Stories of A Graffiti Mind

throw up done by Banksy

Lunch hour rushes in with a chime.  Marcus is lucky enough to find an old bathroom to hide out in.  Practicing his graffiti tag was a favorite pastime that could be seen all over the south side to the police department’s dismay.

As Marcus leaves the bathroom a teacher grabs him by the shoulder. “Gotcha” she says with a stern voice.  “I figured you would be in here, your name is Mr. Green is it not?”  “Hell if I know lady.  Let me go.”  Marcus’s face visibly gets more agitated.  “My name is Ms. Alford and I am the new principle, come with me.”  Confused at this teachers young and fit appearance Marcus complies with her command only after smacking his lips.

Ms. Alford motions for Marcus to walk in front of her.  Marcus knew that it was procedure so that he would not run away.  If she only knew that there was no reason to.  They walk down the war torn hallways until they reach the front of the school.  The office is noticeably the newest addition to the school.

A woman at the front desk frowns as they walk in.  “I told you Cameron this place will chew you up and spit you out.  Leave while you still have the chance.”  Ms. Alford turns around, opens her office door and motions for Marcus to sit.  “Julie this is a job I was born for.”  She closes the door and closes the blinds to blanket the ever watching grey sky.

Marcus could not see in the hallway but now that they were in closer proximity he could smell the youth on her.  Her perfume remains untainted by the mold filled ceiling that plagues the school.  She wore a tight skirt that left a little more to the imagination.

Her eyes then turn and became fixated on Marcus.  “So cut the bull shit what were you doing in there?”  Marcus slips into his seat and looks to the window.

“Come on I am here to try and help you.  I do not see what the big deal is.”  Marcus sucks his teeth in and looks to the clock.  Lunch has just begun.  Ms Alford crosses her arms and reclines in her chair. “You know something kid.  I’m going to tell you something.  Make sure you listen well.”

An uneasy pause sticks in the air adding to the humidity.   ”I used to work for the FBI. I used to bring people in for interrogation all of the time.  Wait let me correct myself, when I brought them in to get questioned I would kick them in their chest then ask questions later.”

“So that is how you got this position.”  Marcus answers in a curious tone.  “Oh so you can talk again.  I am happy now you can help me.  I am not interested into the reasons why you were in that bathroom at this moment.”  “I am not snitching,” Marcus answers without hesitation.

There is no hint of humor in his tone.  Ms Alford proceeds to sit in her chair while Marcus looks at the clock once more.  “No I do not want you to snitch on anyone; I want to learn a little bit more about you as a person.”  Marcus smiles and leans in with more curiosity.  “Me.  What do you want to know?”

Ms. Alford turns her computer chair so that she can cross her slender legs.  “Well first off what is it with you guys and your sagging pants and shoes?  Why are they so important?”  Marcus rolls his eyes and chuckles.  “That is what you want to know?  A former FBI white lady wants to know what makes me tick huh?”

Marcus’s smile fades as his demeanor becomes ghostly serious.  “Lady let me tell you something, you have no idea what you have gotten yourself into.” “Why don’t you enlighten me then?” Ms Alford retorts back with fervor.  “Come on let me know what’s up.”

Marcus takes a final look at the clock and takes a deep breath.  “Lady you have a lot of balls to walk up in here and not know a damn thing about who you have in your school.  The rule of the streets is to know your enemy better than you know yo self.  That way you got all the info that you need.  My pants, Ms Alford, sag because I do not have a belt.

Truthfully it was a style that developed from prisons because they couldn’t have any.  My shoes are a part of my fit.  It is a symbol of respect.  They make the outfit.” Ms. Alford cracks an uneasy smile to interrupt. “You speak so well, why did I catch you ditching class?  I know you have potential.”

“I know I do too, that is the reason why I am here in the first place.  Look let me cut this short.   I have something that I need to do.  First of all, you trying to understand me is a problem in itself.  You have no idea what it’s like to be me.  What it’s like to go hungry and watch dough boys ride around your neighborhood with money bursting outside their pockets.

