sun must be good for us.</span>F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-17499788418659975982011-02-20T12:31:00.001-08:002011-02-20T12:48:35.073-08:00Freedom/DiversityYou could be gay, you could be straight/<div>Let me get this straight - in this day/</div><div>People still saying, what you can and can't do/</div><div>And I can't speak for you, but I know what's true/</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Like I remember back, when you couldn't do jack - if you were black/</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Or in 1945 we was locking up the Jap/anese - Americans</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Forced into silence, stupid is so stylish/</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >We did it to the Chinese, did it to the Irish/</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Tell 'em what they can't do - then we keep 'em quiet/</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Passe' ignorance is passed down - hey, nowadays - we got it to a science/</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Showing Muslims hate? Since Osama/</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Now there's no such thing as race? Since Obama/</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Now it's your issue, it's your problem/</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Your reality - your drama/</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >But my question for you: how high you gonna jump when they ask you to move?/</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >What are you gonna do when there's something you can't do?/</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Cuz someone's looking at you like your lifestyle's not cool/</span></div>F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-91684437665155991882011-01-02T23:36:00.000-08:002011-01-03T00:05:20.870-08:00Metal WishA soul of titanium/<div>My flow like vibranium/</div><div>Explode like uranium/</div><div>Blow the roof off a stadium/</div><div>Beneath the drum, hear the hum? That's right - I stabilize palladium/</div><div>Skin like a Gundam - laced with thundranium/</div><div><br /></div><div>My eyes fiber optic - no need for straining 'em/</div><div>My mind is refined, rare find unobtainium/</div><div>Body like a suit of armor, couldn't put a blade in him/</div><div>Shining bright, with the sunlight? lens flare blazing 'em/</div><div><br /></div><div>Apollo made of alloys, you don't want to play with him/</div><div>Wrapped in dragon scales, man Durza can't shade with him/</div><div>John Henry with the steel - I don't slave with 'em/</div><div>New rappers is aluminum, they break when my slang hit 'em/</div><div>Made of sterner stuff - I don't cross train with 'em/</div><div>Repertoire of Megatron with energon - change with him/</div><div><br /></div><div>Beneath the surface are delicate inner-workings/</div><div>Hints of hope, hurt, and wisps of smoke/</div><div>No skeleton, muscles, or tendons - just bits of rope/</div><div>Holding it together, and if that shit broke?/</div><div>It all falls down, I lose my inner-ghost/</div><div>Forfeit my life , that's all she wrote/</div><div><br /></div><div>A has-been, spitting stories that'll tell them how/</div><div>More than anything - I wish I was metal now/</div>F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-42402409599787622152010-11-15T11:38:00.000-08:002010-11-15T11:43:21.943-08:00Looking (1st Draft)Looked out the window for the sun<br />Looked out the window for my son<br />Found Sun Gods in the space between Mommy’s palms<br />Was given God’s Son in the breaths between Sunday psalms<br />They were very superstitious…<br />Writing on the wall, writing on the moon<br />Trouble on the water, trouble in the field, fire in the house<br />Fire out the mouth…of preachers, teaching the fire next time<br />Telling it on the mountain<br />Looked in the library for Baldwin<br />Looked in the library for Batman<br />Looked at my people and thought,<br />“Which do you think fights crime better?”<br />Reading the books?