Mourning Glory

In a selfish bottle, trapped in our own pretentious minds, with all the suffering in the world around us, thoughts of personal gain trump any intention of selflessness, reflect upon yesterday's deeds, examine the wrong and right in black and white, apply that lesson to the coming day, to see what good may bring you color © D.W. Palma 2015

"Interlude - Finding the Red Path"

The Following Is a True Story - I hope that by sharing this, some will also be inspired to make positive change:

 

I have a different religion than most. I believe there is a Creator, and  though I refer to it as Grandfather, it is neutral - dual creation. This religion requires one to appeal to Grandfather and the Spirits for guidance in times of trouble. I had gotten so far away from the Red Path these last few years that I tried to shut it down; there is something to belief in a higher power. I think about how I found myself in places that brought about unforgettable experiences with people that are still a part of me. I see how they will cause things to come - some things are more than coincidence.

There is no such thing as rock bottom. There is always another low and things can always get worse. Madness is an abyss. The real issue here is to what extent low becomes to a person to where s/he is forced to decide to drop the weights, swim for oxygen and fight for survival, or embrace the burden, sink and drown. Life and death are sometimes personal decisions. Every now and then, however, the oxygen supply never runs out. It seems as though some of us are born with gills. We try to drown but we keep on sinking.

The life path is sometimes about other paths we need to cross or how we influence the outcome of this matrix. Whether big or small, there are things we need to do in life. We are stuck until we accomplish that purpose, whether we want to be here or not. I tried several times the last five years to check out - more than I admitted to psychiatrist or loved ones. I hit several lows but managed to swim for air. Sometimes it seemed like I had no choice.

The last year and a half, however, were easily the worst of my life, yet, surprisingly brought a couple of the best moments with people that are now a part of me. But there was so much confusion - I found myself homeless sleeping in shelters and on the streets, hospitalized in psych wards, 51.50'd and 52.50'd, using Meth and Heroin, having nervous breakdowns, and failing in my attempts to check out. I thought about how my friends and people from back in the day would see me, how they would judge me. I thought about the weights and burdens I carry, how they made my spirit weak. My two best friends that passed young  - one who was murdered in front of his pad, and the other who died of a flu just as it seemed his life turned for better. My father who chose to drink himself to death instead of putting down the bottle and having a relationship with his three sons. Everything I tried to do and failed badly, every woman I loved who rejected me. I thought about all this.

I tried to embrace the weight and drown but found myself breathing as I sank and sank. Not coincidentally I ran into a Navajo one day as I went to the dope spot to score some Black. As we talked I mentioned that I had gotten away from my circle and wanted to find my way back. I explained that I needed uwepi to help me heal, but that I was having a hard time reconnecting with my circle. I had turned away from Creator and my circle for atheism, but my spirit had become really sick. He explained that an Indian doesn't need a circle to find his way back to the Red Path. An Indian needs to get back on the horse, confront personal demons and stay close to Grandfather. Always put your life in the hands of Grandfather, he explained.

The next two weeks were somewhat strange. I planned a couple of times how I would check out, but then received texts out of nowhere from that Native American both times, encouraging me to confront my demons and put my life in the hands of Creator. Somehow, I found myself in a house where I was by myself and thought about how nothing in my life had worked and decided I had enough - I was ready to leave. I called a couple of people to say goodbye and opened up my veins. I prayed to Creator and the Spirits to see me to the other side. Creator responded.

My veins kept clogging rapidly. I got phone calls from people far away I that I didn't tell. I sat in the shower waiting to pass out, bleeding. Then the police came. I was taken to the hospital and kept for a week.
 I talked to my best friend and she was hurt by my decision and couldn't understand why I would do that to her - she was going through some things herself and didn't need that as well. I got a visit from my brother who had just himself come out of hard places. He told me some things I needed to hear. I then questioned why I was still alive during my hold, but realized Creator wasn't ready to release me from my obligations on this earth during my time here. I wasn't allowed.

The day I was released I was calm and unsure of what would come but things just fell into place. I was given a bus pass that got me as far as one destination, but didn't have the fare to get to my mother. At that station I was trying to figure it out; I used the restroom and when I came out I was standing in front of a smiling cousin. We were going the same way to see our mothers. I needed fare, which he was happy to give, he needed a loving friend - his mother was sick. I got to my mother's just as she and my sister pulled up. I stayed the night with family. Some things are more than coincidence.

The next day I went with my other brother and the aforementioned cousin and sister hiking in the canyons. I caught myself walking ahead and praying quietly as I picked sage on the trail. I felt a peace I hadn't felt before. Creator and the Spirits were smiling upon me. That was two weeks ago. I caught myself this last week falling back into darkness, feeling myself sinking as I was uncertain of what was to come. I had a disagreement with my best friend and later felt bad for not helping her with her issues after she had helped me with mine. I burned some sage and asked for help from Creator. The answer that I felt came with a feeling of inspiration from words a friend from college gave me not long ago - take ownership of what you have to offer; I had helped many people along the way. One of my strengths is my undying love for others - even though I could not love myself, I would stop at nothing to help those I love. I was so blinded by my failures in life and my shortcomings that I was not focused on my successes and strengths. That is why I hated myself - that is why I felt worthless.

I have been praying these past few days and will try to do it everyday. Sometimes, if you try to rescue a drowning person, you will drown with them. I am one of the few people that was blessed with gills, and I have sank to the depths that others sink towards. True, there are others that have been deeper in the abyss than I have been, but they are also blessed with the ability to help those that are drowning. More so than I. There may come a time, after I have accomplished what I was put here to do, where I will have a bad day and shut it down and Grandfather will allow me to cross over. With my two mental illnesses (which I will not say what they are), this is very possible. But in the meantime I now know that there is something to a higher power. There are many forms of them, and I encourage those without one to seek one and put their lives into whatever it may be. We are all different and we all believe different. All religions work.
Tlazokomate!
Aho!


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Manic Depression

And so the reality is here - you're one of those people, dependent on meds,
reflecting on the last appointment - everything that you said,
hoping that another hold won't lead to commitment,
and watching what you say during therapy treatment,
is this what you have to look forward to? jumping through hoops?
and outpatient sessions with strangers in groups?
you look all around, your head hurts, there's a lot heard,
and feel out of place - this kind of sharing is beyond awkward,
from the facilitator comes the question, why did you use dope?
you search for the best way to say the pain was deep,
outside undemonstrative, crying quietly inside as you make your confessions,
and trying to glean lessons from these sessions for manic-depression,
supposedly the facilitators are just like you,
but you can't help but question what they have been through,
if they've been on the streets and did things that they regretted,
or floundered with no direction, uncertain of where they were headed,
this reality, now, such a burden to bear,
with preponderance, sometimes, is it worth it to care?
if you dared, with the courage, find some way to end this plight,
you would be challenged of your right to take the fatal flight,
but the highs and the lows, and simultaneous episodes,
are eating you alive from inside, how could they possibly know?
they'll never truly understand how much you just want it to end,
and checking out of this hotel won't make you any less a friend.

Poisonous

I saw you from a distance with that stranger from your past,
They say time heals old wounds but I never recovered,
               I probably never will,            

This whirlwind of emotions that covets my soul is a never ending episode of highs and lows,
And just when I feel strong again you come back,
This is insanity,
I let you back in with little resistance,
This is insane,
You say sweet things to make me care again,
I am crazy,
Much as I deny, deny, deny, I reluctantly accept that I am still in love,
What to do?
I see the bottle of booze, the smoke, the black, the white,
The good and the bad are both one and the same,
What to do?
The pills I take are supposed to provide stability,
They help when there is no poison,
And in your eyes I see love,
And in my eyes I have resignation,
This will never end,
I can't stop that which I have no control,
How I wish we had never met,
                    and still,

When we find time to kick it there is no measure of Time,
I am alive with passion, love and driven with determination,
Motivated by a hypothetical future,
If I could only convince her that I am the one,
But no amount of courage could see me through the end,
Persistence is futile,
I lie in the fetal position under trees while the rain is my comfort,
Soon I will sleep,
Soon it will be over,
Soon I will have peace over love.

Among The Hedges

An early morning flower releases her perfume
 as she rises with the sun, smiling,
people pass by and admire her beauty,
the gift to the world is her mere presence,
And though many desire to take her home,
none would dare disturb such a remarkable anomaly.

