*NOTE: THIS BLOG is LENGTHY...But Heavy/Good
"I presented my feminine side with flowers/ She cut the stems and placed them gently down my throat/ And these two lips might soon eclipse/ Your brightest hopes." -Saul Williams
*SCENE 1: "Dead Nigga Boulevard"
...Just as fast as you HAD your present thought, you lost it. And itz simply...
"On to the next one."
Just as sure as you HAD your past lover......something broke. Maybe it was communication...(key). Maybe it was remembering how to appreciate that person and just having fun being with them in the moments y'all shared...(crucial). Or maybe it was remembering how to keep sex dynamic and lively...(vital). Or maybe...somebody just stopped caring as much as the other person...
"Fail."
Just as sure as the heart beats.........just as certain as the night sky gutted THIS day of itz light...I, Mo.Jey, have seen it.
"I seen it before."
I seen it with my own eyes. And.....and I think I loved you, but then......I think I don't. Or maybe I do, but I bet you won't. Thas the "toss and turn" of my right mind at war with my left mind. And.....and just like close encounters...
"...of a fucked up kind"
I time my line and RE-remember the exact reason I was even sent to earth, to begin with. My reflection in the mirror is me, in reverse. But, my eyes see clearly every time I walk by the quiet woman with the 3 or 4 kids in the grocery store. Or the thrift shop.
Our eyes meet........and for that one moment, frozen in time......I see her dispair and her pain....like...
"LORD how did I get this point?"
One anonymous moment in time. No words need be spoken. I see my mother in her eyes. And though I'm an only child.......I know her story and the story of those 3 or 4 children, all too well. So I smile. Not to flirt......this shit is PAST that level.
I smile...cuz I see my mother as a young woman, trying to make it in this world......in this woman's eyes. I see a glimmer of hope in her eyes. So I smile, because...quite honestly - most of the niggas she's met don't GENUINELY smile at her. Like in that way that says...
"Sista...WE got your back!"
I smile simply to let her know.......sum of us cats out here - care about her in ways that have nuthin to do with wanting her number, wanting to get with her or sex. Itz a smile that says.....you're a woman.....and I'm a man......and we BOTH...
"Strugglin' to survive in THIS bitch!"
...but you can make it thru just like I can. Yes........I seen it. I seen it before, a trillion times. The coolest, most pussy gettin'ness dude in my high school...is now an outta his mind space invader who will rob his own MAMA to smoke crack. And the FINEST chick in high school...is now a drunk who fucks men and women, depending on who shows her the most money.....and provides her with the most attention. I ain't knockin' what any person DOES........but I will say, they are the residents of...
"Dead Nigga Boulevard"
The same streets I grew up on.......I wouldn't allow my kids to go anywhere near 'em. Thas REAL! Dead Nigga Boulevard...........I seen it before. Lil' hot ass teenage girls out walkin' the streets at a quarter til midnight, sum as young as 12 (pre-teen or younger) or 13....dressing and acting like they ready to fuck! Yeah......I said it like that. I said it EXACTLY the way I witness it going down. And then these teenage boys......BOYS, who either DON'T have fathers or they do...and the fathers don't care enough to tell 'em to...
"PULL UP YO GOTDAMN PANTS!"
These kids...running around, like lil' punks. I say "pussified".........becuz they walk around in packs of no less than 3......lookin' as hard as they possibly can. Not cuz they're REALLY-truly gully! But becuz deep down inside......they're scared to fuckin' DEATH of what the world will show their fragile asses if they roll alone.
"I don't TRAVEL w/no entourage, period!"
Dead Nigga Boulevard...where grown ass men be tryna holla at 13 and 14 year-old little girls...and they be PROUD of that shit! Quiet as itz kept......you dead beat ass dads MIGHT wanna watch that......cuz you might fuck around and be hollerin' at a 14 year-old girl that turns out to be your OWN damn daughter.
"I seen it.......I seen it before!"
As Amel Larrieux once stated: "Is there nothing, sacred anymore?"
We often times get together to try to solve the problem(s) of what's plaguing the black community. And believe me - I dig the dialogue. But.....when will we start WORKING at fixing what's wrong with us??? Most rich black people (NOT all) ain't Reeeeeeeeeally-REALLY trying to help other black folks who have ideas or who are TRULY trying...
