Nothing more than feelings

So Good

Young Kasparov

Vertical Adventure

This would be the first mural gig I have had without the 30 percent cut damn right sun damn right. It was truly a blessing to be back at the spot where I use to build myself up in one critical time of my life. $1500 for about 16 hours in total.. not bad, not bad at all but there is still much to improve on. Oh mighty universe please Give me another wall!!!



The quote is from one of the first rock climbing videos I have ever seen in my life (nearly five years ago). What I enjoyed most about it was putting the video on mute and listening to Wu-Tang's 36 chambers to switch up the dynamic of it. I found it fascinating...

Big Colorful Diaries from the Strange One

Don't Blame Me, Blame the Art

So I got a gig to paint half naked women at Vivid nightclub for 200 dollars one night for 4 hours. Does that make me a bad man? Of course not. It would be an awful lie if eye were to say that I didn't enjoy my time. I would certainly be down for another round.

I received word from the Gallery that my Basquait piece will be on the cover of the next Uniter issue. Finally, after one year of trying to get my shit together, it's going to happen. But it doesn't stop here.. Oh no folks, eye shall proceed

Wrong or Write?

Wrong or Write?

It was the fear of losing stability that kept that inborn beast within me, tamed, and timidly isolated in mother’s basement, over-analyzing the world, going mad, getting so afraid to take leaps and bounds into new territory. I was beginning to settle down, keeping a budget, guarding my fun with funds, playing the safe side, gracefully growing into the 25 year old man that I was ‘supposed’ to be; a mature, well-organized, self-sufficient contributor to society, who would diligently continue to uphold his responsibilities as a ‘real adult’.

Fortunately, months and months of untiring curiosity had eventually overthrown my fears, when finally, I decided that putting security on the back burner, and buying a plane ticket to Montreal would be well worth the experience. So off I went, feeding my inquiring mind what it was longing for, a breath of ‘French air’. I was riding the waves, instinctively seeing where life would take me next.

Among the many beautiful places that I had stumbled upon during my trip, there was a small bookstore called “Coup de Coeur”. It was there where I came across “The biography of Hunter S. Thompson”, a man who I had heard so much about, yet knew very little of, thus, engulfing myself once again in my curiosity. Thirteen days of roaming around the city as a free soul, while getting acquainted with the Wild Man of American Journalism, downright did it for me. The combination of my gullible mind, along with Hunter’s crazy life stories, was all that was needed to restore the youthful vigour back into my inner beast.

I returned home to Winnipeg feeling invincible again, double daring myself to do the unthinkable; taking a stolen wheelchair for a spin, smoking cigarettes, drinking profusely, and getting back into the reckless habits that I once had when I was a teen. I was once again, a rebel on the edge, and in all honesty, it felt amazing! I understood the psychology behind it, or at least had a grasp on the idea of why I was so drawn to the edge of my existence, and why I felt so compelled to do such outrageous things, yet despite knowing all of this, I still continued to feed my ignorance.

September 7, 2009 – Breakfast at the Nook (Labour Day Drama)

The small talk between Gumshoe and I was interrupted by a freshly served Spanish omelet served right under my nose. While digging into my flavorful meal, I continued reading on about Mr. Hunter S. Thompson, chuckling away at his barbaric and crazy life stories, slowly growing spellbound, to the point that I could imagine myself, as him. I would read, drink my coffee, and lean back against my chair, as I would imagine him doing it in the same fashion.

It was like a classic tale of Irony in the making, as half way through my book; four police officers walked into the Nook and sat down directly at the table across from me. Every once in a while, in between chomping on some eggs, and entertaining myself with Hunter’s stories of encounters with the police, I would observe the officers in front of me, taking mental notes of their mannerisms, while on and off, redirecting myself back to Hunter’s biography. There they all were, talking amongst themselves, waiting for their grub, enjoying their Labour Day morning, while I, alone in my zone, sat quietly, picking bones from my plate.