You and Me

I may not come home tonight, I may not come back until early morning if at all,
You know this lifestyle, you chose it with me, you know what comes with it,
And if I didn’t have you, could I say that I would still be alive and free?
Can I say that my freedom and life will be guaranteed?
I live wild – nothing will tame me and you’ll never change me,
Yet I have cause lately to want to rise above the circumstances,
And take us beyond the streets, to someplace proper,
You love me passionately but hold back because I hold back,
I don’t have your heart completely because I haven’t completely given myself to you,
But I want to take care of you, I want to show you there is more to this world,
I have caught a glimpse and I see your longing to leave this place behind,
Between the two of us there is nothing we cant accomplish,
Stay focused, stay positive, stay hustling to achieve our goals,
No more nights worrying about me getting shot or busted,
No more worries about our place on the track, you and me will get up outta here,
Let’s get off our asses and make it happen!

Justifiable Homicide

"'It was only the second day of the third month since being released from R Triple C. Mike Whitlock looked around the parking lot and decided it was safe to approach his vehicle. He strolled down the stairs and across the way towards his 1977 sedan. A strange vibe overcame his sense of well being, however, and that's when he noticed the shadows - one behind the trunk of his car behind the bushes, and the other two cars over, behind the passenger side. He stopped dead in his tracks, and that's when the fellow behind the two cars over ran up.Whitlock saw the man emerge from the shadows and ran back towards his apartment -unit 203, right up the stairs. He said he felt the first shot and kept up the stairs, then, as he reached the top, felt the second shot. He claims to have blacked out, hearing a volley of gunfire and remembering nothing. At least, that's his story and he's sticking to it.'
    'You don't think that's what happened?' Detective Patrick asked his partner Detective Samuels.
    'It just doesn't add up. Okay - we know that Whitlock came down the stairs shooting. We know he caught the first suspect in the chest. He went down right away, dies a couple hours later in the ER. We know he chases the second to the dumpster where they get into a ferocious shootout. Somehow he empties his clip. Suspect empties his clip. Both are shooting it out and our victim comes out ahead with a lucky shot to the head. Okay. I get it. But why lie about it? He keeps insisting that he didn't fire one shot, when ballistics and ICU have both confirmed otherwise. It's justified. He isn't going to get into any legal trouble. Why lie about it? That's what bothers me.'
    'You think he's lying?'
    'You don't?'
    'I don't know what to think. I can't figure it out. I know he thinks he is telling the truth, but I'm not sure about anything else. Let's say he doesn't have any recollection. Perhaps he doesn't remember pulling the trigger. It may be one of those self preservation things where the mind blocks out whatever might get the person in trouble. If that's the case it seems feasible that he gets scared, runs into his apartment shot and bleeding, gets his pistol and comes out shooting. He catches the first one on the stairs, the other, still shooting, realizes his partner is finished and tries to high-tail it out of there. He runs away behind the dumpster, changes his clip, and counter-attacks the victim, whom is now pursuer. Victim gets the best of him anyways, runs back to the apartment, where his girlfriend, fresh on the scene, calls 911.'
    'Makes sense to me!'
    'Then what's the problem?'
    'It keeps coming back to the same question - why lie about it? It's justified.Even assuming we can get him on something for chasing after the second suspect, that's most likely nullified because the suspect keeps shooting at him. He's not going to get into any trouble, so why keep the don't trust the police attitude alive? I want to close the case on this. Scumbags got what they deserved. I just don't get it! It really annoys me - maybe it shouldn't but it does.'
    'You read too much into it. This guy is outta jail three months and on probation - and even though he's been good about staying outta trouble, he doesn't know if you're gonna ship him upstate whether he feels he is justified or not. For him it's just business. I'm sure in the back of his head he thinks he could beat this if he has a good lawyer, but look at him. Does he look like he can afford a lawyer?'
    'No.'
    'Exactly. Don't take it personal. He just wants to keep his ass out of jail. Give him a break.'
    'You're right. Let's just figure out how to smudge this paperwork so we don't have to jerk with it later.'


    Tina went to see Mike in his room. She kissed his forehead and took his hand, kissing it first, then pressing it to her bosom, 'My love, are you okay?'
    'The police asked me some questions.'
    'What did you say?'
    'Don't worry baby, I didn't say anything. All I said was foos started shootin' at me so I ran back to my house, got shot twice and collapsed at my front door. I didn't say a word about you.'
    'Do you think they'll come after me?'
    'Hell naw! I heard them talkin. They wanna close the case. They think I did it so they're ruling it a justifiable homicide.'"

Honor Life

For those that were at my side and are here no longer,
I have no qualms, they are my sisters and brother, always,
To honor the dead means to live on their behalves,
Better to celebrate their lives than to weep at their passing,
And die living as opposed to live dying,
Every loss makes every gain more precious,
For as long as we still have our circles we have love,
And as long as we have goals we have chances,
Comfort comes from remembering and continuing on,
Would they have us quit at their departures?
Surely as I have life and breath I have them in my heart,
And surely as I recall their endeavors I feel their warmth,
The adventures we shared will be told and retold over drinks
and merriment as we toast to their spirits and deeds, good and bad,
Laugh at the mishaps for guilt is the enemy,
Smile at their tombstones and ashes for you are proof they were here,
Carry them with you and cry if you must, but keep it short,
Chin up for you have the burden of living,
They would have you accomplish that which they can no longer,
To those that were at my side and have passed away,
Have no qualms for you remain at my side,
And you are my brothers and sisters, always.

The Will To Exist

When we are born we grab life, when we die we let go. This ebb and flo finds consistency with all organisms, big and small, advanced and simple, docile and aggressive, floating on a hydrogenous ball in an orbit around a red star in the cosmos, impervious to the world outside this atmosphere. Death is indifferent, life is random, emotions come and go. Immortal soul is nothing more than the will to exist. We attempt to comprehend the variables that come into our zones, but comprehension is nothing more than subjective perception. We cannot comprehend non-existence so we rationalize our resistance to the inevitable. We create gods and religions and collectively impose our willpower until we achieve the impossible. Miracles are a product of such belief that we call it faith. Faith is resistance to the explicable. It should be something of such positivity that if it were directed towards a common goals of good, humankind could achieve interstellar greatness. Instead, belief systems conflict, negative reactions prevail and war is unleashed. Homosapiens destroy everything in the way during this process - forcing others to let go as they become slaves to their emotions. Slaves fighting over control of the hydrogenous ball in an orbit around a red star in the cosmos. The will to exist is a natural instinct even amongst those who wish to destroy their own current life form. The will itself is the most powerful of our senses, working in conjunction with the conscious mind to accomplish. Billions of actions take place through nerves and bioelectricity, commands to the lungs, heart, eyes, ears and mouth. Existing is the culmination of all these commands to which we are oblivious. The will to exist makes it all possible. Perhaps there is something to ghosts if our desire to continue is so powerful that it does not wish to break down into simple matter long after the body has expired and let go. Perhaps there is something to reincarnation if the will to exist can break itself down in such a way that it can be absorbed into the procreative process. Who knows such things? All that is certain is that we are born, we grab on, we die and we let go, we live and we achieve that which our wills command. Existing blindly on a hydrogenous ball in an orbit around a red star in the cosmos.

The Institution

Ali was locked up with Epitaph and Protege. They shared a two man cell in a certain California Penitentiary that cannot be disclosed. Ali was doing 37 years for a homicide that happened 12 years ago. None but he knew the details of what happened, as he would not speak of it and did not fight his case, as was his right. All anyone knew was that it was over a woman.

Protege was down for 5. He had 8 left on an armed robbery, but only because he had money for a lawyer. Epitaph was washed with a triple life sentence - he pleaded no contest in order to avoid the death penalty after a home invasion went sour, resulting in the death of one of his partners and three dealers in the dopehouse. His driver left once he heard the shooting.

"Looking back, 'twas a mistake to go in with an untested driver. Regardless of how one may think that loyalty lies beneath the breastplates of one's kin, family does not have relevance when it comes to crime. He looked the part, to be sure - tattoos, bald head, intimidating groom and attire. Undoubtedly his stare was practiced in the looking glass same as the rest of his appearance. He talked the part loudly, which should have given away his lack of heart and yet because he was my blood, because he has the pedigree of our clan, our roots deep in murk of the slums where the reputation and words of our heritage precede our actionability, I believed him worthy of even the menial yet important task of escape. His prowess at the wheel I do know well, many a time when the safety of our freedom was not at risk he showed superior agility in even the heaviest of traffic and vessel. Whence the volley of thunder commenced and combat ensued, my weapon discharged every cartridge, some of which found their way in two hearts of the men of whose place of residence we raided. My companion Keys, my ace-boon and brother not of my blood fought heartily as a champion come to claim his prize! Aye, he was a true warrior and friend, and though he smote the remaining mark whose only weapon was a measly .22 calibre pistol, one round found and severed an important artery, and my friend was mortally wounded. As we took our plunder as quickly as possible, Keys found himself weakening. T'will be alright, I assured him, we will get you medical attention. Have no fear for Chuck Bonnie, prince in our family shall lead us to safety. I helped my dying comrade outside only to find that we had been abandoned to adversity. I had no choice - I stood with my brother as he died in these arms. There was no cause to fight as I had no effective means, depleted of rounds, my wingman slain with no flight to safety, surrender was my only option. I have the rest of eternity to sit, rotting within these walls built for two, at the bottom of a three-man bunk. I shall perish here, watching men come and go, fighting insanity and desperate inmates. You two I consider my friends and there will come the time when one will take the place of another, and shall I carry on in such a peaceful and cooperative manner with the next man? Methinks it far better that a skilled warrior enter these walls after the two of you leave and slit my throat as I lie sleeping. I could not stand the idea of either of my friends bearing witness to my demise, nor the endangerment of your scheduled release. I have nothing but time to consider my past until then."