When is the last time you walked into a grocery store and you got followed around by the clerk.”  Ms. Alford pauses and looks to down to her desk.  Before she can answer Marcus interjects and adds, “Never, never lady.  You tell us to go to school and get an education with books that are outdated.  Do you know how much money I can make in a day?  More than what you make in five years.

Marcus begins to let his passion spill over into his speech.  “Society is the most hypocritical thing I have ever seen.  War on drugs is just an excuse to come into my home late at night.  How can you win something that is completely out of anyone’s hands?  There is always someone who is going to get the short end of the stick right?

I choose to survive.”  Ms. Alford begins to become uneasy, yet her facial expression conveys concern.  “I had no idea about that I just thought it was urban decay.  I’m sorry, that is a term used for a large amount of people living together.”  Marcus’s words ring in her ear like a drum in a quartet.  She catches herself drifting off into thought as Marcus begins to speak again.

“Look here lady your street lesson has come and passed.  That is why I told you all this.  By your standards I would be considered a genius.”  Ms Alford’s face turns to confusion and amazement as Marcus steps to his feet and reaches for his pocket.  Three loud blasts ignite from three separate areas.  The first two go off in unison while the third lags thirty seconds later.  Ms Alford jumps from her chair only to see Marcus with a 38 pistol in his hands.  “Whoa, wait how did they find me?”

The last and final blast sounds off as if they were synchronized.  The office is empty as Ms Alford’s body lays motionless.  Marcus puts his gloves and hood on then climbs through the window.  The fire department and police surround the parking lot looking for the cause of the disturbance.

The blast caused so much confusion that all the faculty jumped up from their seats to guide children to the parking lot.  It was far too late for them to realize that Ms. Alford was really Ms. Kolwalski.  The contract has been fulfilled.

the legend himself

The sun beams over the grey skies making the walls of 79^th street grocery store shine as if it were just painted.  The sun disappears into the chasm of clouds in the sky to reveal the true worn face of the graffiti filled wall.  For some reason this was the neighborhood kids favorite place.

It was rumored that a famous graffiti artist had started his career two blocks down on 79^th and Nadine.  It was an urban homage to those who have ascended to the point of no return.

Marcus walks to the usual spot in front of Lil Steve’s house.  His mother was an all around battle axe.  Her biggest pet peeve is people standing on her grass.  Anyone foolish enough to do so  while she was looking was in for a world of profanity.

Marcus knew her tongue was nothing to play with and probably the reason why Lil Steve was the way he was.  “I’m a lost decedent of a bad ass sailor.”  That is Lil Steve’s answer to anyone who reprimanded him for his language.

Jay and Riley walk up from the south end of the block.  “What’s up man?”  “Nothing G, just waiting for this bum to get out of the damn house.  A yo did you bring the m-eighties?”  Riley smiles and lifts a lighter and a pack from his sagging jeans.  “Of course I wouldn’t forget my boys for the first day of school.”  They all laugh in unison and turn to Lil Steve strolling out his door with a frown on his face.  “What’s good yall. Are we all set for today Mook?”

Marcus turns to the others and smiles an insidious grin.  “Everything will fall into place.”  Lil Steve grabs his sleeve and rolls them up as they walk to the public bus station.  The four boys huddle around each other as Marcus explains the plan for lunch.

There was seventh grade teacher from last year by the name of Mrs. Nowak.  She was the dean of discipline and the boys arch nemesis.   Marcus knew the layout of the school as well as actions that will be taken in case of an emergency.

It was the first day of school and that was the day that the teachers were the most rested.  “They won’t know what hit em.”  Marcus finishes his instructions as the bus pulls in front of Martin Luther King Middle school.  “Don’t nobody forget I will take the fall if anyone slips up.”  The boys disappear into the mass of students yelling and screaming outside the court doors.

The school is said to have been at the peak of its day in the early 1970′s.  It is perfect representation of integration and tolerance that lasted for years.  At least until the demographic of the neighborhood changed.  As the first bell chimes the doors fling open.

The teachers have a sigh of short lived relief as the students invade their home territory, like urban conquistadores.  Marcus lets the pollution fill his lungs because he knows that this will be a jeopardy game in trying to find his friends in the school.  His best bet was to wait until lunch.  Lunch, the time in the day where magical things happen.