When my meal was all done and paid for, I walked out the restaurant with a bittersweet taste in my mouth, and a few planned activities for the afternoon in mind, but as I proceeded to the back parking lot, my afternoon agenda soon became tainted with an abrupt, and beastly idea. In my wicked imagination, I began to make the connection between the colorful painting materials sitting in the back trunk of my car, and the plain white police cruiser that had been parked directly right beside it. In that blood-rushing moment of time, all I could picture in my head were the facial expressions that the officers would make, when they would come back to their beloved car only to realize that it had been decorated in pretty pink colors. Unfortunately for me, my idea of hilarity had been poorly supported by carelessness, which later resulted in the officers having the last laugh, as they tracked me down 2 hours after my daring move.

No matter how you flip the coin, in this society, painting the words “OINK OINK!” in pretty pink along both sides of a Police cruiser is deemed as “Wrong!”

It was the second time I felt that cold steel wrapped around my wrists. They don’t give you much leg room in that car of theirs. It was the most awkward elevator ride that I had experienced in my life. Not even the memories of the mysterious homeless man with the brown stains, and bad odour in his pants could rival this story. There they all were, crowded around me, like a big group of angry fathers, raising their voices, pulling the intimidation card on me. “You must think it’s pretty funny writing ‘Oink Oink” on the car don’t you!? Are you calling us pigs?” Why did you do it!!?? I responded with the word “Ignorance”, which contrarily lessened the amount of intimidation casted upon me.

Room number four, nothing to look at but white walls, a sprinkler, and yourself from the neck down. You notice the simple things, like the little specs on your skin, or how long your toe nails are. I sang and recited poetry, and free styled about how stupid it was to spray paint a cop car, hoping that maybe if they could hear me, they would bless me with the same luck as my first arrest, when I was granted a discharge for reciting a poem for the judge, and a court room full of convicts. Maybe luck would indeed strike twice? Perhaps they too, would wonder what the hell on earth possessed such a brilliant kid to do such a thing.

After one phone call, and about three hours of sitting around, getting threatened to be taken to remand, they finally moved me into the interrogation room, where they showed me photos of my latest ‘art piece’. “Did you do this?” they asked. I was a mute, mentally wrestling with one of two options; the advice from legal aid, which was not to say a word until a visit from a real judge, and; the curiosity behind whether or not I would be granted a quick release if I were to plead guilty.

After about twenty minutes of doing the mime routine, I finally gave in, admitting to my wrongs, taking responsibility for my actions. It was quite obvious who the vandal was; red Honda Civic with matching license plate numbers, a tool shed painted from top to bottom, a pink can in the passenger seat. In contrast, I suppose one could say that I was caught ‘pink handed’.

One of the officers, who studied my demeanor throughout my moment of silence, spoke on my behalf, voicing his speculations, assuming that it was just a lapse in judgment on my part. When asked, “What compelled you to do such a foolish thing? I wanted to tell them that it was Hunter’s fault for being so damn inspiring! But I had the hint that they wouldn’t really take that as a rational answer. Instead, I told them that it was simply a wrong move on my part, and that in the moment of my wrongdoing, I had lost all logic. Before calling it a wrap, they left me with an opportunity to share whatever was on my mind, clearly stating: “now is your chance to say whatever you need to say”. Their offer had only sparked one thought, and that was to show them who I was, by sharing what I do, and so I spoke...

I use to say “Forget the money!”, with a passion
Back when there was nothing but drinking, smoking, and rapping
Laughing life away like there was no price to pay
for staying out late writing my name up on the trains
Never played the game, instead, I went against it
Raised fist and all, splashing war paint on walls
Breaking laws with a smile, momma’s lost child
Who use to run wild with a low profile
Playing at my own risk, paying no mind to the mileage,
Living like I was next on Gods’ soon-to-die list
But oh how it changes, how life rearranges
How clear and present dangers suddenly seem safer
Forced into a corner, taking orders, chasing paper,
Thinking to myself how much I really hate to
Go to school, getting so confused about what to do
Its like you go to class, kiss a$$, or say forget the rules

But son, it’s easier said than done
when we live within a system that runs on funds
It is the reason why those stuck up kids deal drugs
And the reason why sometimes we have got to leave the ones we love
Work hard, get rewarded, that’s just the way that some jobs are kid
You can’t be an artist if you don’t know how to market
Pardon me, for telling you all these bits,
But you can’t discard the facts, because that’s just the way it is