Protege looked upon Ali, whom despite appearing asleep with eyes wide open on the top rack, had taken every word with deep consideration. He sat on the toilet and spoke to Epitaph, who by now lie on his place on the bunk at the bottom rack, "Epitaph, thou hast been a considerable host from the time of my arrival, and I expect nothing more until the day of my release. Thou art as close to a friend as one may have under such circumstances. I beg your pardon for what I am about to say, as I mean no disrespect, but methinks your perspective too - how should I put it? Abilities are at times obscured by the consequences of which none are able to change. Yet, all are able to glean wisdom from mistakes and pass that along to those who may listen. Will thy eternity be spent on remembering the erroneous and learning nothing from it? Will no book be read on history, no philosophy find comparison to the actions that have brought thee to such justice that no lesson will be taught? Thou hast the ability to grow wise and teach those who would pass through this stale structure of steel and concrete. Without realizing, I have learned much from thy brooding and recollection. I shall be released some day and so shall Ali, of whom he may say little, yet has he also the same opportunity for lesson and wisdom alike. I look to the future. I shall think many times over any consequence that may arise from situations where temptation to take from the next pile may find presence of my company. Never again will prison be my fate. I have learned these lessons from the words that echo through these walls. These halls patrolled by guards that have neither emotion nor regard for the welfare of the inhabitants herein, these cells built to house two at a time with bunks modified to sleep three are only the first of many beuracratic accomodations to the mistakes that young and stupid make on a daily basis. Two meals per day will soon be one. The young are not learning outside and like myself, will have found wisdom only in this institution of corrections. My friend, thou hast taught many lessons without intending. Thy war stories are parables with application to a man who will find himself in the slums soon after his release, however, with such knowledge I will rise from the muck to a higher station. I look to the future, and advise thee to do the same so that thou may teach those who would teach. I shall be released and I shall teach those, that they may avoid this place. What sayest thou, Ali? Hast thou learned nothing from our friend Epitaph? Wilst thou lie in silence or concur?"

Ali blinked twice, closed his eyes then spoke, "Aye. Plenty I have learnt within these walls. Plenty I have learnt from my friends and companions herein. Nothing I have found to be of application, however. My crime is not of murder - I have thought this through many times. My crime is that of love. Hast thou Epitaph, hast thou Protoge learnt of the details of this cursed incarceration?"

Epitaph replied "Nay, I have no knowledge of the details of what brought you here."

Protege added, "I know simply that it was over a woman."

Ali continued, "Aye. T'was over a woman. I loved her with all my heart, and foolishly I continue to love her. I have divulged no information to anyone, not even at my own trial. I stood no chance before the eyes of the law and was judged harshly by the jury of twelve. I did not want her name nor honor trashed about as sewage in the mouths of others of whom no understanding would come. An extortionist came to her with a secret from her past."

Epitaph interrupted, "My friend, 'tis not necessary to divulge such secrets."

"Nay. 'Tis high time I spoke on it. Thou'rt both my friends, and I have knowledge no details shall leave these walls with your freedom. I want you both to know. You shall not know this secret, but the rest of the details shall you know."

Protege responded, "do continue friend."

"He threatened to divide our love by bringing forth this secret, with the assumption I would abandon her. He did not understand our love. She came with tears in her eyes and a tear in her heart. I did not know how to respond at first, however, I remained with poise and a clear head. I told her to tell the fiend that I knew of her past, that it did not matter - our love was too strong to be shredded by any miscue of youth. We would pay his ransom and he would leave us be. She did as I instructed; we paid his cost and thought ourselves free, as ever in love as before. Two-hundred twenty-three days passed and he came into contact again. This time he pledged to smear her name to all she held dear, every friend, relative and even petty acquaintance, co-worker and stranger he passed in traffic. He had upped his demands, requiring cash and sexual favors. I grew angry with rage. I agreed that we would meet at the inn on the outskirts of town. I told my beloved to pack her bags and leave town. She tried to reason, but knew I would not relent. Reluctantly she left to her parents' in Los Angeles. I grabbed my pistol-grip shotgun, five double-ought rounds and headed to the room. I knocked on the door and he let me in. He was strung out on heroine so badly that I don't think he realized I was armed. he turned his back and I let out every round.  There was nothing left but a headless stump. The secret is stained on the walls and floor of that room. Some say it was over a woman - this is not true. It was over MY woman! I hope to see her when I leave, but I don't know."

Epitaph asked, "Hast thou not heard any news? No letter, visit, nothing?"

"Nay. I have not seen her. No visit, no letter - she did not appear at any court date. I shall spend the rest of my time here thinking about her, as I have done many days already. I shall spend my freedom trying to find her. We shall be reunited."

Protege looked at Ali. He remained stretched out on his bunk, never once moving as he spoke. "Ali, she may have moved on. She may have put it all behind her and started anew. Thou hast been locked down for quite some time with no news. It is possible she has had one or two little ones by now."

Ali remained calm and undemonstrative. "'Tis possible. But I know our love is strong. She is the only thing that keeps me living, else I should have perished by now. I shall find worry of such things when they are found with her. Until then, I must keep on. Likewise, I think thou hast the right idea Protege. I will not teach, but will grow wise with Epitaph. The years will bring forth fish to form a school. And with our wisdom within these walls and your lessons outside, perhaps some good can come about. But I will pass on one important lesson: Lads, true love is worth everything. It is worth defending with one's life, with one's freedom. It is worth fighting and dying for, but most of all it is worth living for. That is the wisdom I shall pass on; I regret nothing."

This was the last time such a conversation was had amongst the three. All had learned from each other. Protege, true to his word, began to pass the lessons and wisdom from his older counterpart to the young of whom would listen. Epitaph and Ali found a new celly as young and teachable as Protege. Both grew wise, but only Epitaph would pass on his wisdom. By the time Ali was released, they had seen five younger inmates leave the walls to join in Protege's mission of teaching. Epitaph grew old and before he passed away, he noticed that the two man cells once again had only two inmates, some had only one. As for Ali, no one knew what became of him. Protege and Epitaph both heard rumors that he was alive and searching - it was believed that his spirit couldn't rest until he was reunited with his love.

Rule of the Meek

The best things in life are purchased with sacrifice,
Paid with blood, sweat and and a portion of our persona,
People and principals,
Poverty and affluence,
A man with honor will not dare sacrifice that in the face of adversity,
But what good are principals if they do not provide sustinence?
And where is the honor in allowing one's family to go hungry in such trials?
For the mother that would hustle her natural gifts to feed her young,
Or the workingman that would juke some rock to pay the utilities,

Is there no honor in providing if the cost be meritorious?
Would you, man or woman, allow yours to go without for the sake of preserving  your integrity?
Are your deities truly righteous that they would test you?
Watching above as spectators as you undergo tribulations?
Are they so omnipotent that they would have no compassion, no understanding  of your needs?
Is there no dichotomy in that reasoning?

Have no fear for what happens after this life,
This life is here and present,
Have no fear for how you are judged by your peers,
If there is no fault in the Masters in their decisions that affect millions in the pursuit of the ultimate bottom line,
Then there can be no fault in the whore who pays her bills, so that her children do not freeze in the depths of winter,
There must be no fault in the dopeman whose priority is the supermarket, where his proceeds ensure his young do not go hungry,
That is not to say that one should be inclined to sell out all that is virtuous for personal gain,
However compassion demands that we exercise reason for those who remember the rule of the meek,
Survival trumps everything and eating is surviving, breathing is diligence, righteousness is subjectve.

