Please pardon the interruption of your regularly scheduled black history month
I know there have been some mixed sentiments about Black History Month being in the shortest month of the year
But we must inform all the detractors that black history month was originally a week in February, so February being the shortest month is kind of irrelevant
However, seeing as though Africa is the root, and technically everything that transpired in the bible alone occurred in Africa or the Middle East, perhaps your pastor should be enlightening the rest of you
Please note that without Chuck Berry and Little Richard, there would have been no Elvis Presley, and rock and roll wouldn’t have been rock and roll without Jimi
Please also note that there is no such thing as urban music
And gangster rap is almost as insulting as the terminology, American Indian, but that’s another poem
But then, so is the fact that we allowed those derogatory terms to define us and our music…again
Wearing dashiki’s during black history month does not make you more culturally aware
As celebrating kwanza does not make you any blacker
I regret to inform you that celebrating president’s day in the middle of black history month is like celebrating Hitler’s birthday during the observation of the Holocaust
If one more teacher tells my nephew that Lincoln freed the slaves…
Pretending that slavery, Jim Crow, the civil rights era, and Reagan didn’t happen to the black community doesn’t mean that they didn’t happen
Sorry to inform you but
The Tuskegee Airmen are a part of history, just like the Tuskegee experiments
Black Wall Street is a part of history, just like the fact that military planes were allowed to bomb it
Martin Luther King, Jr. is a part of history, as is Rodney King
You don’t get the choice to tell the parts you like
The luxury to sugar coat the truth
Don’t patronize me by patting me on my head for 28 days
Telling me I’m special
Then strangle my hopes and dreams for the remainder of the year
Our history is one of struggle and perseverance
Why can’t you tell that?
I need to know all the black history
Tell me how Jesus was crucified
How Hannibal laid waste to Rome
Tell us about the reconstruction era, because I wasn’t taught that in high school
I need more of a reason to believe in myself
I got too much stress
For some reason everyone seems nicer around this time
My boss is riding me more than these 28 days
I was just starting to feel good about myself
I got a mortgage for more than 28 days
I was just beginning to feel self aware and empowered
These utility bills keep coming after these 28 days are up
Twenty eight days ain’t enough
Give me a reason to hold my head high for 365 days a year
Now,
Back to your regularly scheduled program

I wrote this last year around this time...I included it in this February's illpoets.com newsletter, but who knows how many (or few) people actually read it? I wasn't really even penning a poem in this particular instance as much as I was venting thedifferent feelings I have regarding this month.

So hey, hope your overly commercialized day of love was cool, and affordable. Don't want none of ya'll going broke tryin' to get the draws. My V-Day was cool, although I am now trying to keep myself from getting sick (running around when I shpould have been resting). Funny thing is, I woke up feeling fine, but as the day progresses, I feel more and more like I'm going to be sick-- ah well, I typically break down once a year if at all, so this would be as good a time as any, I guess. Hey, I'd like to know why new valentine's can be such work, not that it was a bad thing for me...but figuring out what will be appreciated versus what will be cliche or overboard is a subtle art. Well, maybe not an art, but whatever. All I'm saying is, if you know your Valentine, everything should be a cakewalk--if you're on your job that is.
Now me, I personally don't dig the day at all. It's one of those cash cows drummed up every year by corporate america to get guys into precarious positions. The tension leading up to the day builds too much expectation for some. I mean, how come the guy has to do the flowers and candy while the woman just stands there all teary eyed? I thought everything is supposed to be equal. I'm saying, are you going to break out those Victoria's Secret draws and flavored condoms after I get you the tennis bracelet? Damn ma, I drop a g or more on that ass--I want that ass...in multiple positions. And ya better not be having any "visitor's"!! Else, the flavored condoms are now optional. :o)
Wow...that was crass--even for me. But, alas, that is how we guys think. We're not into the details, we are into the outcome. We go through the details because we want a favorable outcome. (In the beginning) We could really care less how flowers and candy make you feel, we're more concerned with how much ass credit we just purchased with said flowers and candy. Yes, ladies, I said it-- Ass Credit. Every guy works on getting some that he'll hopefully be able to cash in on yo' ass at some point. It's like AMEX rewards, but we actually plan on being able to use the points one day. And ladies, don't get offended, men are more base creatures than you--and the only things that prevents you from being as base as us is you contend with a lot more "feelings" than we do initially. When we see a woman, we take inventory of the physical: Ass--check, Legs--check, Breasts--pass, Stomach--check, Face--pass. WE HAVE A GREEN LIGHT, REPEAT, A GREEN LIGHT!!! LAUNCH ALL GAME! LAUNCH ALL GAME! And why do we start at the ass, or for my european brothers, the breasts and monitor the face last? We're building our way up to it. We don't know what she looks like--it's like a five second suspense movie and you don't know whether or not she's a good guy or a bad guy. *Hisss* "Back, Satan!" Seriously, it's like a close game that's definately coming down to the buzzer. I mean, if she didn't get enough marks befor the face, the face could turn the game around in her favor. Whereas, if she had high marks in the major four categories, ans was busted in the face--we are now faced with a quandry. If she is cute, it's like: All that, and a cute face too?! If shw winds up being cute as hell with litle to no ass, brothas will be like, "If I tap that right, I can make the ass swell up..." If she isn't cute, it's like-- "Damn...how do I hit this and nobody finds out?" HAhahahahahaha! I'm crazy for that one. But, it's the truth--we can be that shallow...