Do not enter, do not cross, do not disturb
If you know the truth and got the proof, do not say a word
Go to work, get paid, lace your shoes, run the race,
Put a mask on your face, just to make the next day
You hate this place, but you can’t escape it,
Infinite like figure 8’s you were born into the matrix
With not enough guts to do anything about it
So it’s best you just shut your mouth and bow down kid
I will not allow this unjust matter to continue
I will strip you of your ability to let loose
I’ve got strict rules, and you have got to follow it
I don’t care if you’re sick, you still got to work tomorrows shift
The hunt for the dividends will never end
You will forever spend money on food and medicine
Regardless of culture, religion or gender,
I’ve got your whole world affected by afluenza
You’re the renter, well I’m the owner,
The poker faced money motor joker/ game controller
Holding your diploma
So show up, but don’t forget who feeds you,
the root of all evil that makes us unequal
You’re crawling on all fours of this monopoly board
With your shopping sprees helping my economy soar
Take the house, take the cigarettes, take the corvette,
Take the 4 year art course even if you can’t afford it
It goes eat, sleep, work, stress,
go to school, go in debt pay it off until you’re dead”
Get up, get busy, get going, go hustle,
do anything you can do to get through the struggle.
Cash rules everything around me
C.R.E.A.M
Get the money

The officer leaned forward, up from his seat, took a closer look at me, and asked: “was that improvised?” I replied, “No officer, it was written about a year ago when I felt a lot more grounded with my life”. He said “I don’t know what the hell you call what you just did right now, but take my advice son, and stick to doing that, not spray painting cop cars. You have a better chance of doing something good with your life if you stick to that”. Suddenly, I could feel a sense of respect coming over me. The tone of their voice, and their actions toward me had changed.

After all the paper work, the photo taking, and fingerprint documenting, it was finally time to leave. While being escorted out, he uttered his last words to me, saying: “You’re really interesting you know that. I wish we could have met somewhere else” But in my mind, I questioned the likelihood of us meeting without the paint sprayed in between our worlds, and thought that it would never have happened otherwise.

Apart from being scheduled for a court date, and dreadfully worrying about how I would break the news to my poor mother about what had just happened, I was somewhat grateful for the experience, as it brought my feet back to the ground, and redirected my focus to more important matters in my life. It was with this indebtedness, that I shook the officers’ hand, thanked him, and took his advice into account. I went home, I picked up my pen, and I did what I do best…

Write!

Unhealthy Shmuck

Note to Self. Excercise. Get back into shape.

Deadication 808 word count

“Deadication”

This poem is ‘deadicated’ to YOU
To the one who told me that
it was game over
before I even had a chance
To insert my very last quarter
Into the slot and press start
To the ones who placed
All their bets against me
And relied on nothing but luck
To prevent me From pulling out a wild card
To the big muscle bound bullies,
The non believers
The judges,
The ‘Siskel & Eberts’
(Those prejudice bastards!)
And the never ending questions
That I always tried to answer
To the best of my ability,
But was never quite good enough
Because it wasn’t quite exactly
What you wanted to hear
This poem right here
Is ‘deadicated’ to every stuck up girl
in my grade 10 school year
who called me ugly,
and made me feel like
I would never have a beautiful lady
By my side whom I truly could say
“I love to you too”
This is ‘Deadicated’ to every direction
That told me to go left
When I chose to go right instead
Because I wanted to prove THEM wrong
And…to every time limit that spoke,
As if it were saying that
“That half-Japanese,
Half-Chinese looking Filipino kid
Speaking to me right now is
taking way too long to get his point across!”
This one is deadicated to my Father,
Whom at first, Failed to see the
true beauty of hip hop culture
Labeling it as nothing but a gateway
To drugs, sex, and gang related violence
And…to my high school math teacher,
who pushed me to do my assignments,
only because the answer key
In the back of his textbook
Showed me that success,
Was merely just a product of the focus,
multiplied by the x number of times
That one follows the rules,
And Failure, was simply just a sum
Of the fight plus the freedom
To do whatever you wanted to do
“You want to be a poet!?
You want to be an artist!!??
No, no, no…
You mean that you want to be a broke ass bum
Begging for change on stage
Because that will not support you through life
And while most of my colleagues
Took what he said for granted
I took it to the heart
Started to think of all the possibilities
Of getting off to a fresh start
I thought of everything you saw as unrealistic
And then I thought about packing my bags
And leaving when you said,
Uh uh, no way, it is not going to happen
No return of the dragon,
No second try,
Just one long hard cry,
Followed by one sad goodbye,

Goodbye!!!