The Absurdity Of It All

Has it been over 12,000 years already?
When the time is right, perhaps  we  will understand a little better, but we have still not learned our lessons as of right now.  All our potential, all our abilities are tantamount to wasted talent. Man, have you still not figured out that war is juvenile and petty? Like kids at a playground fighting over rights to a sandbox or jungle-gym, our leaders squabble and bicker, point fingers, threaten and bully the weak; fighting over the stupedist shit. Where are the adults in the international forum, the U.N., or any of the three branches of American govenment? A president condemns the use of guns and violence at public schools, then sends UAVs, airstrikes, sorties and whatever else at the others, resulting in carnage worse than what he condemns - what hypocracy and cowardice!
Our leaders are YGs on the block, looking to assert their rep on the set - brandishing weapons at the rival blocks, who look to do the same. Punking the squares that look to mind their own business. Pimping the weaker nations out to the stronger nations. Strongarming, robbing, stealing and killing. Planet Earth has turned the Milky Way into a ghetto - the interplanetary dopespot, where humans look to expand their territories beyond the atmosphere. 3rd Rock Avenue pops off after dark - if there is life on other planets, they warn their young not to come down to the track. I can imagine they say something to the effect of "Muthafuckas on Earth be on one! Foos shoot anything that come too close to their borders - check out the transmissions from that planet. All they do is get their 'bang on! USA gang dont get along with Northside Korea. Eastside Europe pops off on Balkan Block. Neighborhood Israel Locos just don't give a fuck! You gotta watch your ass when you go down there."
Aren't we the advanced ape? We sent people into outer space - we have entered the space age. We can figure out what disasters wiped out what bodies of land. DNA testing is becoming more effective. We can clone, cure diseases and create technologies pleasing to the eyes, ears and soul. Our bodies are complex machines complete with supercomputers that put to shame the synthetic ones that we have mastered. We are capable and for the most part have a high IQ. We have mastered building, transportation, agriculture and industry - why then do we not grow the hell up? Our priorities are skewed.
With all we have accomplished and all we are capable of, we still can't let shit go. When our neighbors play the music too loud after midnight, we choose aggression over reason. We have words and arguments that we are more than willing to esculate to pushing and fighting, pumping our chest to assert our dominance as opposed to simply saying "what the fuck ever" and walking away. Extra-terrestrials are watching, waiting for us to grow up so that they can approach us without fear of what we may do. Hoping that we figure it out before we become a threat not only to ourselves, but to the rest of the galaxy, as our weapons and space travel technology improve. They have ample reason to fear us. Man and Woman equate to little boy and little girl, teenyboppers with guns and clicks. Finding improvements in destroying our own homes. Fighting over the stupidest shit. The absurtity of it all!

Mad World Flavor: The Swallows Place on Howe and Ed (back in the day...

Mad World Flavor: The Swallows Place on Howe and Ed (back in the day...: All day long we sleep or try, All night long we face the wry, Dreary dreams and half-fatigue, Playing in the druggers' league, This ...

The Swallows Place on Howe and Ed (back in the day)

All day long we sleep or try,
All night long we face the wry,
Dreary dreams and half-fatigue,
Playing in the druggers' league,
This life here doesn't pay for shit,
Up and down the cluckers hit,
Watch out for the fiends for sock,
Crystals, bundles, bags of rock
Brillo pads that filter crumbs,
Syringes for the liquid dumb,
Straws are rare for yuppie bliss,
broken lightbulbs sizzle-hiss,
Hand me money, take your prize,
Have no money, keep your lies,
What's your flavor, what's your fix?
Homeboy better watch your six,
The task rolls through here after dark,
A rival hunts you like a shark,
Hookers down the ave are lame,
But wannabes all want a name,
And crossing yours out on some bricks,
Or set you up for their next licks,
Will be the ticket for the ride,
Don't be a victim of a 'cide,
Everybody plays for keeps,
He who sows is he who reaps,
Don't ever think a fool won't blast,
This life we live put nothing past,
May look like sorry on his face,
You wouldn't think he'd catch a case,
But its your name he wants to erase,
He'll take your life in Swallows Place.

Pursuit In Dreams

I had a vision of my beloved,
Somewhere in the astral plane she appeared
                                    as a specter in a cellar,
Her radiance in the shadows,
                                  - a golden-red glow enshrouded
                                    in the mysteries of the ethereal,
Those features familiar against this backdrop surreal,
Soft, light mocha skin, cat-like caramel eyes, with hair
                                    the color of sandy beaches at
                                    sunset,

As I catch her gaze, she looks away, saying "I'm sorry,
                                     but I must take my leave",
She touches my face and skims my hair as I ask her
                                     when I may see her again,
She casts her eyes downward and a phantom appears
                                     with no discernible face, 
"I'll call you soon" she says softly then turns away,
My blood pulls forth a cold chill from this indifference,
I see her true intentions clearly,
Her weak reply not obscured by her plain pretty as she
                                       takes his hand and is led astray,
Disappearing through a doorway to a place I can't see,
My hesitation comes from sheer surprise at this setting,
I gather myself and proceed forward through the doorway
                                        to the unbeknownst in pursuit  of
                                        my love and find myself  on a
                                       grassy lot with a single house
                                       against a sky purple from dusk,
First stars shining,

I approach the house with apprehension,
Unsure of what awaits within,

I hear music playing - a familiar song from long ago,

And at close proximity I recognize the house from a distant
                                      memory lost to childhood,

Inside the house the visitors laugh and mingle,
Sipping cold cocktails with exotic names I can't pronounce,
This affair is some spectacle with each guest wearing the
                                      masks of peasants from the yuppie
                                      class and middle-aged college freshmen,
Their conversations consist of ads for high-tech gadgets and
                                      allusions to quotes from movies,
Simple smiles, sophisticated smirks,
I scan the room to no avail, a sullen stranger hands me ale and
                                         says "you'll see her in the attic, soon"

The music changes,
- A newer version of the prior song sung sometime in the 1960's,

Into the kitchen I make my way,
Finding stairs leading to the upstairs chambers,
I sip my bottle and ponder the possibilities,
Is she alone or with that faceless daemon doing whatever, however?
Is she even there at all?
The mysteries that await within explore at will beneath my skin,
I creep closer to that fiendish place
- feeling cold dread creeping up from behind as I make the ascent,
Insert the key and twist the knob slowly as I enter in,
Nothing but cobwebs coating furniture,
Senses numb,
Then I see it from the corner of my left eye and my heart jumps!
A shot of panic with adrenal chaser,

I turn and face the mirror my imagination pointed out,
I am not in the reflection,
In this image a spirit sits on a desk behind where I should be standing,
Wretched at first, then rising appears strikingly beautiful,
She takes two steps, then vanishes,
I look around and find myself on the same field as before,
No house, no mirror in sight,
Dark sky layering purple, red, yellow as dawn approaches,
Last two stars fading,
I take it all in finding rest on the grass,
This theatrical facade, odd indeed,
I clear my head, turning my attention to the east,
Soon the light will bring forth another day without my love.

189 Streetlife: Pollution

189 Streetlife: Pollution: All this pollution, Jet planes roar above spewing toxic chem trails, Pencil clouds that appear to vanish to the naked eye, Although we lo...

189 Streetlife: Wall Street

189 Streetlife: Wall Street: This black tie soiree, That begins with the closing of the day, Where one's reservations go astray, We've arrived here without delay, N...

189 Streetlife: Sloth

189 Streetlife: Sloth: When life is unacceptable we                       are strong in our pursuits and desires,  There is no contention in our souls,    ...

Sloth

When life is unacceptable we 

                     are strong in our pursuits and desires, 

There is no contention in our souls, 

                     we see our goals and work to meet them,

The power of tragedy is known

                     after life becomes acceptable,

For we simply abandon our dreams

                     believing that there is nothing more, 

How can it be that we have all this

                     potential and yet we fall victim

To demons of our invitation, 

                     vices that grow beyond our control,
So dangerous it is to accept
                     a self-defeating reality,
Content with being at the bottom,
                     with no desire for self-improvement,

A man is stuck on pipes or needles,
                      a casino is a woman's church,
Teenagers turn into drunks daily,
                      bankers put families on the street,
Civil servants turn politician,
                       teachers brainwash children at the school,
Bastard children are born every day,
                       how many of them will lose their way,

When one is lost with no intention
                       of being found one can't help but hate,
Negativity finds its way home,
                       all who come into proximity
Are affected by this dark-ass cloud,
                       it manifests itself into spite,
Hateful rumors about another,
                       talking down on a person's efforts,

Brother and sister love and protect
                       each other from such people out there,
They would kill your dreams and ambitions,
                       casting their dark cloud over your head,

To those with their hopes and dreams shattered,
                       including those content with their life,
Find new goals and ambitions to chase,
                       and you'll forget that dark cloud was there.

189 Streetlife: Beloved

189 Streetlife: Beloved: Beloved, It is only with sincerity that I come to you in verse. The wine of our passions only ages and matures with every passing tick; n...

