"No man, woman or child can anticipate the impact or power of what I have been destined to deliver thru song, prose and film...by way of my Creator's blessings...given unto me: In My Lifetime." -Monty Jey
*SCENE I: "Look Up at the Stars"
...Oblivious. Oblivious to the fact that the very confines of time can become the source of a soul's demise. A slow, methodical death and a blink. And for many men, the thought never comes to pass that...
"the clock has no hands."
The clock has no hands...and as it stands, I know many-a-muthafuckas who truly don't know what time it is. I, no wonder - to subscribe to the topic of the Mayan calender, which illuminates the year 2012. Peg me no fool, however...I'm not ignorant enough to say it can't be true. I'm simply smart enough to know...
"NO MAN KNOWS the day or the hour"
...God will say He's had enough.
I'm not willing to touch on the Super Bowl and how the Saints marched in and smacked my beloved Colts in the grill. I'm not willing to retouch the subject of certain unnamed entertainers NOT responding on a social network, like Twitter. Not willing, becuz those subjects are so trivial...I could blink myself away and tomorrow, neither would matter. But I will touch on where people's hearts truly lie. And since I do consider myself an entertainer, among other things, I'm gonna link the subject with what I see from summa the very entertainers I happen to respect.
...and the ones I do not respect.
I take a look up at the stars on any given cloudless night. And what I see, bares no names like Shawn Carter. Or Sean Combs. Or Kanye West. I don't mean that disrespectfully. I happen to dig all three of those cat's music or business prowess (or both). What I'm saying is, now days...itz so easy to become a so-called "star", it kinda diminishes the meaning of the word, as we relate it to entertainment. Don't agree with me, I have two words for you:
"William Hung!"
I am a hip-hop artist, but I'm more of a throwback, mentally. I go back to - well before hip-hop. Back when, making music was for the purpose of building a quality catalog of solid, soulful records...that could & would stand the test of time. The mere thought of attempting to achieve such, today, in hip-hop - is so foreign to today's artists...the simple fact that I am even writing this would probably be laughable at best. And the irony would be this:
I know a man named Ahmir Thompson, better known as Questlove. A man whom my son shares the name Ahmir with (that was partly why I named him that). A man who I KNOW treats the art of making hip-hop records the exact same way Berry Gordy treated making records at Motown. And I have adopted that same sensibility and approach to the art of hip-hop. And that same mentality, when I am writing whatever it is I choose to write, creatively. And that same mindset, when I have been cast as a character in a film. To me, it is the attention an artist pays to WHAT they're creating that makes them a "star". Because, when the finished product is delivered...the attention paid to the art translates so vividly. Itz what makes an album like Things Fall Apart a fuckin' classic.
So...why am I saying all this shit?
I say it because, as I am literally looking at the landscape of hip-hop today...I can feel itz pulse. It is alive. But.......................there's a lotta unfocused shit happening in hip-hop. Seems most rappers are more interested in making a hit song than they are, a solid album. More interested in being blogged about...(LOL)...than making sure their live show is top notch. More interested in being at the hottest parties...than staying on top of their business (even IF you have a manager, you STILL need to be on top of YOUR business).
"Look up at the stars."
I am a hip-hop emcee. I am college educated with 2 degrees, yet...there is a bullet wound on my right leg & scars from witnessing a childhood friend murdered before my eyes. I possess no fronts. A 2-sided coin.....yet, not so complex to be misunderstood. I do not claim to be hard. Or gangsta. Or a thug. I keep it real, but not to the point where reality intersects with entertainment at the crossroads of...
"no return."
I stand for honesty in my lyrics...whether itz shining the spotlight on my own shortcomings, flaws, faults and/or weaknesses........or I'm exposing yours. I'm looking up in the sky tonight & I see the stars. And though I appreciate and admire...even though I admit to being a fan of a handful of emcees in the rap game....when I look up in the stars, ain't nunna y'alls names written on 'em. When I look up in the stars, I see the sheer beauty of what God has created. I see another blessed day that has become a cold, winter night in Naplantis. I see my own face, created by the alignment of those stars. I am blessed........and it is...
Time for me to introduce myself to y'all.
RE:Newed, Daily...
*SCENE II: "The Corner of My Mind"
NOTE: This prelude to a poem I'm writing, entitled "The Corner of My Mind" is factual fiction written and based on fictitious facts
On the corner where the tired and poor don't fight no more, is where I reside in hiding. On the corner where my father lost his way in the cracks of the pavement. Enslavement, perhaps. On the corner where niggas forgot how to smile and love. So they view me like the very bitches I despise. From lies.
My 1st child was aborted before I was told. Told after the fact that the deed was already complete. God bless the child who would have been, 12 years young. I'm heartless now. If life is a bitch, she's hoeing for me. IF, life is a bitch, she's fuckin' for fees. I'm more cold hearted then, than I am now, because now - I'm just made of stone.
But on the corner I was taught to pray for my brother. Same corner, where I was told to disrespect my mother. On the corner where a lesser man would loathe and lust her. Same corner, where I'd never trust her...til she's gone.
And when the words are never said shit gets misread. Unborn babies grow dead and birthed babies ain't fed. We go from queens and kings to bitches and pimps, pussies and dicks and both genders walk wit a limp. I checked my mirror, cuz I was tryna see ME clearly. In search of undefined reasons why she'd think that she fears me.
But in truth............it ain't really me that she fears. She simply fears the heartbreak and the rapture of tears. Every story she ever hears was passed down from her tree. So I don't blame her for standing on the corner, tryna be: Free...
Like me.
Copyright © 2010 by Monty Jey
-WhoIsMo.Jey...?
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