friend

I’m An Activist, Not A Racist

Hold Up!
Just received a letter accusing me of being racist.
Hmmmm, sounds like we are making assumptions with no real basis.
You would be wrong all around,
because what I say you may not be ready to face it.
Read it thoroughly, it’s beyond race Miss.
My message of pride and empowerment is not pro-blackness.
You’re getting it mixed up with matter of fact-ness.
Me being racist is like spiting my face by cutting off my nose.
My chief editor is white, didn’t you know?
Isis Rain, a real soul sister understanding the plight.
The movement see’s no color; black, brown, red, yellow or white.
FYI, I love people of all colors. I don’t care, they can be purple or gray.
Hey, Joey tell your moms and brother I said what’s up! That’s my white homie from VA.
And let’s not forget my white ex-girlfriends, yeah some of them almost got me killed.
Father and brother Prejudice; hello Tiffany Wells in Lewisville.
My partner from the world, Joe Duffer a.k.a Jon B.
A white man I broke bread with, hmmmm… I guess you really don’t know me.
Just because I may be insolent, tactless, brazen or brash;
don’t misinterpret what I say, present or past.
I know, I know… on racial topics, I get a bit aggressive.
I’m atypical in my writing, not preaching hate, but I must remain progressive.
Humanity is what I love, that means ALL people.
I feel we are of one make, everyone is equal.
Though many of us were told and taught things
that were morally and socially wrong. It could’ve been through our
parents, friends, T.V., media, books and even through songs.
I couldn’t care less about the color of any person’s skin.
Deep down, whether you admit it nor not, we are all akin.
But, me being a racist just tickles me pink.
That’s a new one on me, something I hate to think.
Although you feel I am, I must be saying something right.
Otherwise most of my supporters and followers wouldn’t be white…

DeVyne Tha Messenjah

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What’s in a Name?

Brethren, why do we call ourselves everything under the sun but the one thing we are supposed to strive everyday to be: a man. I’ve heard story after story about who used to do what, be this or was that; but in these conversations I never hear “I was a good husband”, “a loving father”, “a doting son”, “caring brother” or a stand-up person: a man.
I’ve parlayed with the pimps, played with the playa’s, hustled with the hustla’s, swapped clips with the gangsta’s, macked with the macs, jacked dope boys for their sacks, and stole from thieves; it didn’t get me any closer to being a man.
Been a brother to the ones who didn’t have a brother, a father figure to the fatherless, and a friend to ones without a friend. Done broke bread with males considered weak, advised those needing advice. Made friends with those which thought of me as their enemy. What did it get me? I grew some, but still wasn’t a man.
Showed love to people who never loved me back, given to those who never even thought of repayment. Was there for friends and loved ones beck and call. Who was there for me when I fell? I stood alone, still a boy.
While standing alone, it dawned on me that those friendships, kinship’s, imitations and participation earned me nothing because although I used every name and moniker I felt I had to be in my dealings and travel, I still was not a man nor did I ever consider myself to be a man.
I showed the ability to provide, be unselfish and generous. Had attributes that was considered honorable; displayed friendship, loyalty and trust. Doing the things that I was supposed to do, things all considered as having respect. But these things were done all under the false pretense of being everything else but a man. These things didn’t make me a man, actually they made me selfish, self-centered and unilateral in my thinking.
So today my brethren, I say, it is time to become a man. We need to stop calling ourselves names we never meant to be. There is a lot in a name! The world respects men, not those boys that are pretending to be a man. Don’t give yourself a name, unless you plan to live the life of that name…

– Thomas D. Payne

A Dirty Game

My homies eyes turned red as he bled from the gunshot.

Two blinks, one tear and then his heart stopped.

On the wings of an angel did his soul leave.

Time slowed down and then I felt a cold breeze.

As he bled, his blood spread like an oil spill.

Eighteen and he’s killed… now, that’s a raw deal.

Another son gunned down, another brother lost.

He balled hard on these suckas, then he paid the cost.

He couldn’t see the jealousy inside their eyes though.

My little homie lived fast but he died slow.

The irony is telling me that I should pump the brakes

but hateful thoughts begin to overtake.

I wanna up the stakes, take them to full throttle.

Pour the gas on, hang the gas out this ‘Lac

and get my smash on.

I could retaliate, but this cycle will never cease.

Immortal enemies, so we will never kill the beast.

That’s what they want; violence, destruction and blood shed

and won’t be satisfied until we’re laying all dead.

So I hold my head and keep it movin’ just the same.

Trying to keep my hands clean but it’s a dirty game.

– Jah Soul

 

Shots Fired

Man, many are going to hate this, many might feel me. Some will applaud me, some may want to kill me.

Being I never beat around the bush, always speak absolute. I’ve met a few good men in this,

even they can’t stand the truth.

Crippin’ been over for me, so long ago. I was finished trippin’ back in ’92,

my love for the set had diminished.

Though I thought I’d stay down the course for most of my life, had a change of heart

with children and a wife.

I’ve seen a Corrupted Regressive Ignorant Purpose that served me to no end.

Understanding then; those who put me down, didn’t really love me or wasn’t really friends

or kin, to set me up for misery and tears.

Destroying the small progress I’d made; set me back at least ten years.

But what made my ass set off in a new direction other than left, was the vision I had to find my true self.

Who I was and who I am are two different beings, that’s what you get when illumination

transpires before your eyes, truly open seeing.

To all I put down, please know I’m sorry; I sincerely apologize for leading you down a dead-end street

filled with pretense and lies.

Hilltop, I’m sorry. Courtney, I’m sorry. Phil, I’m sorry.

To my brothers, Vinnie T. and Jay, I say I’m sorry.

Jay, it made you go try the other side, a brighter hue.

To my son, Taelor, I didn’t understand then; I’m sorry it affected you too.

Like crack, this was a poison spread through the hood, an epidemic.

Crack, I shouldn’t have sold, the gang never got in it.

But when you are young and dumb, full of verve with nerves to try whatever.

You feel invincible, never seeing the trap pulling the lever.

So to all my ex-set, definitely my big homies. I say today in finality,

ain’t no love between us, y’all phonies.

When you told me back then that the set didn’t travel, slowly but surely the false mechanism

began to unravel.

Now I stand with a new purpose, as I write these verses, a Consciously Responsible Inspired Person.

Until there’s a Community Revolution In Progress; never, ever call on me.

Miss me with that mess.

I know, I know… y’all laughing at me, calling me a mark-ass-nigga.

Only because, I’ve grown to be a M.A.N, something you’re not; go figure…

– Thomas D. Payne