189 Streetlife: Just Before Sunset

189 Streetlife: Just Before Sunset: The stage is a street, A kid on a cell phone calls for reinforcements, A signal is sent while his man lies bleeding on the asphalt, Shots...

Just Before Sunset

The stage is a street,
A kid on a cell phone calls for reinforcements,
A signal is sent while his man lies bleeding on the asphalt,
Shots ring out offering a variety of ordinance,
Tires skee-skirt 'round the corner as the volleys cease,
Silence on the set; in the distance a motor hums,
Someone calls to attention the deceased,

                                                                            -Scream!

Shouts and orders fill the air, 

Doors slam and two cars start up, 

The chase begins

Three gangsters in the rival car don't know what to do, 

One of them is hit crying in pain, 

Slug rests center scapula, 

Meanwhile smashing in traffic, 

Dodging and weaving while discussing the plan,

Go to the hospital - that's no good, 

Police will keep an eye on that, 

Let's just wait a little longer, 

Wait a minute that's not right!

The wounded man will take his chance, 

Plead the fifth and shut his trap, 

The other two will have no fear, 

Ain't no fuckin' rat right here!

They getaway while that one sits, 

Just believe he'll shut his lip,

The two confer and they concur, 

Pass by the hospital make a left turn, 

And left him off by the curb on his own, 

The man won't talk if his word is bond,

That's all they need to know, 

Anyone could have been shot anywhere, 

And if the police put him on the set, 

Enemies get put on blast: they snitch!

The receptionist sees the man walk up, 

Grimacing a horrid face,

She asks him what the problem is, 

He turns and shows his bullet hole, 

Red-black crusted round the cloth,

She makes the call to get him treated, 

Then calls to have the cops go see him, 

Detectives arrive on the scene just after surgery, 

Find him nearly comatose, 

They wake the man to ask some questions, 

True to word the man wouldn't talk,

Lead detective smiles and smirks, 

And tells a story about a dead man they found a few hours earlier, 

Some cat with some random name, 

Turns out someone saw the men who shot him,

This witness was very descriptive, 

Had the real name, moniker and gang affiliation of one in particular, 

And then a call came in, 

A person with the same name turned up shot in the hospital, 

He wouldn't answer nurses' questions so they looked in his wallet and found his ID,

The detective pulled a card from his pocket and tossed it on the bed, 

A cop came in the room and cuffed the patient to the rail,

They read him his rights and informed him of his arrest, 

First degree murder with gang enhancement, 

When it was appropriate they took him county while he fought his case, 

His people tried to raise money for a lawyer, 

But they first had to pay for the retaliation,

Hours after the shooting the other side came back and got two, 

In spite of all efforts only a P.D. was defense, 

Twenty-five to life was the result of a plea bargain, 

The inmate sits on the gray goose, 

He is spared but will he ever be free, 

In twenty five years he'll be forty-eight, 

And then he can think about parole,

Because he didn't get a real trial, 

He doesn't know who turned him in, 

And while he forever ponders the idea of finding that rat on the mainline, 

It never becomes clear how the consequences of our actions are dictated by choices.

Beloved

Beloved,
It is only with sincerity that I come to you in verse. The wine of our passions only ages and matures with every passing tick; needless to say the clock here is not my friend. And yet I find Time in this hectic schedule to find you in some profound dimension that I cannot explain. Is it the rare occasion of our company together, the time we spend exploring? The inertia is a driving force in my heart that carries over deep in the banks of mind and thought, imagination and desire, soul and will.
When was the last time we accomplished something special? Our memories are epic however few. Why do we have only a few great Times as opposed to many smaller and dare I say lesser in quality or intensity? Not to be ungrateful by any means, only that I'd rather see you with more frequency. Or would you disagree – do you suppose that it is that we have this immeasurable distance that the fruits from the journey to be with each other are that much more delicious? A delicacy to be savored long after we have parted and the pangs to reunite grow stronger from within. Apart from you it is the arctic winter, together it is the California spring with life and love and everything in full bloom.
Am I wrong to want to be with you always? I feel as though we could achieve greatness with little effort. Do you not see that our weaknesses and strengths bring balance to our lives? We are a dynamic factor with the ability to take on the world. I could go on forever of the potential of a life together with you. Until the next time I see your face, I hug and squeeze you wholeheartedly in my mind as only you could when we see and part ways. May the day come when we part no longer. My beloved you are with me always, with best wishes of kindness I bid you love.
Your beloved.

The Literary Works of D.W. Palma: Wall Street

The Literary Works of D.W. Palma: Wall Street: This black tie soiree, That begins with the closing of the day, Where one's reservations go astray, We've arrived here without delay, Nothin...

Wall Street

This black tie soiree,
That begins with the closing of the day,
Where one's reservations go astray,
We've arrived here without delay,

Nothing in this world so gaye,
In this great affair we'd lose our way,
Seeing in monochrome and gray,
If we chose not see the color spray,

No shepherd in this room is fit to lead,
'by any means', their greedy creed,
They own our hearts and corrupt our seed,
pre-packaged lies sold as human feed,

And yet they brag and boast 'Take heed,
of how we teach them when they breed,
They learn concepts: math and how to read,
Then roll their dreams with bammer weed,

We can't but laugh at their despair,
That nasty smoke flows through the air,
Subservient life - the choice is there,
And always faithful choose not care',

We few who feel compassion stare,
At zombies round the silver chair,
They serve the snooty debonair,
Endangered species as their fare,

Are these our leaders at the fore,
Who take and yet conquest for more,
Enlist us in their wealthy war,
To confiscate each conquered store,

Are we the flock without a core,
Whose silence is a daily chore,
The dead lie littered on the shore,
We smell the funk and still ignore,

Meanwhile we tend the yuppie class,
Awaiting orders from their brass,
Subjected to the laws they pass,
To keep in line the ignorant mass,

The rollers come through to harass
The working poor and bust some ass,
For stupid shit like smoking grass,
Then life becomes a great impasse,

All these people in this place,
Have made the world a huge rat-race,
One starts an infant with no base,
The goal: to buy up all the space,

It's some hard-knock shit to face,
The man stays steady on one's case,
We're all conditioned to give chase,
While moving at a frantic pace.

The Man Machine

Fear not death at all,
In death we are not made to feel,
For the greatest struggles comes through living,
Life is the source of our pain and suffering,
The hardship of economic imbalance,
Minds become exhausted from stress and worry
Bodies experience trauma from beatings and toil,
We wrinkle under the sun and fatigue in our freedom,
Desperation gets the better of us at times,
All this sweat for the sweet of a smile,
On the rare occasion that Joy comes to us she is a beauty to behold,
Happiness is the treasure we cherish in our chests,
The moments of bliss become our motivation to continue,
We befriend self deception,
Tricking ourselves into believing the great lie,
The great dream from which nobody wishes to awaken,
Reinforced by the socially constructed and interactive realities,
Every human mind is a bioelectrical system of impulse and thought,
Capable of rationalizing information and reason,
Nature built this machine - the human being,
It is the greatest tragedy on earth,
A kind of planned obsolescence,
Homo Sapien is a complex, scientific breakthrough,
In its relatively short existence it has accomplished so much,
But look at how it self destructs,
See how it turns on its own kind,
Watch it destroy the very environment that sustains it,
There is no understanding this beast that has programmed itself to fail,
It chooses only to serve its function until it wears out,
Only in its breakdown does it find stability.

Pollution

All this pollution,
Jet planes roar above spewing toxic chem trails,
Pencil clouds that appear to vanish to the naked eye,
Although we lose sight it is still there en masse,
Consider only your neck of the woods,
Try to count the number that have passed by,
Dropping fuel exhaust on our oblivious skulls,
Coming in for a landing or taking off from the city,
One can hear from a car below the engines' power,
Automobiles also smoke out our atmosphere,
Brown, yellow clouds that intensify the irritation from the Sun,
Rush hour traffic fatigue comes to motorists,
Floating upon the concrete rivers bogged down by false realities,
In the distance from the freeway a passenger spots a building,
A factory amid a community of industry,
Sweatshops, smokestacks, distribution warehouse and some houses,
Diesel powered rigs come through and away,
Pickups and deliveries with destinations interstate or international,
Dropoffs at the ports contaminated with sewage,
Drainage from the aforementioned industrial sector via controlled wash,
Excess garbage dumped by the island of styrofoam finds its way back,
For the landfills have become satiated with consumption,
International trade routes flooded with oil burning freighters,
Developing nations have fewer alternatives,
Developed nations are too stingy to make the switch,
Until then we are stuck with all this pollution.