BUT!
Women on the other hand have way more assessments than us and are no less shallow. Women will assess-- Shoes, car, clothes, house, weight, walk, build, height, height in contrast with your height, teeth, smile, eyes and whether or not he has good hair. The bad thing is, ya'll started this list of assessments before you even were able to use it or knew what to do with it. You developed this list in pre-school and elementary, and worked on it through junior high and high school. Let a brother not have one of his requirements down-- the axe. Hell, ol' girl don't have to be a specific height per se, long as she is proportioned to our liking, is clean and can formulate a sentence--we're good. And for some, the ability to formulate a sentence isn't mandatory. Now PERSONALLY, intelligence is a big turn on (as is a phatty), but we aren't nearly as discriminating in the beginning as women are. We're equal opportunity. You have to do some shit to make us be like, "Nah, I'm good...you can keep that homie". Women, not so much--you have to build credit, and hope she like the roll of coins you're working with when you come to spend a little time with her, y'dig?
Anyway, I better shut this down...I'm getting way into this. Sometimes I think I should be comedian.

You ever have a memory that was so long ago, but was so engrained in your mind you just thought, "That's the way I remember it, so that must be the way it is"? Well, I had a reality check a couple of moments ago. See, I had a memory of pre-school, snack time to be precise. During snack time, we'd sometimes get celery--with peanut butter, and it was good, too. Yummy, yummy, good. So, I figured, I have this monstrous veggie platter from this past Sunday, why not have a treat? Why not have some peanut butter and celery for the sake of nostalgia? I did, too. You know what? It ain't like I remembered. I dare say, it's not too yummy at all. I wonder what the hell else wasn't that good at snack time. Was paste also disgusting--that's a joke--a poor one, but a joke nonetheless. I wasn't into consuming paste for kicks. Do kids really do that? Well, I know that peanut butter, jelly and ritz crackers are still good, they just take forever to prepare, and longer to fill you up. So, anyway, I now have a plate with peanut butter globbed on it, and you know what, I'm going to eat it anyway. I'm sure it's not just a cultural thing, but we weren't allowed to get a bunch of something, and decide we anted to throw it away. Oh hell no! You fixed your plate, you eat--end of story. Oh gosh, I becoming my parents more and more each day. I mean, I'm grown, and I paid for this stuff...I could by all rights rage against the machine and throw it away, but I'm just too old school (cheapness might fall in there somewhere, but I'm not sure 'cause I don''t really trip off of money too tough). On another note, the carrots on my plate are good, and one accidentally got mixed in the peanut butter. Interesting. Not saying I'd recommend it, but interesting nonetheless.
Speaking of peanut butter: Since it's black history month, I wanted to set something straight- George Washington Carver is one of the greatest inventors ever, damnit. Think about it--there would be no snack industry without him. I mean, who the hell thinks to himself, "Gee, I bet I can make butter from peanuts"? Hell, peanut punch probably came from him too, which means the dude was also helping folks get their hump on after they had their PB&J, ya feel me? I mean, what type of drugs do you have to be on to make peanuts into butter? Seriously? Drugs or not, thouh, we all owe him for happy lunch and snack time memories. That's right ya'll, imagine elementary school without peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches. Imagine lunch without potato chips. No Reeses cups, no Lay's or Utz--this man changed the way we eat forever!!! So next time you get your George Washington Carver on, just say thanks to the dude is all. Thanks for taking a damn peanut and potato and making it fattening, yet delicious. George Washington Carver should get a day or something. Put his face on a can of peanut butter during black history month, I mean, there wouldn't be a Jif without him, right? Hell, George Washington Carver should be an Apollo legend. The tree of hope should have a jar of peanut butter on it for the rest of the month. Okay, I'm lunchin', but ya'll or lovin' it. If not, it's my journal @#$%%^^%%$!!!! :o)
Love ya,
PS- Aeryn, I responded to your comment in the last post--

Wow...I've been really zonin' out as of late. I've been forgetting there are things I want to check and support, but losing track of time and the days here and there. Fer instance, I was supposed to hit up Shay's party @ Duke City, and completely forgot! My bad, babe. I had been helpin' my folks out, and by the time I got home, I was in a mood to write some stuff down...completely lost track of time. On another note, my EP project still has some steam in it, and I'm actually encouraged still to follow through with this. I've got some nice joints penned down already. But, back to zonin' out, I was seriously considering hittin' up the event with Big sllim, but I forgot about that, too. I've really been cocooning rather hardcoe as of late, so I sometimes forget to get out and interact with folks.