<br />Or getting the book thrown at you<br />Because you was in the wrong place and chose to book it <br />Rather than be detained in Central Booking <br />Or taken to county where you aren’t allowed to read a book.F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-21217226367143463532010-10-20T22:02:00.000-07:002010-10-20T22:10:02.530-07:008-bit NightmareRam3 is Ganon with the Triforce of Power/<br />Came from the south, flames out the mouth - Bowser/<br />Break your styles down in an hour/<br />Came back to the game SNK-style Krauser/<br /><br />The enemy is time, I put punches between clock ticks/<br />Thirst the grab the 1st emerald - Robotnik/<br />Flow something like Dr. Wily know robotics/<br />And I ain't on the block a lot/<br />My mind's been evolving, revolving like Ocelot/<br /><br />The rap game is FoxDie - I'm moving like Liquid/<br />Moving like a liquid/<br />My Soundwaves found slaves' underground graves/<br />And with a joint like this? I point like this/<br />And I moved the Pacific/<br /><br />A mix between Mega Man and Malcolm/<br />Cuz I could switch the flow up and change the whole outcome/<br />And this is just a verse, imagine my album?/F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-50539007199543113382010-08-05T17:50:00.001-07:002010-08-05T17:50:38.868-07:00Dai Lee (for my Earth benders)With my feet planted firm, yo I stand stiff/<br />Imprint this sanskrit/<br />Flick of my wrist, like this, makes sands shift/<br />You bandstand fans can't stand it/<br /><br />My horse stance makes your whores glance and your land split/<br />Brought fire, water, air, and still couldn't dance with/<br />The Bronx Blind Bandit/<br />In touch with the Earth, Avatar, Captain Planet/<br /><br />Indigenous people with internet bandwidth/<br />Living off the minerals/<br />Walk through Omashu or Ba Sing Se like a 4-star general/<br />The writing's on the wall - I wrote it in the ground, so it's legible/<br /><br />From space, and I can see the tears on your face/<br />Which means you don't wanna die/<br />Cuz I redirect lightning like i'm Water Tribe/<br />Rock shock your block with a bop that change water tides/<br /><br />Come back for more, I make sure you're immortalized/<br />Cuz all you got is ad-libs and pot shots/<br />But I could bust a stance that make your bullets look like pop rocks/F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-42599416905280691062010-08-05T16:26:00.000-07:002010-08-05T16:27:20.072-07:00Killer In Cold Clothes>(For anyone who has ever wanted to know what the story of the scar on the center my forehead)<br /><br />Tuesday. Again. Waking up for school in the winter sucks. Especially on a Tuesday. Too close to Sunday to forget how fun the weekend was, just far enough into the week to forget how to have fun. That, and it’s still black as night at six-thirty in the morning in the Bronx, like God forgot to hit the switch on the sun here. I’m slipping on my clothes, which are cold as hell, which doesn’t really make sense, but if in hell they made your clothes out of ice that’s what this feels like. By the time I put on my Raiders hoody, which my mom got because they were sold out of Dallas ones, I swear I’m already frostbit. The streetlights reflecting off the snow are forcing orange through my window, so I can see my breath and everything. It looks like a ghost I gave life to by just breathing.<br /><br />I make my way downstairs to head out for school, tip-toeing past mom’s room like a Navy SEAL behind enemy lines, each time my foot touches the floor it makes the sound of small firecrackers with short fuses popping off on a hot day. I sneak like this for like ten whole minutes, past her room, and pick up my backpack from the living room. I realize my house in the morning is like a train at four in the morning. ‘Cause you can remember it full of people and when it’s empty you feel like the world is upside-down. Anyway, I turn toward the kitchen and my there’s my mom, making juevos con tostones, filling the apartment with my infancy in PR. With half her Puerto Rican accent intact she says, “You know, it was cute to watch you sneak around when you was little. Not so much anymore.” She doesn’t know, but when mommy speaks, even when she’s mad, it feels so nice, ‘cause she gives me her attention. I said back to her, “You worry too much ma’. I’m twelve now, I can handle going to school by myself.”<br /><br />“If that’s the case flaco, then how come your teachers say you miss school like twice a week? Don’t even try to answer, just take your butt to school, please!”<br /><br />I leave the plate on the table, full, and steaming in the cold apartment. Mommy says some curses in Spanish at me, but I’m already out the front door, so it sounds like her mouth was duct taped, and she’s cursing her kidnappers out for dear life.<br /><br />It makes me wish Papi was still here, he always knew how to calm her down. Mommy says he was a mad smooth Dominican chulo, and that he always wore pants so tight you could see his junk. That’s probably how he ended up with that Melinda lady. When I go with Papi some weekends she’s there with him, in their nice house, and she’s cool, and he’s happy. I have fun there, but when I think of how hard it is for mommy and me. I ask all the time, “Why did he leave?” She just gets mad and screams at me that I’m just like him, and I’m gonna leave her too. Makes me so mad to think about it, and I always think about it when mommy’s mad, which is all the time. Can’t be late, or they’ll mark me absent.