"TRUST...I've SEEN IT before" (they KNOW who they are...RUN tell THAT shit!)
Like........I got a business idea...and you got the means to invest......but you so amused by your own "success"....you ain't even thinkin' about helping your BROTHA! NO....I ain't saying you obligated to help EVERYBODY...
"M.C. Hammer...God Bless him"
...but 1 or 2 people...c'mon man. ESPECIALLY if itz a family member that you KNOW is out here busting their ass to try to make it! Like....one of my things is....when my film production company gets rolling......I wanna direct 1 film per year......and THEN produce a film per year for an unknown director....plus develop screenplays for UNKNOWN screenwriters. Why?
Simply because I KNOW what itz like to NOT have someone believe in what you are trying to create. Sometimes.......a simple assist can be the difference between a person continuing to believe in themselves VS. giving up and maybe even killing themselves. But the catch is.......I wanna produce these films for unknown directors...and stay the HELL outta their spotlight. No interviews for me....interview that director. Or those actors. Or the screenwriter. But NOT me as the producer. Becuz, ultimately, I'm doing what GOD wants me to do.....and my reward comes after I leave here.
(I'm on a roll...sorry so long)
Itz like my music...........my shit is all the way delayed! I ain't ashamed........I don't have the finances to be paying hundreds of dollars for studio time.....not when I'm trying to feed my family. I've even told a few cats.......man - if the mixtape is 21 joints and I sell it for $7 or $8......if you allow me to record it and you mix it.....you get HALF of every sell until I get u paid. And I OVERSTAND everybody wants to make money...NEEDS to make money! But not one person has said...
"Man, I know what itz like to be where you are.....and I'ma help you get yo shit recorded."
I thought about giving up for a half of ONE second - last week. Just all out, FUCK MUSIC.....I'll never get shit out! But then I thought about when I let my 3 kids hear the EDITED version of "Therapy (For Cell)" which is supposed to be on my mixtape disc.......and how excited they were to hear "daddy's song". So excited that my middle child Ahmir went to church singing...
"Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha, LOL on the screen" (one of the lines in the song)
...and itz THAT reaction - that let's me know I can't quit! Cuz in essence, to quit, is to give up on a dream. Just like many of the cats I see - who reside on Dead Nigga Boulevard. And in that.............the smile I give to a sista or even a brotha - to let them know...they are NOT alone and to keep fighting for your dreams and what YOU believe in. That smile I give...if I were to quit....would be my greatest contradiction.
And I ain't dead yet...
*SCENE 2: "SING, The Honey Bee's Sting..."
(Off the top of my head poetry)
There's no contract for a held breath
And death don't come in 3's
Or in nigga pleas
"Please"
So if you freeze the moment
You will forever BE: free: falling
With no one to catch you at the bottom
And no one to pull you back
To the place where you firmly stood
Sinking in the quick sands of time
As we...
"SING, the honey bee's sting"
For the freedom ring's tone
Becuz it don't quite fit the finger
Right.......or left
Where the the last breath snickered
At your caramel coated dreams
While holding itz nuts
"Exhale"
Becuz ex-hell causes you to rebel yell
In the loudest whispers
And muted pitches for the curved dick
Life is a bitch spittin' fuckery
Over broken beats and warped snares
But hey piano man
Sing a little song for me
"SING, the honey bee's sting"
As freedom rings, round Saturn
Nocturnal, like texting the S-O-S
On my cell
With no therapy to anoint the muse
Annoyed, dazed and confused
By the last heartbeat
Which finds life and death
Before the next second wept
Sweet Jesus
We're sanctified and profane
Simultaneously
But we never catch the same beat
Cuz you cannot see the way my eyes see
Or breathe the air my lungs breathe
But you can...
"SING, the honey bee's sting"
From memory
Cuz surely, you've lost love
On a two way street
But it never found itz way home to your dreams again
Cuz THAT muthafucka got run over
On a highway
We tried to EQ the words of what we felt
But the decibels were too low to sound off
And ain't no 808's gon' lockdown love
So every breath you take
Becomes the very heartbreak
You was tryna to shake
When you first met me...
(And now......he's gone)
Written by Monty Jey for JeyMo's Precious Child Publishing Ink™. Copyright © 2010 by T. LaMonte Jenkins.
-Who IS Mo.Jey...?
Copyright © 2010 by Monty Jey.
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