But anyway, what did you folks think of the Super Bowl, or do you not care? I was actually happy that the Bus was able to retire as a Super Bowl Champion, but I wasn't even watching most of the game. I was holding a meeting with some folks that happened to spill right into the Super Bowl, I even missed mot of the commercials. I only saw the 4th quarter pretty much. But, I'm pretty sure most folks knew the Steelers were going to win. I mean, Seattle has a nice offense and all, but, they didn't really have too many battles to get to the Super Bowl, whereas Pittsburg had to fight just to make it into the playoffs, much like my beloved Skins. It's just that our offensive scheme was more stagnant and less aggressive than the Steelers, so, that's why they played Seattle and not Washington. (sigh)
But, ANYWAY, that could spark a debate I'm not EVEN trying to get into. Oh, I made Garfield's favorite dish (some lasagne) this past Sunday, too. It had been a while since I fixed some, but it turned out alrigh, I think. In retrospect, it could have used anothr bag of cheese--probably more mozzarella. It was still good, though. I killed two pieces last night, and it was still good of the reheat action. I actually don't mind cooking, I just hate the cleanup process. Kinda like, I like to do laundry, but hate folding clothes and abhor ironing. But, because I'm somewhat of a neat freak, I can't have dirty dishes in the sink for an extended period of time--it'll bother me. I get that from my moms, who is OCD--as is my father...but he's military, too. I have no choice but to be that way to an extent. One time, my father made me vaccum the carpet in the manner you would mow the lawn, you know, in straight lines, swivel, straight lines...crazy, right?
Anywho, just writing because I needed to...this is a way to remember what's going on with me. I don't like too much space to set in between journal entries, and for some reason a personal journal is too much of a headache to maintain. Which I know is weird, but, this is almost like homework. If I know someone may be watching, I'll be more inclined to do this.
The EP project, though...I'm nervous because I'll be rhyming, but I got some hot bars in there, man...seriously. I don't say that lightly, because my writing when it comes to rhyme is always under a great deal of personal scrutiny, but it really feels good to do this process. I don't have any aspirations to be an emcee, but it's nice to know tht if I worked at it, I mean honestly worked at it, it would be a potentially fruitful and fulfilling endeavor. I wouldn't want to waste my time or the listener's with something that was wack.
Hey, ummm, what the hell is up with gas prices, ya'll. Them joints just went up for no reason at all. There wasn't any justification, and they went up 30 cents, yet nobody really even said anything. I haven't heard anything on the news, and I haven't heard anybody except my father and sister really comment on it. Shit, pretty soon a brotha's gonna have to give blood just to get around for the week. This gas jacking is ridiculous. I mean, c'mon, this has singlehandedly affected how people maintain because nobody is getting raises to offset the sharp increase in gas prices. However, everything has to get somewhere with the use of gas-- food, clothing and produce all need to make it the market with gas. Hiher prices to get it there, so higher prices to buy it. Higher prices for you to get to the store and work, and for what? If gas is so expensive, how come the price for a quart of motor oil remains virtually unchanged? That's also a derivitive of oil...what the hell?
But, I didn't start this entry to get political...just wanted to write something...to be honest, I wasn't sure what that something would be. I just needed to take a moment and breathe through some venting. Still holding on to some heartache. Sometimes it's way too easy to keep it, wy too hard to let it go. I'm just trying to ignore it, like it's some cancer that will go away if you don't pay it any attention. Sometimes I genuinely forget it's there, other time it pops up out of nowhere, just to remind me I haven't healed--that I'm still affected. Even though I'm through it, oer it, past it, beyond it...it's still here, and will continue to be until I can get myself back to the speed of life. Easier said than done, I know, but i'm working towards that in a round about way. Right now, I'm just working through the day without any real expectations, just to appreciate being alive for that day and to do something that makes me feel as if I've earned my life for the day so to speak.
It's not easy when you allow yourself to build your hopes on a shaky foundation, and it crumbles all of a sudden on you. You can't do anything until you address the foundation first; sometimes that's the main thing you want to overlook. Too bad that never works for the long haul. So, to go with the foundation metaphor, I'm filling in the empty spaces with realistic material this time...not filler. We'll see how it hold up this time. Sometimes you have to lose something to build something better in it's place. Perhaps this is yet another instance of that.
iTunes rocks, if you don't have it and are using something like Windows Media Player, stop robbing yourself and go to apple.com and download a free copy of iTunes. Treat your music well, and it will return the favor tenfold. I'm almost at 7,000 songs in my library (legally), and damn near every LP I love is a couple of clicks away. But the gangsta part is the playlist aspect, which allows me to play music based upon a particular artist, genre(s) of music, time frame, etc. That's the reason why I reviewed Stevie Wonder this month on illpoets.com (I was going to review Little Brother). Okay, I'm good for now, I think...hmmmm, damn, I don't know...but I'm cool, at least. Alright, ya'll, I'll holla.
One.