Marigold Fields

Upon these fields the Marigolds stood tall,
Stalwart matriarchy, none could encroach,
Seasons changed, years and decades paid their toll,
Strong, gold green branches extended their reach,
As if to grab all the creatures on Earth,
And protect them in the den, by the hearth,
Only Time cares to hear their burdened cry,
It hurts to watch these flowers slowly die

I can see no good come from their demise,
These hills judge their disappearance with hate,
Prejudiced against the foul, phallic mass,
Whose endeavors to steal the mountains heights,
Drain the natural order’s energy,
Take from what’s left of the ecology,
Few remain, resisting and defying,
Lo! We witness The Marigolds’ dying,

Where would we otherwise be guided right?
In the safety of their comforting stems,
Resting the ground in the fields they rot,
The lessons that they taught remain the same,
Time is unkind and brings tribulation,
Time can also bring regeneration,
Wait a few years and revisit these fields,
Seeds of the Marigolds bring forth their yield.

Poohtalk (R.I.P)

I cannot go on singing this sad song,
My homeboy's murder remains unsolved,
Nothing I can do except continue to mourn,
Peace to my brother, my heart remains torn,

When folks in your faculty who put in work,
Are dusted and rested six feet in the dirt,
We feel some hurt but it isn't the same,
We're all well aware that it's part of the game,

But your closest roads that don't put it down,
That have no intention of claiming the town,
You broke bread with your partner who wasn't a crook,
It's different circumstance when they're took,

They choose to live square, they know that they're not
Cut out for the life that some of us bought,
We sell our integrity while theirs is in tact,
So when they get got we feel we've been jacked,

I lost several homies throughout my existence,
They made their decision to grind with persistence,
Or bang on the streets - they know but don't care,
That the grave or the pen could be their last fare,

I depend on my square friends to live as I'd like,
To not have to lay low whenever heat spikes,
Much more than a homeboy that man was my friend,
I just can't acknowledge that this is the end.

Essence

It is okay to feel in memory,
Love does not always manifest itself at our whim,
And we do not always forget the ones we were sure of,
One can only suppose that it is hit or miss,
The women that have previously come into my life,
They are no longer in my presence,
Many times I was sure of a sure thing,
But nothing is absolutely certain except for what we feel,
It is okay to feel,
Though we move on to other endeavors and other schemes,
The essence that we carry with us from the ones no longer here
remain always secured in the chambers of our beating hearts,
We never really get over them,
However stronger the emotions become for another present,
The past must always be stored in the banks of our recollection,
We simply move on to other endeavors and other schemes,
Hiding our feelings and thoughts,
Socially conditioned to be insensitive,
Not wanting to be embarrassed by treacherous truth,
It is absurd to think what is socially unacceptable,
It is okay to want,
To be wanted and have our feelings reciprocated,
We cannot take ourselves seriously when we honestly think it is a
crime to feel what is natural,
It is impossible to go through life without a void in our souls when
there is nobody there to fill it,
Love is not a dirty word,
It is a game that has dirty players,
Its participants are mostly unwilling,
Yet we find the brief moments when a kind heart will
take in a stray,
These are the moments for which we live and anticipate with uncertainty,
The women that are currently in my life,
I know I find special places for them,
To each their own compartment in my essence,
I will carry them with me same as I carry those that have come before,
Perhaps I will soon find one who will reciprocate,
Or it could be that I will give into the efforts of one to whom I am blind,
For love does not conquer all,
It only conquers the living.

Beginnings

New beginnings are non existent,
The beginning of everything seems old somehow,
For life is continuous,
Life is inconsistent,
Where we start and where we end do not make sense sometimes,
To make sense of life is to solve the great mystery,
Our impulses and desires are a contradictory bunch,
The human mind calls into question the activities of the brain,
The taking of a new lover,
The termination of a love affair,
The beginning of a new life,
The passing of a dear friend and neighbor,
Always coming and going are the beginnings,
Morphing at some point into the end,
Will our beginnings be kind?
Will our endings be embraced by a gentle fate?
The transition is inevitable,
What we do is who we are,
Who we are is what we have become,
We had a new beginning once,
At birth many of us cried for the first time,
Yet, there are none who could recall why,
We were new students at some point,
Yet, there are few who could recall that first lesson,
We were once naive to the pains that love bring,
After that everything became redundant,
To begin anew is the desire of most,
What we learn we would apply if given a fresh start,
We have wisdom through experience,
We have suffered and learned from our mistakes,
No beginning should ever be new,
Let us begin where we left off.

High In My Room

What sort of madness is this here that I think?
How life is bad blended with bleak, my heart weeps,
With the pitter-patter pattern of raindrops, slow,
Falling half as slow as my stroll, upon the knoll -
In the distance is a house that the mist conceals,
The rain kills my pain to reveal my place of zeal,
And pretty soon these looming premonitions of doom,
Will be omitted when I'm high in my room,
And Through the gloom,

I see a garden of sleepy, nude half-dead trees,
A sullen bright spot spot on this eve, their scattered leaves
Skip and scrape against the cold, wet, asphalt floor,
They're blindly searching for a place to explore,
Sweet cigar smoke rolls of my tongue as I puff-puff
On the Mild,
Eve-dreaming of elusive smiles from women wild,
Imagine we're stranded on an island of dunes,
Instead of being stuck and high in my room,

So is it bad?
This little bag?

The stigma from the powers that be,
Have labeled little plant ENEMY,
I've seen how alcohol and certain prescription drugs,
Destroy communities that I love - makes people thugs
When they drink and flash violently, drunk in a rage,
Police'll lock 'em up in a cage - in this age,
I'd rather break the law and harm nobody soon,
Just chillin' here high in my room, high in my room!