“Yo grab his legs Riley, damn.  Stop Looking.”  Lil Steve barks as blood drops down from his sleeves.  “Jay grab mookie and stand back.” Four small figures in the night carry an object wrapped in garbage bags.  The night air around the creek leading into the sewage had an awful smell that the boys knew all too well.  Salt, blood and death, the oldest boy was no more than thirteen years old, yet they had brushed shoulders with the dead many times.  The crescent moon and a man named Charles were the only ones who knew of the boy’s secret.

“Wake up, wake up Moo.” A soft voice chimes into a room.  “Wake up boy, before you be late again.” “Aight Jessica I got you, I’m up.”  Marcus gets out of the mattress on the floor.  There was another mattress on the side of his but it was already made up.  Marcus’ older sister Jessica was a stickler for being on time and would not cut him any slack.

Marcus knew that they did not have much but he and his sister would survive.  That was all there was to it.  They stayed in an abandoned apartment that Mr. Roe leased for a low price since he knew their father.  “Come on boy I have the toast right here,” Jessica was getting impatient because there was a change in bus policy for district 409.

Even though she attended her second year in High School she was required to start school at eight.  “What’s up Jess? Thank you for the grub sis.” Marcus tears into the toast as if it were his last.  Jessica looks behind swinging her long hair and answers,  “No prob Big head.  I gotta go so I will see you later.  Oh, I know, be nice to at least one teacher this year Mook.”

Marcus and Jessica look at each other with their chocolate brown eyes.  Laughter fills the air like a hot air balloon sailing over the Great Lakes.  Jessica locks the door and they both file down the steps only to sift through the stench of urine.  The two go their separate ways once they hit the door.  No one was to know of their home, not even the other boys on the block.  If the state knew that they were living alone they would surly try to take them.

Artist from Sao Paulo, Brazil

A character i feel I embody

I am the Dark Phoenix a precarious Individual of a New Age

Watch me as I wave my Phalang…..es

MY mind’s floating, MIA,

similar two paper planes.

I sit and converse with Amelia Earhart about Quantum physics,

Dark Matter, Different Dimensions, Astronomical claims

We sit and contemplate

“Amelia ,”I say so quickly, no time to double check my question no time to refrain

“If everything is made up of matter, atoms and stars that hold limitless amounts of energy

Were not our energies one in the same at some point in time in the past?”

Amelia turns to me with a ginger bread smile; she tells me that, “with more wisdom less and less people will believe your ideals are RALL!

Her expression lets me know that she is being real.

I thank her and leave her three sided residence,

Astral projecting seeing the world through my third eye perfected

Conversing with the P.I.L.L.A.R.S. of Creation.  They laugh at my soul’s inexperience, underestimating me again, so in turn, I embraced sin, with a magical grin, I fall in love with existence, So Anxious I can’t wait to

PHILeeeeeeeeeeerrr……..

Eating and drinking under a supernova filled night.  Sleeping with the stars, any more information and that just would not be right.

She whispers I am everywhere, so I am not afraid of resistance, She happens to be everything to my dismay, my omnipotent temptress.

Comics call me a sorcerer to be able to flip this, Throw future and destiny into this party mixes.

This is something I would like to call eternal Bliss

Of Knowing. Of Knowing. Of Knowing.  Of Knowing…….

No you are not ready a guardian tells me to stop flowing

For with one side of light there must always be something to avoid!!

Flashing particles are the only thing I recognize as I slip

Three Times To Ten Tragedies, Till Today I Toiled

From the shadows of Love lost, comets a furious bunch!!!

They leave me with doubt Damn their comments as they filter my head with antiquated moss.

So I sit in front of the looking glass, It is uncomfortable

Yet I learn to see the past, my mask

I even gave her presents of my prescience; I see a glimpse of reincarnation, the dawn of a new Age, waiting for me like a blank page, for a designer a Michalange

Body tired from meditating for days,

I suppose that is why my Alias is Doctor Strange

~V~>

Now the past few stories are a fusion of ideas that have been floating around in my mind.  I figured the perfect place to accent this unknown problem is on outlawvoice.com.