…But…but…but
As time flied by,
and I grew wise
I began to realize
How easy it would be
To just; throw in the towel
Raise the white flag,
And utter the simple words
“I Quit”
..and yes, for a while there
I must admit that you did have my King in check
Stole my queen right before my eyes
And broke my heart
Quicker than I could ever break a sweat
But just like any bet
Placed against a one to five odd,
Just like any kid whose had his ass whooped
So bad to the point that
He has decided that he’s going to do more
Than just dodge that much the next time around
Just like any dead tree,
That should not be considered dead at all
For as long as there is still
blood pumping from the pen,
those who believe those who suck
will eventually suck on those who suck,
because you better believe
that those who suck
will ‘suck-ceed!’…in the end
what does not kill me will only make me stronger
but you see strength is not measured
by the amount of muscle mass in the body
Strength is measured by that heart-filled, mindful will
that carries you through that long impossible journey
Therefore, before a classroom full of clenched fists
gets dismissed from class
I will race you to the flagpole
At the sound of the 3:30 school bell,
And I will beat you to the punch
Yes I will beat, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat,
beat myself to death nine times
And resurrect ten times afterwards,
Before you could lay one hand on me
For every time I fall, I will rise
With the hopes of you forgetting my name
So that I could have the joy of re-introducing you
…My name is poetry,
Embodied by both Gods and Goddesses
Who will live my life for as long as you will listen
And will continue to believe
that for as long as there is a will
There WILL be a way,
To weight out the probability with the possibility
Of having one
Brand new,
Beautiful day
So please…
Get out Of my way

Life Path Soul Urge N S N

With a number 6 Soul Urge, you would like to be appreciated for your ability to handle responsibility. Your home and family are likely to be a strong focus for you, perhaps the strongest focus of your life. Friendship, love, and affection are high on your list of priorities for a happy life. You have a lot of diplomatic tendencies in your makeup, as you a able to rectify and balance situations with an innate skill. You like working with people rather than by yourself. It is extremely important for you to have harmony in your environment at all times.

Positive Traits : The positive side of the 6 Soul Urge produces a huge capacity for responsibility; you are always there and ready to assume more than your share of the load. If you possess positive 6 Soul Urges and express them, you are known for your generosity, understanding and deep sympathetic attitude. Strong 6 energy is very giving of love, affection, and emotional support. You may have the inclination to teach or serve your community in other idealistic ways. You have natural abilities to help people. You are also likely to have artistic and creative leanings.

Negative Traits : If you have an over-supply of 6 energy in your makeup, you may express some of the negative traits common to this number. With such a strong sympathetic attitude, it is easy to become too emotional. Sometimes the desires to render help can be over done, and it can become interfering and an attitude that is too protective, rather than helpful. The person with too much 6 energy often finds that people tend to take advantage of this very giving spirit. You may tend to repress your own needs so that you can cater to the demands from others. At times, there may be a tendency in this, for becoming over-loaded with such demands, and as a result become resentful.


A Life Path 5 person is usually very versatile, adventurous, and progressive. With a 5 life path, you are one of those people who is always striving to find answers to the many questions that life poses. You want to be totally unrestrained, as this is the sign of freedom and independence. You abhor routine and boring work, and you are not very good at staying with everyday tasks that must be finished on time. You are, however, a good communicator, and you know how to motivate people around you, perhaps inclining you to be a teacher of some sort. A love of adventure may dominate your life. This may take the form of mental or physical manifestation, but in either case, you thrill to the chance for exploration and blazing new trails. You are apt to be multi-talented, but just as likely to suffer from some lack of direction, and there is often some confusion surrounding your ambition.