<br /><br />On my way to school I gotta watch my back, especially since it’s so dark out. I dip into the Domincan bakery on the corner of my block since it’s always lit up with bright pink and green neon lights that say Rainbow Diner spelled “Raimbow Dinner”. Knowing that when my mom comes in here for a coffee later, the pretty Domincan girl behind the counter with the beauty mark on her upper thigh that looks like Florida (my boy Alfredo told me) and them fake gold hoop earrings will tell her I came in and bought a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich with my allowance. It’s like a message in a bottle that always get’s where you want it to go. Bochincheras are good for that. I killed the sandwich quickly and ran to the bus stop like I was getting an Olympic gold medal. Anyway, I go back to sleep on the bus ride to school, I don’t really have a choice, the bus driver has the heat set on ‘desert’, which the setting after ‘Cuba’ and before ‘Africa’. Getting to school early gives me the same feeling as when I’m in my living room in the morning, except for one difference: excitement. No one is here, and the playground gates are wide open.<br /><br />After running and skipping with joy to the playground, carefully bounding over the broken glass of last night’s drunken morons and dropping my bag in the snow, my day comes to a screeching halt: there’s a boy on the tire swing. There’s this little black boy sitting in the swing, he’s so weak that he can’t even move it, but he’s laughing so loud. It’s like a little black smudge on the all-white painting of my day. The sun is starting to come up now, and the blue light is tearing shadows into the calm of my early morning. Between the sun and the boy on the swing, I can’t tell which is pissing me off more. Don’t know where it came from, but an idea was climbing up my spine using the spaces between the bones. Next thing I know, I threw my hood on and let the dark colors of my hoody into my actions. By the time I got to the swing, I was sure between the sun and the boy, I could at least cause the boy some pain. Anything to get my swing back.<br /><br />He was wearing a thin denim jacket with a white, furry collar, navy blue uniform pants, a sky blue button-down uniform shirt, and some Payless loafers. His clothes were the exact same color as the morning. That made me angry. Changing my voice to sound older I said, “You want me to push you on the swing?” He was shocked, as if he didn’t know I was there. He responded in a small voice, “No thank you. I’m okay.” He had to be a third grader, how did he get to school before me, or any of the other fifth graders? The fact that this kid got here before me just pissed me off, so I started to push him on the swing. Faster, and faster, and higher, and higher, then spinning one way, then spinning the other; hoping he’d fall off. The boy started to yell for me to stop, so I pushed harder and harder. It started to drizzle a bit, then it rained a little. The playground was lit with an even, grey light, like the world matched my hoody, matched my mind, matched my heart. I stopped pushing when the boy started crying. I was just trying to scare him, but he wouldn’t let go.<br /><br />I went to pick up my bag when I noticed that the boy was too small to get out of the moving swing, he looked like a baby bird trying to take first flight out of the nest, so scared. Then he jumped out of the swing at its highest point, it was a good jump too. He landed like a cat, perfectly on his feet. Then the speed of his jump forced his upper forward while his feet stayed planted in place, half a second later he was falling face first onto the stone stairs that led to the swings. There was a crunching sound when his face hit, like stepping into fresh powdered snow and compressing the first footprint. I froze. He jumped up like he was asleep and realized he was two hours late for class, took three steps and dropped down. I ran over to him and asked what his name was, he said something like, “France” or “French”, and I was gonna go get help. Then I noticed that all the students from school were there now, the playground fully lit in a bright grey light, the school bell ringing. Right then, I could hear my mom in my head saying, “Flaquito, go to school now!” So I started walking toward the sound of the bell. I looked back and saw a pool of blood surround his body like a black hole opening under him, devils and demons waiting to dress the boy in cold clothes. I never saw the boy again, but I remember watching his breath leaving his mouth and wondering if his ghost was following me to school.