The story centers on an esteemed professor.  As a college student I often find professors whose minds are weighting them to the ground.  Intelligence has become a crutch people use to ignore the greater issue. 

There is a rift between the researchers in the field studying social problems and the Professors teaching.  “People in the field are in the trenches, while the professors sit comfortably in their offices.    

 One person reads the scholarly articles and forgets that the statistics and numbers that are before them are true people. 

The researcher in the field then claims that the people sitting behind their desk do not understand. 

This is another major reason why I must write.  To shed light is one aim but my voice shall be the bridge.

Obviously our president is black, yet there are still some mentalities of people getting the short end of the stick. 

When you talk about low public housing and point the finger at these families.  I see their faces.  War torn from trying to make ends meet.

With this economic trend I feel that everyone is striving for the stars lest we forget that our feet are bound by reality. 

Someone is always going to come up short. 

The educators sit in groups and tell vivid stories rivaling Slick Rick. 

My wish for you is to read and discover that we have made strides, hell leaps into the future. 

Even still, let your prejudices wash upon you and fall to the ground.  Let understanding of others unique qualities spark wisdom. 

Keep reading the stories are still coming be looking out for them.  And realize that nothing is idle words. 

There is a message in everything that I say. 

2′s

Welcome to the world from eyes

A young man that looks to be in his twenties walks up the stairs of Chandellor hall. This day in particular seems to have a breath of spring in the air.

The man reaches the door and looks at Professor Boden’s Card. Room 211 was the place that they wanted to meet him in. An insidious smile spreads on his face.

The unknown young man walks to the front of Dr Boden’s office. Carole looks at the young man assuredly and tells him, “He will be with you in a moment handsome.” She looks down at her people magazine only to realize that she has seen this man yesterday. She turns to say, ‘It could not have been you who caused that entire ruckus yesterday, was it?”

Before the man can open his mouth, professor Boden shoots out of the room. He immediately extends his hand and whisks the young man in the room with a thunderous slam.

“Please forgive my abruptness but I wish to keep this meeting as discreet as possible. There are various reasons for this but I will not fill your head with my mindless babble.”

Professor Boden strolls over to the window overlooking the campus. His frosty white hair sits high upon his head, the professor stares out with a look of concern. His voice changes to a more serious vibe.

“What do you think I know?”

A smile opens upon the boys face to a sarcastic reply. “I have no idea what you know. You have your own mind sir.” The man motions his hands with the infamous bunny fingers.

Boden walks over to his desk and sits. “I believe that I know a lot about the world young man. It is knowledge that comes from years of experience.”

The man in the chair sits back in the chair to listen. “You have no idea where I came from son. I ran the streets just like the rest of them. The difference is that I changed because I saw the opportunities.”

The veins on the side of his face begin to become irate. “Son, I am sitting here today because I have taken care of the people that do not represent themselves. I am simply a voice to a quiet city of trees. I wish you no ill will.”

The young man sitting in the chair looks over at Professor Boden square in the eye and calmly says.

“I am not a blackmailer. I am simply a unique student.” The man sits back in the chair and continues. I am a facilitator of wisdom for you see I used to be one of those ills plaguing the city you talk about.”

“Blood and death are cousins to days of life. There is nothing you can show me that I have not already imprinted in my mind through nightmares. I am only here to give you wisdom. For I am a manifestation of all of those studies you have done wrapped up into one. I was hoping that I ran into a professor in college like you. I have much to teach you.

Preconceived notions fade when you look closer

My name is ………….Hello.”

James Boden leaves the podium in a brisk skip. The crowd remains emotionless. He takes the exit to the right of the stage.

Ronny his assistant reassures the crowd that Boden has not been feeling well lately. His sudden rush onto the stage at Boden’s absence leaves the crowd unsure of his validity.

This boy who had caused the esteemed professor to discontinue his boisterous rant; what was his true aim? Was this a purposeful plant of negative publicity since the professor was running for national societal chairman?

These thoughts were pointless insinuations; compared to what the news media is going to write the tommorow.