Dulo

Dulo had just got out of the California Youth Authority after doing 4 years for an attempted robbery. Dark Skinned and muscular, the same clothes he wore the day he got busted did not fit him anymore. It started raining when he stepped into the Quincy Projects, and he heard someone yell, “Dulo!” he turned and saw his homeboy Wan driving up in a ’74 sedan. Wan was light skinned, tall and lanky, and sported a burgundy beanie, “I thought that was you. ’Sup mine!? What that Lakeside like?”
“Wan! Whassup folks?” he leaned through the window and shook hands.
“Damn, look at’chu, boy, what they don’t feed you at the Y.A.?”
“Barely,” he scoffed, “It’s all I did everyday was work out, crunchin’ out burpees and push-ups, tryin’ to get yoked.”
Wan sized him up, “Yeah, you look like you lost about a hundred pounds. Hop in” Dulo got in the car, and Wan continued as he backed out of the parking lot and drove down the street, “When you get out?”
“I just got out today.”
“No shit?”
“Yeah, I caught the Gray Goose back to county and they dropped me out in front. I had some cash left on my books, so I caught the bus down here.”
“Gray Goose? What, nobody picked you up?”
“Nah, I couldn’t get a ride.”
“Damn that’s fucked up. Why you didn’t call a muthafucka? I woulda came and gotcha.”
“I couldn't remember nobody's number except my mom's- all that shit was in my cell phone. My battery died and they wouldn't let me charge it when they gave me my property.”
“Why your mom didn’t get you, then?”
“You kiddin'? She wouldn’t even take my calls. She might’a moved across state for all I know. She basically disowned my ass when I got popped - started saying I'm an embarrassment, she's ashamed to go to church, this and that. I thought she'd get over it but I guess she never did.”
Wan shook his head incredulously, “Damn, I didn’t know it was like that. You could’ve at least wrote. I didn’t know where you were, or what happened, you just disappeared off the planet. My mom was askin' about you, if you were okay and why you weren't calling. You family as far as we're concerned - me and you go back to kindergarten.” They drove in silence for a couple of minutes, and then Wan continued, “Man, you really did all that time without nobody. That’s fucked up, Blood. I can’t believe that shit.”
“Well, don’t feel bad. I was gonna write your ass, too, but didn’t know the apartment address; I only knew the number” Dulo chuckled, “Besides, I ran into some of the homies in there.”
“Oh yeah? Who you in there with?”
“I was in there with Cupcake, P-Nut, and Yola. And you know how we do it, actin’ a fool, runnin’ shit! Cupcake had some bitches smugglin’ dope for him, so we were livin’ cool for a minute. Then one of them stupid ass broads got popped bringin’ shit in – fucked it up for everyone. I wasn’t trippin’ though; I saved a little skrill, so I was straight ‘til I got out, and I still had a couple stacks on my books.”
Wan laughed, “That’s what’s up!”
“Hell yeah! Oh – guess who I ran into over at Triple C?”
“Who?”
“Monty B!”
“Monty B? I haven’t seen that fool in hella long – I heard he was facing triple life for smokin’ a couple of them Crest Lames.”
“Yeah, he had just got sentenced when I saw him. We were in Four Hundred Pod over at Max for a few days. So I start rappin’ with homeboy, and he said he didn’t do it.”
“How long ago was this?”
“About three years ago. Then they sent his ass to Pelican, and that was the last I seen him.”
“So, if he didn’t do it, then who did?”
“He said it was some foo from Northside - Bantum Crew. Some cat named Pooky. B told me that he was locked up with his partner Skeet from Suisun, and Skeet told him that he heard it from his homeboy Jazz. I guess Jazz does business with him. Supposedly, Pooky and a couple of them foos robbed the house for some keys. Pooky got trigger-happy and lit them foos up.
“So Pooky sold the keys to Jazz. And when Jazz asked him where he came up on the junk, he started braggin’ about the lick, givin’ up details. Jazz told Skeet before he got busted, and Skeet told B. They just happened to be in the same unit while they were fightin’ their cases. Somehow during the discussion the issue came up and Skeet told him what he heard.”
“Skeet?” Wan thought for a second, “That name sounds familiar – what was he in for?”
“Possession. He got caught the day after he talked to Jazz. They caught him with a whole one.” Dulo continued, “So anyways, B said something about his fam tryin’ to raise money to hire an attorney; they're gonna try to appeal but you gotta have your own lawyer - the state don't provide one for appeals. Just as well seeing as how his Public Pretender was a truck, didn’t even call any witnesses.”
“You know a P.D. ain’t finna do shit for you, mine. All they wanna do is getcha to take a deal”.
“Yeah, I learned that the hard way. I started going over the case with my P.D. and he didn’t wanna hear shit about it. Started talkin’ about fifteen years, so when they offered me six, I jumped on it. I woulda got out sooner, but they kept takin’ away my good time. I’m surprised they even let me parole.” They pulled up in front of a house on the Westside, “Man, where the hell we at?”
“My Mes'kin homeboy, Rider - straight Westsider.”
“Who?”
“You know, the weed man. Been buyin’ from this cat for a while. He got some bomb-ass shit. C’mon, I’ll introduce.”
As they walked up to the house, a car full of bald cholos slowly passed by in a dark sedan. One of the passengers wore a black bandana and locs; he yelled out “Eastside!” and then they sped off.
Dulo looked at Wan, “What was that all about?”
“Vandals out in the east area. Foos got deep these last couple years. Used to be nobody but Southside Crest Lane bothered with them, but they’re gettin’ brave now that they got some numbers.” He rang the doorbell, “They ride with the Woods over in Toontown, hookin’ them foos up with Meth and guns and shit. Word is they got connected with some Cartel. Fuck them foos!”
A stocky, tattooed chicano sporting a fade and a wifebeater answered, “Wan, whassup?”
They hugged and then Wan turned to Dulo, “this’ my homeboy Dulo.”
Rider looked at him and then he reached out his hand, “Whassup, they call me Rider; mucho gusto”. Rider invited them in. “You here to get some yesca?” He closed the door behind him.
Wan smiled, “hell yeah. My boy here just got out today, so we need to get a smoke session.”
Rider appeared relieved as he looked at Dulo, “is that right? You just get out?”
“Yup.”
“What were you in for – if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Attempted Robbery. I got six, but did four.”
“All right, all right. Well, check it out, Wan’s like family to me, so any friend of his – ” Rider gestured towards the interior of his apartment.
“I appreciate that, folks.”
Rider looked at Wan, “You in a hurry? I just rolled a blunt if you wanna blaze.”
“Naw I ain't in no hurry - spark that shit” Wan answered gleefully.
Rider led them to a back room that had two sofas and a chair with ottoman. A video game console was connected to a television set, both of which sat upon a stand. There was a glass coffee table that had marijuana contraband scattered about with loose papers. Dulo noticed the glow in the dark posters that had cartoons that endorsed marijuana use. Rider sat on the chair, while Dulo and Wan each sat on a sofa.
“This shit is Kush, right here” Rider lit the blunt and took a drag, then passed to Dulo.
“You been havin’ problems with them Eastside Vandals, mine” Wan asked Rider.
“I ain’t got no problems with those lames, they have a problem with me. Nothin’ I can’t handle, though.”
“I’m just askin’ ‘kuz a carload of them passed by when we came up just right now. Givin’ hard looks and shit. One yelled ‘Eastside’, then they mashed off.”
Rider chuckled “Yeah, they wanna get our asses and control the West. But they know me and my homeboys got heat and we put in work - they found that out the hard way. We already blasted four of them this last year - tryin' to come out here and take over our spots. They thought just because some Wabs hooked them up everyone's gonna be scared. Tryin' to punk people by waving around guns. I don't care how many guns you have - don't mean shit if you're too scared to blast. Know?"
Wan nodded, "yeah I feel you, mine."
"What kind of heat you packin'" Dulo asked, passing to Wan.
“I got an A.K. and a Shotgun that I keep here, and my homeboy has the Thompson. I used to have a .45 but my stupid ass brother got caught with it.”
Wan looked at Dulo, “What, you lookin’ for heat already? You just got out, relax for a minute.”
“I’m just sayin’ – I’ma need to get strapped at some point.”
Rider looked at Dulo “If you need some heat, I have a friend who knows a friend. How much you lookin’ to spend?”
“Maybe two or three.”
Wan passed the blunt to Rider, who took a drag and thought for a second. Then he spoke as he passed to Dulo, “I don’t know. I can get you an AR-15, but it’ll cost you at least six – and that’s if he still has any. For three I'm sure we can get you a .38, but it’s clean. If you want, I’ll keep an ear out for something, but I can tell you right now that any cuete less than two’s prob'ly gonna be dirty.”
“I don’t care. I don’t plan on gettin’ caught with it, if you know what I mean.”
“Alright then, I’ll see what I can do.”
Wan read Dulo, “What you thinkin’ up over there?”
“Makin’ money how I know how to make money.”
Wan laughed, “You goddamn jacker! Just got out, already tryin' to go back in.”
Rider chuckled, “ Speakin' of jackers, you ever hear of some fool named Pooky? I think he's from Bantum Crew out in the Northside.” Wan and Dulo got serious and looked at Rider, “From what I hear, he’s out jackin’ fools sick. I have a conecta who deals with him. He told me that he only goes after fools that slang. For a second I thought it was you, but you’ve been locked down and I know that Wan don’t get along with Bantum.”
"Why would you think that was me?" Dulo responded.
Rider pointed to a tattoo of a twenty dollar bill on Dulo's neck, "I heard he has a tattoo just like it. Same exact spot and everything. I also know people go by different names when they're known and they don't wanna be known. Especially when they're up to something - no offense Wan."
“None taken - you gotta stay on your pounds and quays, it's part of the game. Your connect - wouldn't happen to be some cat named Jazz, would it?”
“How'd you know?”
Wan and Dulo looked at each other; Dulo asked, “Is he some Bay Area foo?”
“Yeah, North Bay. I’m not exactly sure what part - Suisun, Richmond or whatever, but I know he’s from somewhere out there. He lives on Lytle Avenue, where those Bantum foos kick it. Right there in the Hamburg apartments.”
Wan sensed that he may be stepping on toes, “You tight with this cat?”
“Who Jazz?”
“Yeah.”
“No, not really. I just buy shit off him every now and then.” He read the expressions on their faces, “Why, you gonna get that foo?”
Dulo shrugged, “maybe. Do you think he's holding?”
"That foo? I'm pretty sure he's holding. Has to be. He just got some Woods for a P last week. He couldn't have got that shit off that fast - and if he did, he couldn't have spent all that cash that fast. Know?"
Dulo thought for a moment, then stated his case, "You know where Jazz lives, but he don't know that you know us. We'll need to borrow some heat, but we can cut you in for an equal share if you're interested and nobody will know you're participating. Here's the plan".