<br /><br />Written By: Frantz Jerome<br />(All rights reserved to the author.)F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-4559601827211327752010-08-05T16:21:00.000-07:002010-08-05T16:22:03.273-07:00Digital TraditionFor all the negative things said about the increasingly inorganic landscape of New York City, it begs to be said that there is much natural beauty here as well. Parks, miles-long streaks of green leaves and forest wildlife. Streams…Browning, babbling capillaries running perpetual laps from the Hudson to the gulf of the South Bronx. The sun, playing tricks along the tips of skyscrapers, and lie across the ground with imperfect perfection. My family…saw none of it. We were too busy playing video games. Eyes glued to computer monitors, television sets, flat panels, and flat screens. My family’s tradition was playing video games.<br />For all the skeptics out there thinking to themselves, “How can a hobby, barely forty years-old, be a family tradition?” The answer: Who the hell asked you? Video games became tradition when I realized that from the day I was born, video games were there. My mother, stepfather, older brother, and younger brothers are my immediate family. Our tradition is based in the ever-evolving technologies of the video game console.<br />At some point in 1967, Ralph Baer writes the first video game for television sets. My mother was seven years of age at the time. She was being raised on a farm in rural Mississippi. My mother’s strong sense of justice and inability to do anything but work would be key ingredients in the gaming gumbo of my family. Ralph Baer was an employee at Loral, a television electronics company. As fate would have it, my stepfather was an employee at Loral in the eighties, but I digress. In 1975, Atari releases the godfather of modern gaming: Pong. My stepfather gets a degree in information technology, sends his resume to Loral. The rest is my family history.<br />In 1985 Nintendo released it’s first North American console, the NES. I was two years of age, and totally unaware how this would affect my life. My younger brother, Ronald would be born four years later, on the cusp of the release of Sega’s Genesis console. It’s always been Sonic versus Mario in our household. This is the set-up. The beauty of this integration, this melding of man and technology, the summation of our social recombination comes on the heels of the most complicated political occurrence of the 21st century.<br />In 2001, Sony Entertainment released Metal Gear: Solid. A video game whose overarching theme is that of the gene, meme, scene and sense. I was sold on the graphics alone. The game’s themes were broken into three amazing sensory-blurring adventures. Metal Gear Solid dealt with genetics and the moral implications of genetic engineering, Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty deals with how identity can be affected by the philosophies of one's society (a 'meme') and the effects of censorship on society, Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater dealt with how the time and place one lives in (a 'scene') affects their identity and how politics change along with the times, and Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots dealt with the 'sense' that people die, things move on and times change and that life shouldn't be lived fighting. We played each of these games for days, as in the hours we’d played could be measured in twenty-four hour increments. The technology premiered in this fictional world blew my brother and I away. My step-father would sit and watch us play. One day, he leans over to us, smelling explicitly of Drakkar Noir, and say, “You know, this game is only ten years behind what we’re working on now at L------- M-----." Here comes the summation.