Positive Traits : The number 5 personality is rather happy-go-lucky; living for today, and not worrying too much about tomorrow. It is important for you to mix with people of a like mind, and try to avoid those that are too serious and demanding. It is also important for you to find a job that provides thought-provoking tasks rather than routine and redundant responsibilities. You do best dealing with people, but the important thing is that you have the freedom to express yourself at all times. You have an innate ability to think through complex matters and analyze them quickly, but then be off to something new.

Negative Traits : In the most negative application or use of the 5 energies, you could become very irresponsible in tasks and decisions concerning your home and business life. The total pursuit of sensation and adventure can result in your becoming self-indulgent and totally unaware of the feelings of those around you. In the worse case situations negative 5's are very undependable and self-serving.


The number 11 Life Path has the connotation of illumination describing its general focus. This is the number associated with spiritual awareness. As one of the two master numbers, the 11 yields understanding and knowledge beyond the grasp of others. The attitude toward life of those possessing this Life Path is somewhat extreme; extremely intuitive, avant-garde, idealistic, visionary, and cultured. These extremes make you an interesting, if unusual person, with much to offer society.

Positive Traits : The Life Path 11 person is deep-thinking, and you are no doubt interested in understanding many of life's mysteries and more intriguing facets. Your inventive mind and broad-minded views will permit you to succeed in life in any number of ventures. You can best serve society, however, in those endeavors utilizing your skills of counseling and guidance. Much of your idealism is people oriented and quite humanitarian in nature. You expect a great deal of yourself and of those to whom you are close.

Negative Traits : This is a Life Path that seems to feature broad mood swings between the elation and depression. You are likely to have trouble making decisions and getting your life in gear, so to speak. There is a tendency for the 11 to harbor feelings of uneasiness, and dissatisfaction with accomplishments and personal progress in life. Your grandiose schemes usually make sense, but you can get off the track and they can be very impractical. You have a very distinct side that lacks common sense, and you are quite often unable to distinguish between fantasy and reality. In this regard, you are perhaps more of a dreamer than a doer. When you do get on target, your ideas seem to have been inspired on high. Perhaps you are not a leader, but you are a visionary and a very talented idea person.

Pogs On my Mind

"my mother observed with pain the alteration perceptible in my disposition and habits, endevaored by arguments deduced from the feelings of her serene conscience and guiltless life, to inspire me with fortitude and awaken in me the courage to dispel the dark cloud which brooded over me"

Twice

Dig It

Stay In School

Now heres a little story
that must be told
about a gifted young child
who was always told
that he would never
make it to the top of the honour roll
or for that matter
even dare come close
everybody would joke
and make fun of the young kid
saying things like
"its just a matter of time
before he calls it quits"
In the race to get the first A plus
he'd finish last
get mad
and feel so tempted to skip class
but good for him...
because he never did
instead he kept his head
in the books
doing whatever he could
while all his so called friends
were up to no good
he kept pushing hard
pushing toward the awards
pushing far passed the
point of falling apart
for years
through many stressful tears
he worked like a dog
now the tables have turned
and hes on top of the charts
as the big man In charge
who handles YOUR marks

now thats heart


it goes F for lack of Focus
and all the Failed attempts
D for Direction towards Development
C for getting Closer to getting it Correct
B for anyBody who gives it their best
A is for Aint nothing better
than Aiming All the way
to the top of the class
with Above Average grades

Ignorance

IGNORANCE

non chalantly
Im pissing on your favorite ghandi quotes
watching hope get lost
and get caught between
the calm breeze and chaos
without structure
Im out to play
blind sighted
like ray charles
messing with fake broads
who break hearts
plus more
harassed by laws
I react with an "up yours" (of course)
there is no god
just me the self centered
ill tempered young dirty bastid
feeling no guilt like demastas
it all thrust kill destory the stress
in that badboyish manner
sick as the cancer sticks
I puff for no reason
Im shit out of luck
gassed up
with heavy breathing
but demons in my lungs
are fiending for more
I try to leave them
but they always seem
to reach me when Im bored
so on with another
numb experience
having fun playing dumb
way too far from being serious
chilling with
the silliest affiliates
known for doing risky biz
in some of the busy zones
and Even though
the deeper
part me objects
eye trek on like a star
pretending it aint hard
to cover up
struggling to
flex the brain muscles cause
nowadays nobody want to dig
for that "others" stuff
that undercover love
and oh what a bummer it is
but who gives
when dignity no longer exists

