Muse

On September 15th, 1970 the New Orleans chapter of the Black Panther Party held their ground in the Desire Housing Projects against law enforcement in a shootout that lasted over 30 minutes. At 8:00 am over 100 officers in military gear stormed down on the Panther’s headquarters located at 3544 Piety St. and unloaded gunfire in an attempt to eradicate the Black Panther Party from the State of Louisiana. Miraculously no one was killed in this standoff.

Law enforcement made another attempt to raid the headquarters on November 19, but thousands of Desire residents circled the building in a successful effort to protect the members and fend off another violent attack.

In August of 1971 all of the members were found not guilty.

Who shot ya!? Hey, Pac, I’m still on the case because ever since they murdered you none of us have been safe. Was it the police? Was it your homeboys? Was is the KKK? On the Vegas Strip after a fight I’m surprised nobody got it on tape. I remember being nine on the cusp of defiance, rejecting all the heroes I was assigned in my sociology class. I told my teacher they were all murderers or murdered or make-believe, then I played her “Only God Can Judge Me” before she ran to the stereo and threw my cd in the trash. And that’s when I knew you were the hero I’d look up to, somebody not in the history books someone real I could grasp. And then I saw the news you had been shot you had been killed. Then I came back to school and my teacher just laughed. She said I should pick better heroes, somebody not as aggressive, someone on a much better path. Then I had to remind her of Malcolm of Martin of Huey of Fred of Medgar etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, and told her it didn't matter, black heroes don't seem to last. Who shot ya! Hey, Pac, what are we gonna do? How are they gonna find who kills us if they can’t find who killed you? I Wonder If Heaven Got A Ghetto, verse three you sounded something like a prophet. You predicted 20 years ago that police would be out here killing us and we couldn't do anything to stop it. You said, “cops give a damn about a negro, pull the trigger, kill a nigga he's a hero” and now, “the streets are death row.” The cops are judge, jury and executioner and apparently every bit of it’s legal. And I don't know if Heaven’s got a ghetto, but I know its got a long line and there’s some people waiting to get in that could use your comforting because we know Tupac cared when nobody else did. I’m sure we keep you busy up there, we’ll make sure you died for something. Who shot ya? Hey, Pac, your killer is still on the loose. I don’t know if you heard, but they got BIG too. They’re killing everybody that we looked up to. And I know there’s people who will hear this that won’t understand “He was a thug” “He got what he deserved” “His music should have been banned” And those are the same people who fear us when we band together in death. They mock us they incite us when we riot or protest. Who shot ya!? Hey, Pac, maybe it’s best we never know. Jokes on them because they will never be immortalized and you will forever be the hero.

The Forest x The City I ran into the forest because I thought I heard my name, but it may have just been the voices in my head, both them and you all sound the same. They said you never realize you’re lost until you try to go back the way you came, but there is no turning back now, I’ll build my fire here when it gets dark, come find me if you see the flames. I’ll stay here through the night until there is a little light to find my way, but when you see the smoke, the fire’s died, I’ve broken camp and it’s too late. I can navigate by the moon, wandering around until I’m found, but if your trees obstruct it’s view I’ll burn this forest to the ground. And build a city where you stood with buildings that reach higher than your trees ever could, and neon lights, we won’t need fire. And I’ll light you up at night, to where you’ll never see the stars, but you’ll look beautiful from a distance tourist will come by plane, train or barge just to get a picture of you. Or I could build you like they used to, with castles and with walls and erect statues of myself in the center of it all. Until the hurricane comes and earthquake shakes and the city crumbles to the ground and a forest grows in its place.

We love the beauty of flowers so much that we rip them from the ground take them out the sun put them in a vase and then watch them die. Such an ostentatious display of decadence and decay for one to think they can plant a garden inside. But whatever it takes to reaffirm us that we possess just a little bit of light to make tulips bloom in a dimly lit living room for just long enough to give us a glimpse of all the wonder the world has to hide. For just a brief moment we kept something alive. Even if we knew that it would eventually fall apart, we tried and we held out hope because for that short amount of time it was beautiful and we thought we had something to do with it. We felt we were the reason why when those petals finally opened up despite all the darkness we provide.

Superhero

You set your bedroom on fire just to get my attention. You complained I never noticed you. I saw the smoke coming from your window as I walked down your street and heard you screaming for me to break through. Usually one to stand idly by and watch things burn I decided this time to run in and save you.

You wanted to be saved and I didn’t care if any of this was staged I still ran up your fire escape, mask and cape, wanting to be a hero. My only superpowers are superficial. You called for me by name. I made it all the way up to the 3rd floor, kicked in your door, and blew out every flame.

There was nothing left for us but ash and dust. Then things changed.

I’ve been cursed with a vivid memory. I remember everything. Mistakes I’ve made, people who hurt me, that girl in the 4th grade who told me we would get married at 28, all the criticism I’ve gotten, the bad things my friends say about people when they’re not around, the text message I accidentally read when I looked over your shoulder last night, and everything in-between. A vivid memory is unforgiving. The world can be a hard place to navigate when you’re constantly being reminded about all of the things that didn’t go right, or trying to smile at all of your critics. Sometimes I just want to shut down and close myself off, and take a break from pretending. Acting like I don’t remember what happened yesterday, or last year, or when I was 8 becomes exhausting. 

WTF?

All that looking and staring and talking and asking and texting and sweating and calling and meeting and seeing and eating and drinking and repeating and trying and lying and promising and touching and hugging and kissing and licking and sweating and undressing and resisting and submitting and letting go and giving in and moaning and cursing and screaming and cumming and going and pulling out and pulling away and questioning and going with it and rethinking and getting dressed and regret and being quiet and accepting and ignoring and cursing and screaming and crying and lying will have you wondering wtf just happened?

Happy Birthday 2Pac

I remember riding the subway in New York around this time last year and overhearing a kid, no older than 15, say "I really look up to Chris Brown. He can dance, he can sing, he paints, he does it all. He's my hero," and my first thought was - poor kid, he is about to have a rough life. Then my second thought was - this is probably how I sounded some 15 years ago when I told my parents and teachers how much I idolized 2Pac, that he was my hero. And he was. I had every album, every documentary, every book, and almost every movie he was in. And luckily for me, I had a mother who didn't condemn my idolization of 2Pac, but would take me to Blockbuster Music on Carrollton to get his newest albums the day they came out. Yes, 2Pac was my hero, and he was an important one because he was the first hero I chose, the first hero that was not assigned to me by my elders. Sure he was flawed, contradictory, extreme, and sometimes vulgar - but he was also unapologetic, genuine, caring, and determined to uplift those in his community. He made songs like "Keep Ya Head Up," and "Smile," and "Dear Momma," and "I Wonder If Heaven Got A Ghetto" that can still put goosebumps on your neck when you hear them today. Sitting here at 29 and looking back on a life that was cut short at 25 almost two decades ago, I still consider 2pac a hero for the impact he was able to make on an entire generation at such a young age. Sure he made some mistakes along the way, but those mistakes I can learn from without exemplifying them. Pac, the world is a dimmer place without you in it, but a much better one for having you here. Happy Birthday. (Takes sip of Hennessey)

When you die do you get to take your memories with you?

This year I decided to draw my family with cake crowns for their Birthdays. Kings for a day.