<br />September 11th, 2001. Some crazy stuff went down. The political climate was torn asunder. My brother and I were dismissed from school early. As latchkey kids, we made our way home, sat in the living room and did what any kid home from school would do: played video games. My mother would come home shortly after, angered at having to leave work early. Her sunset pink nurse’s uniform was soaked under the arms, around the neck, and across her back. She’d run into the house like she was being chased by the Taliban high command. She slammed and locked the door, froze at the sight of us placated by the video game during this extreme tumult. Right when our eyes met our mother’s rigid frame, a lion sat on the front steps and roared. At least, that’s what it felt like, but for the vibrations that shattered every glass table we owned. In reality, planes were flying overhead. My mother screamed, hit the deck like a Marine ducking mortar fire. My brother and I: perfectly still. Utterly calm. Zen-like. My mother jumps towards us, hugging the breath out of my still-changing adolescent body, sobbing hysterically. My brother, eleven years of age at the time, turned his head what little he could in mom’s grasp and confidently said, “It’s ok mom, those are just F-22 Raptors making a net formation across the city. The shaking is from the after burners, they’re going mach 1, breaking the sound barrier. That’s why the tables broke, calm down. That means we’re safe.” I was in shock. My little brother, memorized and comprehended the entire day’s events, lost his innocence virtually, then actually. Somewhere between his newfound fear of girls and understanding of nuclear proliferation, I’d noticed that video games taught my brother more than school ever could. Since then, my mom has mastered every form of Tetris.F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-66202938781530062362010-08-05T16:09:00.000-07:002010-08-05T16:13:59.778-07:00What Not: short story of a 'true' memoryI was rocking a white Kangol with a slight tilt, a white t-shirt one size too small, brown cargo pants, and a pair of white Nikes I saved my summer youth employment money to buy. It was July…or August, in the year of our lord 1999. Or I was wearing khaki cargo shorts, and black Nike uptowns, with a black tank top, or whatever she liked. I always did whatever she liked. Those were the terms of our relationship, terms that would eventually force me away. She liked when I wore dark pants and bright shirts, so I did just that. Alyx, my girlfriend, was never busy, but I could never get to her on that archaic Star Tac cell phone of hers. It would be five more years until I even had a beeper; her mom was well to do. Whether it was July or August escapes me, but it was hot! Newly tarred New York City streets were bleeding translucent waves of heat, but I was keeping my cool. She had this thing about ‘cool’ guys, and maybe I took it too literally, but I was determined to keep my disproportionately attractive girlfriend. I wasn’t pleased about having to make an appointment to see Alyx, (afraid she would start charging, she was so hot), but I was eager to see her. Or nervous, whichever. <br /><br />In about ten hours from this memory, I’ll be in my room, taking off my clothes. With each article shed, removing a layer of her expectations thrust upon me by predetermined pubescent pressures. I would know who I was, and who she was forever after. Standing at the precipice of my becoming a man, I would look back on this day with regret. Ten years later (at twenty-seven) I would turn over to see my wife asleep, her fertile mind mothering some loving danger, and laugh at how hung up I was on Alyx. <br />Right now, I’m a seventeen-year-old black kid standing on a stoop in the East Village. Looking a gangly collaboration of brown and white, some rice and beans The Bronx spit out into Manhattan. The blanket of smarmy heat is so oppressive the ginkgo trees are sweating – but I looked like I just stepped out of the refrigerator. It helps to be the lone person of color amongst the homogenized hipster trash strolling carelessly along Avenue A and Ninth Street, my cocoa skin acting as cooling agent. So damned cool.<br /><br />She's late for our appointment, five minutes of so, actually an hour, but I never mind when she’s late. I can remember her as being so attractive, like ‘too hot for a guy like me’ attractive. The perfect equation: equal parts track and field athlete, valedictorian, and my sexual equivalent to boot. She’d just moved to New York from its wicked step-sister New Jersey. We’d just reached the point in our courtship where we were meeting each others parents. You’d think that should’ve been before the sex, but clearly we thought otherwise. It’d been about a year since we met eyes and locked private parts in some Jersey playground at night, and this was our anniversary date…or it was a random Thursday with no particular meaning. Either way, I was getting to know her as a person, and I was falling inexorably in lo--. Hold that thought.