ignorance is bliss

No more mister nice guy
say goodbye to Mr. righteous!!
I know youll miss him dearly
but he needs to get a vice grip
light a spliff get loose
and just do what dummies do
live in a world with no rules
and no second guessing
just charging through
maze walls
with the loose cannon
as the top choice of weapons
bringing more destruction
and less building
throwing curves and spitballs
to avoid any catchy feelings


Theyd rather root for the villain
so I might as well
give em what they want
live by the words of Dogo
and "only see once"
so openly blunt
I abandon anything strategic
shun all procedures
like its death to the chess pieces
then wrap my suffer ring
around my middle finger
and like a poor righteous teacher
pay no attention
to the big picture
with no time to wait
Im shooting from the hip
scoring short term goals
while the long ones fade
Fuck a budget
I put my piggie bank
on a weight-loss program
and like rocky
I just roll with the punches
on the edge
talking like every things'
off the head
with no concept of stop when red
so so def with no stress
I step with finesse
call me hunter s
thomspon stomping on your
best dressed suit
under arrest
still ploughing through
your barricades
ner 2 dares to stare
fear in the face
with no apologies
it be the smooth criminal
nothing could stop me
cause hell..
I'm invincible!!!!!!!!!

Its ignorance because Ive seen the other side

Rough Draft 1 Word Count: 1845

Wrong or Write
It was hesitation and fear that kept me locked in mom’s basement, driving myself crazy, over analyzing the world around me, so afraid to take leaps and bounds and step on new territory. I was beginning to settle down, slowly growing into the 25 year old man that I was ‘supposed’ to be; mature, responsible, and independent, but in a flash of...I decided to buy the ticket and enjoy the ride. I was keeping a budget holding in my money, playing the safe side, and swearing not to repeat history by becoming my father, a gambler, and a bad budgeter.
I came home feeling invincible again. I took a wheelchair for a spin, started smoking, drinking, and getting back to the reckless habits that I had when I was a teen. I was on the edge and it felt amazing. I understood the psychology of it, or at least had a grasp on the idea of why I was so drawn to the edge of my existence, and why I felt so compelled to do such outrages things. Though despite knowing this all, I still continued to feed my ignorance.
...
Two weeks after i came home from Montreal, my mother came home from her month long trip from the Philippines. She brought back the usual; boxes full of desserts that I will probably never consume, clothes that i will never wear, and other handmade goods that we can’t get here in Canada. Of course, she also came home with a stack load of Photos. Of this large stack of photos, there were only three that spoke to me, so I pulled it out of the deck and kept it with me.
One of the photos was of my god daughter, who had the cutest devilish grin known to man, the second was my mother in a ”you are under arrest, hands on the head”-pose underneath a waterfall, beside a topless mermaid. The third photograph was of a large mama pig, and her babies drinking her milk.
Talk about irony. I look at the photo of my God daughter and think, oh wouldn’t be nice to be that young again? So innocent, where the worst thing that could ever happen to a child spray painting a cop car, is a spank on the bum, and a lecture about what is right and wrong. The pigs in the picture to me, reflected family struggle. Here they all where, these little pigs feeding off their mother. That was a “real” pig. Here in Canada, the culture that I surround myself in, will consider the term pig as a term used to describe an officer in a navy blue uniform who drives around town dunking donuts into a coffee mug from robins while so much is going on. They give the term to the corrupt ones, who aren’t doing their jobs, or making stupid mistakes like barging into an apartment with a false warrant, and realizing that they’ve got the wrong people. The last photo of my mom doing the pose, was very strange to me. She had a gigantic smile on her face, in her speedos. It I guess it’s because im so used to seeing her in more classy shots. In any case, I still things its strange how these photos tie into my encounter with the police or as counter culture members would say, pigs.
Our worlds are so different. In the Philippines, the pigs stink. They wreak. The pigs here are in navy blue uniforms with guns and handcuffs, and a mouthful of rights ready to be recited to the next offender.
The small talk between Gumshoe and I was interrupted by the fresh smell of a Spanish omelette served right to my table. While enjoying my dry tasting meal, I continued on reading the biography of Hunter s Thompson, who upon reading the first fifty pages of his book, became an instant hero. He was an admirable writer, with a wild edge who was beginning to inspire the beast in me to be comfortable about showing itself to the world. By the time that I was finished with my meal, 4 police officers had come into the Nook. They sat at the table directly across from me. Every now and then I would observe their mannerisms while redirecting myself back to Hunter’s biography. I thought nothing of it really. They were talking amongst themselves waiting for their food. I thought nothing of it until of course I made my way to the parking lot, and that’s where it all fell down.