The morning rain gave way to a thunderstorm. Pooky was smoking a joint in the living room of his apartment. The room was dim with the only light spilling in from the kitchen. He was about to crack open a beer, when he got a call on his cell from Jazz, “What up, Loc?”
“Hey, what’s on the menu?”
“Same shit as yesterday - white girl” Pooky replied.
“How many?”
“I still got six from the Woods.”
“How much?”
“How much you lookin’ to spend?”
“Two.”
He thought for a second, “I can let a couple whole ones go for two. Come down.”
“I’m downstairs, be right up.”
“Alright then.”
Pooky put his joint in an ash tray on the coffee table and picked up the pistol lying next to it. He checked to make sure there was a round in the chamber and switched off the safety. The doorbell rang and he went to the door, looked through the peephole and saw Jazz. He unlocked the door and opened it with his left hand while keeping the pistol clutched in his right. Jazz came in, and he saw the barrel of a shotgun come from behind his back – it was a setup!
Pooky backed up, letting off rounds from his pistol. Jazz was hit twice in the chest and once in the face – he fell forward. The man with the shotgun let off a volley of rounds. Pooky was hit in the chest – he was dead before he hit the ground, but managed to hit the shooter in the thigh. Another man appeared in the doorway, dressed in black – it was Wan.
“Dulo, you okay?”
“Yeah I’m alright. C’mon, let’s get this shit and get out of here!”
They searched the house and found a black bag with money, a couple of guns and six ounces of Crystal. Dulo was bleeding badly, but stood by the door in case anybody came in. Thunder rolled as the storm picked up.
"Got it!" Wan yelled, "C'mon lets go!" He helped his partner down the stairs of the apartments to the parking lot, where Rider was waiting. He noticed Dulo hobbling. Wan and Dulo jumped in the back seat.
“What happened” Rider asked.
“Dulo got shot” Wan replied.
“Is it bad? Do you wanna go to the hospital - you're bleeding pretty bad bro.”
“Nah! To hell with that!” Dulo answered, “Let’s just get back to your place so we can divvy this up. Every cop in town's gonna be looking for people at the hospital with gunshot wounds. I’ll be alright.”
“Alright, man.” Rider reluctantly kept driving towards his place in the Westside. Nobody said a word. Dulo looked at the raindrops bead on his passenger window. He thought about his mother and his future. Wan was counting the money and doing math in his head. Rain continued to pour heavily but the storm was subsiding. The ride took twenty minutes.
They pulled up to Rider’s apartment. Wan looked at Dulo, “C’mon let’s split this shit up – time to get paid!” Dulo didn’t say anything or move. Wan shook him, “Dulo, wake your ass up, boy!” but he didn't move. The bullet severed an artery and he bled to death. Wan turned him over and he saw the blank expression on his best friend’s face: his lifeless eyes were open and there was neither pain, nor joy. It was part confusion, part peace, and part resignation – it was the look of struggle and as Wan took it in, he was overcome with grief, burying his head in Dulo’s chest – he hadn’t cried like that since before kindergarten.

Codex Calnetzpalin

In this house there is no love,
Sad days and nights follow the morrow,
Dead promises hang above,
Those unpaid debts that bring us sorrow,

Misery must be our wish,
Believing what the elders report,
Children could be so foolish,
Leaning on denial for support,

The powers seldom speak truth,
It is self defeating to do so,
Victory is fist and tooth,
Hard fighting in the trenches below,

Pamphlet propaganda wars,
Honey in the form of rhetoric,
Teabags wash upon our shores,
Alluding to some acts historic,

Misdirection to the mass,
But history is still subjective,
Surely as these days will pass,
So diligence will prove effective,

The lizard knows this world well,
Asleep beneath the ignorant apes,
If we break the sleeping spell,
Netzpalin’s truth takes the form of grapes,

Sun-sweet raisins on the vine,
Wisdom is the greatest of all treats,
People in the stupid line,
Grow suspicious of corrupt elites,

The sweet fruits of Netzpalin,
Blooming everywhere throughout the Earth,
The souls of all the fallen,
Rejoice at their sacrifices worth,

Enlightenment has value,
Far greater than the masters’ coffers,
They’d find a way to sell you,
We’d never think refuse their offers,

Blindness was the sanest choice,
Another was destroy each other,
Suicide – the poet’s voice,
Brought screams and madness to the mothers,

All these things that must take place,
In this lifetime or perhaps the next,
Wait not for some godly grace,
To bring assistance to all those hexed,

Have belief deep in your hearts,
We choose to be under some control,
In the mind is where it starts,
We must question with both mind and soul,

The will is perseverance,
Deception begins within the self,
Pay no mind to appearance,
Place your senses high upon the shelf,

No man or woman alive,
Should be able to harm your spirit,
Honey from the wicked hive,
Have bees that sting your ears to hear it,

Emphasize your right to thought,
It is not some privilege assigned,
Never fear to speak your lot,
Have confidence in the thoughts you find,

Lizard is a wise being,
Netzpalin resides within us all,
The house is a living thing,
Calnetzpalin waits for you to call.

Codex Ehecatl

If this world was without order,
History couldn’t repeat as before,
We wouldn't assume an outcome based on the past,
For whatever is in store for mankind is impossible to predict,
Fools will try,
Leadership will fail,
Since foresight is a casualty,
Nothing may stand from Perish,
Things will take place in our time,
We witness with consistency the destruction of old systems,
New systems become old in time,
Though Time itself is Young,

She has no cares for those who cannot wait,
Millions of people have place in this fate,
Jupiter cringes when some plot escape,
For fear of destruction, carnage, and rape,
Pandora ’s Box will be released,
And all the apes will surely cease,

Will all the lyricists please transcribe this,?
This record finds no truth to his highness,
Let’s be no fools to the lies so Righteous,
They’ve had such fun taking from the mindless,
Down on Earth, kept under control,
Easy to game, eager to fold,

Rise in defense then, if you are weaker,
Fight in the trench with castes and the meeker,
Line up your soldiers and brilliant thinkers,
Find strong voices and make them your speakers,
Learn new systems how to relate,
For none can see the hands of fate,

Death comes, even to those who are prepared,
Why, then, find it in your hearts to be scared,
Fall, our last season is commonly shared,
All our relations are therefore, impaired,
We hurt ourselves with old belief,
We all should do without that grief

The Visit

A smile came to Mike’s face as his homeboy Shawn approached from the parking lot, carrying a forty. It had been over six months since he last saw his homeboy, and he had wanted company for some time.
“What up Big Shawn? Long time, no see!”
“What’s up m'dude? Ain’t seen you for a while,” Shawn sat on the bench in the shade, next to where Mike rested, “I meant to come by sooner, but, you know how it is.”
“Man, don’t even trip! I’m just glad to see a friendly face. Heaven knows muthafuckas ain’t thinkin’ about me these days.”
“You’ll never guess - I ran into your baby’s mom the other day.” Shawn cracked open the forty, took a sip, and poured some out.
“Right on,” Mike smiled, “How they doing?”
“Your baby got big these last six months – he looks just like you. Yolanda’s hangin’ in there – still doing her thing; workin’ and goin’ to school.”
“That’s Yoli for you - trying to get ahead in life. It’s part of why she left me in the first place.”
Shawn took a joint from behind his right ear and sparked it, “I wish you could hit this with me”.
“Shit, who are you telling? I wish I could hit that too, but,” Mike trailed off, “you know.”
“Well, since you can’t hit it, I’ll hit it for you” He took a drag, and then continued, “anyways, I keep in touch with your mom. She’s still pretty broken up about what happened. I told her I was gonna visit you today. I asked her if she wanted to come, but she didn’t think she could take it. I’ll try to convince her next time, but - we’ll see,” Shawn took another drag, sipped his forty, and spilled some more. He sighed as he looked up, and tears swelled up in his eyes, “Fuck, man! I miss your ass. I wish you could come home, but –” he shook his head, and tried to compose himself, “Damn.” Shawn paused, “I guess you got yourself into something you just can’t get out of, huh?” He wiped away tears with the back of his hand.
Mike shed silent tears with Shawn until a cool breeze came in from the west, and Shawn finally got up.
“I gotta go Mike, dude, but I’ll be back. You stay up, okay?” He poured out the rest of his beer, and put the doobie at the top of Mike’s tombstone. He threw up the neighborhood sign, and said “Peace”, as he walked away.
Mike watched his homeboy as he left the parking lot and disappeared into traffic. He looked up at the sky, and sighed, swallowing the lump in his throat. Hoping to see his mother again, he thought, “Maybe next time”, and wiped his tears away. He felt a buzz as he went back into his grave, and awaited the next visit.

Damp Cool

Here,
In the damp cool,
on a patch of grass along the
river's banks,
In the shade,
Protected from the Sun's rays of fiery life,
snow-pack stream of cold, cold water feel good to the
toes' touch,
sitting with my sweetie holding hands, holding icy drinks
from an old, red and white cooler,
ducks paddle by kayaks passing by,
searching for shade such as ours, seeking shelter from
the shining star,
and seeing something on the western shore,
storm madly towards their collective goal of relief,
bitterly complaining about mid-afternoon heat,
I smile, turn and kiss my sweetie on her cheek,
She chuckles,
then she rests her head upon my shoulder,
at peace in this pseudo-lagoon,
no fallout from the real world shall find us
here,
She gently skims my tummy's soft, and I bristle when
She finds my yummy spot,
the pleasures of the simple,
the murmur of the waters' flows,
a woman's magic, gentle stroke, coupled with the sensation
of her soft hair resting upon my flesh,
whatever curious force prompts our eyes to meet,
and I say to her with pure honesty,
"There is no other place in this world I would rather be,
and no other lover I care to know
for I have found nirvana on this Earth,
here,
in the damp cool,
with you".