<br /><br />She finally comes downstairs. As she does a breeze slowly crawls up the block and grazes her frame in the vestibule, right when as she crosses it. Her long, boxed braids gently jumped from behind her ears and landed on the soft of her neck and shoulders. The hem of her tan, linen dress skipped up her knees and revealed the carved, mocha-hued musculature of her thigh. Wind, the gentle pervert. She looks at her watch, beauty and beast in synchronicity. Gracefully parting her lips to say inconsiderate things perfectly.<br /><br />“Sorry about that.” She says, guiltily.<br />“About what?” I reply, knowingly.<br />She whispers in my ear, “You’re so sweet.” <br />Or was it, “You’re too sweet.” In a flat, cool, even tone to my face.<br /><br />She made reservations at a cozy Latin bistro on Avenue B a few blocks away, that, or we just walked in a found a table. It was designed so that patrons could walk in, go through to a back yard, and eat outside. She ordered an appetizer, the most expensive entrée on the menu, and a modest desert. I had the chicken with mango salsa. Or just a water. Whichever. The summer sun was setting, the pink and zephyr sky painting her brown skin in ethereal pastels. She was glowing. All of which, coupled with my combustible hormones, fueled my most daring and foolhardy adventures in romance. I started to say,<br /><br />“Alyx, I think I love y—“ <br /><br />Before I could finish, as if she’d had something just as amazing to say to me, comes:<br /><br />“I’ve been thinking about the idea of free and universal love.” Dreamily delivered deathblow.<br />“Uh, what’s that?” I replied, genuinely baffled.<br />“You know, like, being with whoever you want sexually. But always coming back to us.”<br />“Hmm.” Was all I could muster.<br /><br />I didn’t say another word to her. Like, ever. Until I bumped into her very pregnant belly at an airport in Arizona ten years later, en route to see my fiancé perform her one-woman show in LA. Alyx would go on to say that she remembered the amicable and lengthy break-up conversation, or was it the really awkward and short one. You know, the one that happened? Whichever.F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-10281583071687547612010-07-30T22:04:00.000-07:002010-07-30T22:14:06.647-07:00Dream WarriorsWho else but Ram3 rocking a 3-piece/<br />Could spit it with the kick that'll wake you from 3 sleeps?/<br />Blood's thicker than water - I wade in it, knee deep/<br />Architect - change the landscape of these mean streets/<br /><br />It's a paradox when my pen flows/<br />The ink hides the loops, now you caught in my Penrose/<br />The next Last Dragon, man - look how the pen glows/<br />The truth was on the page, from the moment my pen rose/<br />The ink hides the loops - a paradox when my pen flows/<br /><br />Watch and learn, my crew - schooling the nation/<br />"A job this complex requires imagination"/<br />That's why I treat the mind like mi casa/<br />And run schemes like Mr. Eames from Gun Hill to Mombasa/<br /><br />Super slick - I be dodging the snake's venom/<br />My verse is like a maze, I know that you're not getting/<br />But I keeps it really real - I know if the top's spinning/F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-13247014668433159192010-07-19T21:42:00.001-07:002010-07-19T21:42:57.947-07:00Game Over (for Frankie)When I move you move, is it Luda or inertia?/<br />Sick with the words, slick moves - Prince of Persia/<br />Word the - past meets the future like a Dinobot/<br />Ram3 hit the track, Atlas Shrugged - now he Bioshocked/<br /><br />This is like Wayne's World, you are not worthy/<br />Eat rappers, take their skills like Mega Man and Kirby/<br />The best of both worlds - split personalities merging/<br />You sick? I'm Dr. Mario - they prepping me for surgery/<br /><br />I rock the pen like Broken Sword wields a half knife/<br />Escaped from Black Mesa Projects, something like Half-Life/<br />I'm Gordon Freeman possessed by the Raging Demon/<br />Slice and dicing out with Raiden (mgs), shock like Raiden (mk) - leave 'em screaming/<br /><br />I'm 1st player, you 2nd on the guest list/<br />Blah Blah, you move bricks - man, whatever I play Tetris/<br />Yea..and my specials never finish/<br />You on the ground, first round - Super Hyper Combo Finish/<br /><br />--Digital VillainyF. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-12328645346712717102010-07-05T10:06:00.000-07:002010-07-05T10:08:51.916-07:008-Bit MorningIt's an 8-bit day, I can be your Mega Man/<br />We could push through whatever hurts, measure it in Megahurtz/<br />She wanna Rock and Roll, Rush to the megabytes/<br />Looking like a fly Ninja Gaiden in some leather tights/<br />Stalked her like a Sphinx in the grass/<br />Said, "I can free you from your dungeon, be your Link to the Past"/<br />Or I can walk past, that could be the end of it/<br />She shot me through the heart, on some Duck Hunt Nintendo shit/<br />Caught me using cheat codes, now she Bruce Lee with kendo sticks/<br />Tried to build with her, like a Tetris-trained architect/<br />But she slept on me like a Tempur-pedic narcolept/<br />Thought I worked quick like, "Get ready, on your mark, get set"/ Go<br />Figure, she had me looking Up, Down, Left, Right - point A to B - right back to Start, Select/<br />She had me feeling like Low G-Man, floating/<br />But now it's Game Over, no continues, last token/F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-78834342785998623842010-05-10T21:35:00.000-07:002010-05-11T01:15:56.010-07:00i celebrities finalIn this installment, we explore the global phenomenon of modern police brutality, and note its origins in the media.<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/UlAxAaS2ySg&rel=0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/UlAxAaS2ySg&rel=0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/q02W6-BuLkA&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/q02W6-BuLkA&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/n5SslQQnbZw&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/n5SslQQnbZw&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br />We as a 'wired' society know that this authoritarian brutality exists on almost every continent of our precious planet. What we don't know as a society are the factors that contribute to these events. One such issue is media representation and underrepresentation. Typically, Americans receive their national and international information via televised news. So do many other 'developed' nations. What stories are being told? From whose perspective? At what cost?<br /><br />One of the most crucial, televised conflicts in modern human history is that between Israel and Palestine. Israel being a Jewish state, and Palestine an Arab state. Here are the media's negative views of both nations (Arab and Israeli respectively):<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8QKxHINgloA&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8QKxHINgloA&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hYelJh0_Wso&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hYelJh0_Wso&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br />Now, the most negative Israeli media I could find was a collection of UN documents. Pretty clandestine material, not publicized to any great degree. On the other hand, we have decades worth of negative Arab imagery, at present actively vilified. Which lends itself to behavior like this as U.S. soldiers 'police' Arab nations:<br /><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xH9xSHcFreY&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xH9xSHcFreY&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br />The same dynamic plays out for anyone vilified well enough:<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qITFrGhg2S4&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qITFrGhg2S4&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/frL6rRbGAdw&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/frL6rRbGAdw&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/37Q5cDj1zL4&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/37Q5cDj1zL4&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qU4lg4oZV7Y&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qU4lg4oZV7Y&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><br />The news outlets have access to information not privy to the public, but outlets answer to the federal government. Where does the power lie to change these views? What keeps change from surfacing?<br /><br />"Each news outlet, whether its FOX News or MSNBC has resorted to preaching to its own choir as opposed to objectively presenting the news. Meanwhile, ethnic media sites have also penetrated the marketplace, offering yet another alternative to the mainstream news. While this has resulted in a more diverse media landscape, especially for minority communities who have for years felt underrepresented and largely ignored by the mainstream media, it comes at a cost. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">That cost: Collectively we are not coming to the table with an established set of facts.</span> Based upon the outlets we frequent, we are getting divergent information, and there is a growing uncertainty on whether there is an objective truth anymore. <span style="font-weight:bold;">The other cost: We are quickly devolving into various tribes as opposed to one electorate.</span> <br /><br />You could argue those tribes have always existed. And you would be right. But my point is that the current state of American journalism is furthering that gap as oppose to shrinking it."