I stepped inside my vehicle, put the book down beside me, and upon doing so, I noticed a pink spray can that been sitting in the passenger seat. Instantly an idea popped into my head. Directly to my left (evil ) hand side was a police cruiser with no one inside, and all I could picture in my head at the point were the facial expressions those officers would make when they came back to their vehicle only to realize that their car had been decorated in pretty pink. Initially, I wanted to paint the whole vehicle pink, but I realized that I didn’t have the time. It was also broad daylight, and the chances of getting spotted were pretty not as slim as I, so I settled for words, and bolted out of there.
No matter how you flip the coin, in this society, painting the words “oink oink!” in pretty pink along the sides of a Police cruiser is deemed as “wrong”. It was the first time I felt that cold steel wrapped around my wrists. They don’t give you much leg room in there. Room number four. Nothing to look at but white walls and a sprinkler, and yourself from the neck down. Ou noticed the simple things, like the little specs on your sin, or how long your toe nails are. I sang and recited poetry, and freestyled about how stupid it was, hoping that they if for some reason they had hidden cameras and a microphone propped inside there somewhere that they would hear me, and scratch their heads wondering what the hell on earth possessed this kid to do such a thing. I noticed that there were some carvings along the door. The worlds “hel me” were carved into it, along with some other words like native killa, and others I couldn’t quite make out.
I admitted to my wrongs. If there wasn’t enough evidence to support the case I would have fought or played mindgames with them, but I was no where close to having enough. I was not prepared to go to war. It was pretty obvious who the vandal was.. Red Honda civic with matching license plate numbers, a toolshed painted from top to bottom, a pink can in the passenger seat... I was caught pink handed. Apparently there was a surveillance camera, and someone had taken down the license plate. I’ve head about scare tactics before, and part of me was sensing this coming on to me. We’re going to take you to remand, we’re going to hold you in custody for as long as get that information. We want you to cough up your story, and we’l leave you alone. I was being threatened to be taken to remand. I don’t know why, but It didn’t phase me. Not until things happen, does it really strike me. I just wanted to go home so I could finish my painting.
They showed me the photos, and so I went against the words of the legal aid, because I felt it was necessary to take responsibility for my actions. Even if it was a lapse in judgement, it was my doing, and playing games wasn’t going to help. You caught me!! I wasn’t proud of getting caught, but it happens. They listened to what I had to say when asked “what compelled you to do such a thing”. I wanted to tell them that it was Hunter’s fault for being so damn inspiring but I had the hint that they wouldn’t view that as a rational answer.
They gave me an opportunity to share anything else.They said to me do you have anything to say for yourself? because “now is your chance”. Those words only influenced one thing, and that was to rap! So I did!...
I used to say fuck money with a passion
Back when there was nothing but drinking, smoking and rapping
Laughing life away like there was no price to pay
For staying out late writing my name out on the train
Never played the game instead I went against it
Raised fist and all splashing war paint on walls
Breaking laws with a smile, mamas lost child
Who used to run wild with a low profile
Playing at my own risk paying no mind to the mileage
Living like I was next on Gods’s soon to die list
But oh how it changes how shit rearranges
How clear and present dangers suddenly seem safer
Forced into a corner
Taking orders chasing paper
Thinking to myself how much I really hate to
Go to school getting so confused about what to do
Its like go to class kiss ass or say fuck the rules
But son, its easier said than done
When we live within a system that runs on funds
Its the reason why those stuck up kids deal drugs
And the reasons why sometimes we have to leave the ones we love
Work hard, get rewarded thats just the way jobs are kid
You can’t be an artist if you don’t know how to market
Pardon me for telling you all this shit
But you can’t discard the facts because that’s just the way it is.
It goes eat, sleep, work stress, go to school go into debt
Pay it off until your dead.

