The Police Car

 

I remember writing a poem about a police car back in the day. I remember writing a poems about the sounds of sirens. I think it on my facebook.com/pimpordie   (profile url). I write blogs/notes on several different sites. I have really become the Police favorite. I get pulled over at least three to four times a week. No because I am black... I think its because Success invites the police into your World. Walk around a town with mostly white people... bring with you a Canon EOS SD Mark II. $3,000 and the Stabilizer $2,999. If I forgot to meantion, bring your Laptop, Cd Duplicator and a host of other business material that you use to live life to the fullest. I am not killing people. Why should I be the best target. I do not get upset.. I go harder in the paint. When the Police pull me over... my actions dictate the quality of my life being lead. I can no longer sit and watch Police kill my black brothers and sisters. When I was in Chicago... all I wanted to do was make a few songs and put them in the streets to the people. Police Officers... I do not respect that you would pull me over and search my car --- then let me leave. Not once...Not Twice... but three times... I guess I am a black man creating the life I see before me. I do not sell dope anymore. I do not steal anymore. I do not ride up and down the streets with loud ass muzik playing for sidewalkers to bounce to. I am a Journalist and if being a Journalist take me futher then my raps - so be it! I will tell the truth always and keep my eyes on the world. I am the Author of the Only Dictionary that defines me...R.I.P 2Pac...  I guess I'll take your baton brother and walk it out... ya dig. If I can live for the hood - I'm good. Can someone tell the Police that I am living my life and each time they pull me over...they are just pushing time off the clock... I am not going to jail. I am not giving up my freedom. I am not a slave. duh! My ancestors are watching and guiding me...  let me have a standing Ovation for the people who made it possible for me to walk into Star Bucks, Libraries, College & Universities and of course... walk into the Dream I have. Because of my people - I am free to do whatever, whenever and however to attain the Success of a Black Man in Amerika. Anybody got a blunt? I need to roll up some of my thoughts and smoke the words herein to my next Journey. 

I live for the hood. I go into places where I know others can not and lift every voice.

 

I recognized that street lights come on at that certain time
I understand that I should be home – but she wouldn’t mind if I came in at after nine
Dark as a muthafucka, nothing but sounds of sirens – and a bunch of loud ass voices as usual.
But this time, not as loud as I am used to
Just dark as a muthafucka, nothing but the sounds of sirens
and a bunch of loud ass voices as usual.
One voice sounded familiar ‘not my son God’ please not my baby’ Lord please….
Took my mind into a different state — not the one I live in..but back to the day in Indianapolis
my Couzin Kevin’s wake. And back then, I was in a different state:
Street lights…sometimes… they come on ..just a little- little too -too -late.
Now picture being a little boy in the projects
Naw..picture me in the projects..watching people get shot (what cha’ll call popped)
Watchin’ ho’s get in line (what cha’ll callin’ slapp’d)
we wore uniforms to school…..and to me..that was getting me ready for a jail society.
Fuck dat..over-ruled…I’m speaking true life..
I rather have died the same day my Couzin Kevin’s wake…if I had to re-live his days…I’ll give my life…
More then often…
Street lights…
sometimes…
they come on ..just a little- little too -too -late.
Fowler Holmes Projects
Dixie Holmes Projects
Lamar Garden Projects…Memphis Tenn I write..
This society I live in now solve circumstances by doin’ wrong and Preachin’ right.
Street lights…sometimes… they come on ..just a little- little too -too -late.
Street Lights Part 1