<br /><br />"There's no doubt that polarization matters,” said David Wilson, a political psychologist. “The problem with the news media is it all depends on your perspective.”-- Devona Walker @theloop21.com<br /><br /><br />Which brings this expose to a close on one truth: Citizens are being led to separate conclusions by the media. Which brings us to one question, the same question: why? The answer: to force consent. <br /><br />In none of the police brutality videos does anyone say "no" to them, even though they know what is happening is illegal. Somehow, the people find a way to submit. How can all these different people around the world be influenced to consent to being beaten? How can all of these different people around the world don a uniform be influenced to beat, maim, torture, and kill? Programming:<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7LVsiP0s33A&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7LVsiP0s33A&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br />Remain Villains--F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-6369861249053908462010-05-02T20:10:00.000-07:002010-05-02T20:26:52.869-07:00Reflect on my EternalThese feelings, emotions - hard to describe it/<br />And me, I'm a scribe and/<br />This thing is primal, tribal, insightful/<br />Cuz you as cute as Fieval, delightful, likeable/<br />A-Alike for life, it's fun to be just like you/<br />I love your dark skin and hair - and how your smile lights you/<br />From every different angle/<br />Our souls are tangled, never to be pulled apart, estranged, mangled/<br />Your voice in my ear is like the clanging of bangles/<br />To the touch: soft-hot, like hell birthed an angel/<br />But heaven works within you, how could I contain you?/<br />The distance between us - gets pretty painful/<br />But the sun shines behind you like a pretty rainfall/<br />There ain't enough words to say all/<br />Pictures to display all/<br />Poems to explain all/<br />Near you, I stay awed/<br />Audiences say, "Awww..."<br />My love eternal, who I would slay for/<br />You're a flower...a river...a rainbow/F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-78833988340694503202010-04-19T07:33:00.000-07:002010-04-19T07:59:44.504-07:00Here Comes Everybody (4th book)I do not like this book at this preliminary juncture. Perhaps I am being too stand-offish. I should say first that I commend Clay Shirky for documenting the effect current technology has on the generation gap and the new society birthed from said effect. However, there is so much societal history that is not accounted for in Shirky's book. The class stratification in the Americas and the consequent differences in access to information, these are the important caveats that work against the urgency of Shirky's argument that the changes in society stem from the changes in communication. Not including history in "changes in society" defeats itself as history tends to repeat itself, regardless of technological advances. Hopefully reading on will change my feelings about the book. We will see.<br /><br />-- Literary Villainy..F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-347214978697076434.post-11730277181350175862010-04-18T20:38:00.000-07:002010-04-18T21:04:56.892-07:00Everyday Hero..More than anything, a hero needs to overcome some impossible odds to meet their greatness. The everyday hero I chose can be visited on about any day at 512 w. 143rd st. in Harlem. He is the co-founder of The Brotherhood component of The Brotherhood-SisterSol nonprofit organization. His name is Khary, my brothers and I call him 'K'.<br /><br />Khary Lazarre White is a Harlem entrepreneur and philanthropist. However, his biggest and arguably most important title is as CEO of Brotherhood-SisterSol, an organization he started 15 years ago while still at Brown University.<br /><br />The non-profit program, which provides a holistic wrap-around service (social, educational, employment etc) for at-risk youth in Harlem, has an impressive success rate - 95 percent of its students are college graduates or working full time. To date, nearly 500 students have gone through the program. It's this statistic, helping to empower an astonishing number of young men and women of color to overcome impossible odds, that makes Khary a hero. Elevated to everyday status by continuing his work in the neighborhood he lives in, a buoyant solution moving with purpose in an ocean of problems.<br /><br />-- Of course a hero is the precursor to my villainy..F. Jeromehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05654796896877463657noreply@blogger.com1