He asked me if I just came up with that right now? Or did you write that before. I said I wrote it before. He said that’s intelligence! I don’t know what the hell you call what you just did, but take my advice son, and stick to doing that, not spray painting cop cars. You’ve got a better chance of doing something with your life if you stick to that. He said were going to do some paper work, and then you’ll be out of here as soon as possible. I think the fact that I made their job easy, by knowing what I did wrong, and coming in there giving them something they’ve heard of in their life changed their perceptions of who was locked in their cell. “ Do you need anything, would you like some water, would you like to use the washroom? Instantly, i could feel this sense of respect.
Before I left, I shook his hand, thanked him. Went home, sat on my wheelchair, inserted a blank paper in to my typewriter and followed his advice, sticking to what I was good at, writing.

historee

the elements of hip hop go beyond the dance
to the streets where artists take a chance
in the bronx where young men on the go
paint trains and walls like picasso
graffiti is what they call their art
and its here where they get their start


now we are today in order to induct to the rappers hall of fame
its just a few of the rappers who ever made rap the life and fame
it didnt start with the sugar hill gang
it didnt start with kurtis blow
it didnt start with flash or the furious five
you could take it from I know
were going back to the roots where it all began
at radio stations all over the land
with jocko hot rod and monteyhue
djs who rap like djs do
with names like hatter and dr. jive
in the 50's and 60's keeping rap alive
just a step for our tradition
where rap will take on a social mission
rap gives kids a whole new way
to express themselves and sometimes pabe
you might have told that you were no good
but with rap you were the king of the neighborhood



that person who use to see on tv
was the worlds greatest rapper muhammaed ali
in the days when he was cassius clay
was the first national rapper in the u.s.a


he's goiing around saying hes the championship fighter
but we meets me he'll fall twenty pounds lighter
he thinks hes the real heavyweight champ
but after im finished hell just be a tramp
now im not saying this jsut to be funny
but im fightying earny cause he needs the money
I decided to let him make a little bread
but the catch is i must whoop his ass
now i understand he wants to stand toe to toe
and whip me trade blow for blow
but if hes hip hell take a dip
because I plan to bust his lip


bambataa was always a music man
a record colelctor who as a dj jammed
now he saw a new idea
so use stand and prowl in his career
to put the bronx in a music trance
and move from violence to zulu dance
and so it became hip to hop
in the land known planet rock
where gangs use to fight in the street everyday
now they began to compete in a different way
as the djs music make the house shake
the dancers would begin to break
some electric boogie to move like toys
others would spin! and became b-boys



i think hip hpo is being in control of your body
thats the whole art of it

Rest Well Lola

Bill Withers - Grandma's Hands
=================================================
(Verse)
Em
Grandma's hands
Em
Clapped in church on Sunday morning
Em
Grandma's hands
Em A
Played a tambourine so well
Em
Grandma's hands
Used to issue out a warning
Em A G
She'd say, "Billy don't you run so fast
A G
Might fall on a piece of glass
A G
"Might be snakes there in that grass"
Em
Grandma's hands

(Verse)
Grandma's hands
Soothed a local unwed mother
Grandma's hands
Used to ache sometimes and swell
Grandma's hands
Used to lift her face and tell her,
"Baby, Grandma understands
That you really love that man
Put yourself in Jesus hands"
Grandma's hands

(Verse)
Grandma's hands
Used to hand me piece of candy
Grandma's hands
Picked me up each time I fell
Grandma's hands
Boy, they really came in handy
She'd say, "Matty don' you whip that boy
What you want to spank him for?
He didn' drop no apple core"
But I don't have Grandma anymore
A G
If I get to Heaven I'll look for
Em
Grandma's hands