The crowd is dismissed yet the boy stands in the middle. He lets everyone pass him by. The boy looks more like a man compared to others walking tenderly by.

The man possesses a six foot frame that was no more larger than Ronny himself.  He has a clean cut demeanor yet he wears brown timberland boots.  Hair was clean cut and lined up, but his shirt is brighter than a real color lime.

Ronny walks down the stage past the chattering school personnel. He knew how to handle these situations. Address this before it gets out of hand. The man looks Ronny in the face with grin. They both hold their hands out and shake.

Unbeknownst to the onlookers Ronny not only congratulates the young man. He hands him a card.

Skillfully, masterfully are a card placed on his index and middle finger. The exchange is made like a true package deal.

They happen during the daylight hours, when everyone is watching. Ronny walks off with an uneasy step because of the man’s ominous grin.

A meeting was set for tomorrow at ten in the morning. Chandler hall is to be the spot of intellectual battle. The battle between a famous scholar and a relatively invisible man who stands on humbled sand.

Donate wisdom

James Boden walks up the side of the stairs with prestige and showmanship. There air is filled with anticipation with each step. Professor Boden walks up to the mike and clears his throat.

“Eh Hem. Thank you Lynette for that stunning and entertaining introduction, yet I get the feeling that I am not at all that amazing. I have accomplished many goals and have received many accolades. You too can accomplish anything and more in the future.”

“I am disappointed to say that this is a world our ancestors may not have envisioned.   The world we live in.You know this rock we call home.”

“There is a growing rate of young females who raise their young alone. I see young brothers all of the time signing their lives away for respect. It seems as if the jails are being built specifically for our youth.”

The crowd’s silence is only interrupted by Boden’s pause in speech, and heckling cough that  may be a precursor to a cold. “That is why I feel that we need to focus on the future and help out our lost generation.”

The audience moves like a muli-colored slinky. The front of the room jumps and then the rest of the room subsequently rise to their feet. Julius Caesar would have been jealous of Professor Boden’s appraise. He smiles and tips his glasses to the crowd, signaling for them to halt.

“Now is there anyone with questions? Come on now I know there is someone who has something to ask me. I can feel it” Professor Boden unhands his water bottle and rest it upon the podium.”

A few moments go by and a young man raises his hand. The crowd turns and listens. “So I have listened to you for an hour and a half. I agree with Martin and Malcolm. There is much that can and must be done. True, I feel you on that. But when was the last time you have gone to these streets that you preach about so much? There is a difference between studying something and actually living it.

Have you seen a mother’s face as she holds him with a hole in his chest? Have you seen a man who is determined to succeed in a pile of clawing panthers at his ankles? I guess my real question is what do you tell someone who has nothing and wants everything? Think about it Professor.”

Professor Boden looks over his glasses with bewilderment. Never before had someone questioned his validity let alone methods of social relief.

The professor looks down at his water bottle. He walks off with the silence of death.

It comes in many forms

Untitled

Chris walks down his stairs with excitement on his face. Cheeno down the block says that the shipment would be in early today. He never woke up before noon so Chris has a few hours to survey the business. Walking during the hours of light is always a difficult switch for a child of the night. He waves to the little ones embarking on a journey of PB&J and cursive writing.

They get on the bus on the corner. They will never know that “this” corner is a blatant flag to anyone who passes. It is the sweet spot in the city.

There are many people who agree that its true name is the g spot. A guy can stand there for three hours and come up on a surplus of stimulus the economist never knew existed.

A salty wind from the east succumbs to the pollution. It forms an early fog in an empty lot. Legendary basketball matches fill the texture in the air around the ally. Some of the best players in the world have seen their flashy careers fizzle on a place surrounded by hollow ground.

Many people used to live here in the past. There is nothing left now but the decay of time. Still there is warmth to the rusted pipes and chipped concrete.

Out of a world that was constantly shifting and meandering; the block is a unchanging, unmoving mountain that is his bottom…… There is always something that needs to be moved.

Chris acknowledged that it was fate that leads him to this space of Earth he stood upon. Even the benevolent preacher and his members could not move him from his love. Chris remembers what the old man used to say.

“What is there on this block for you young man? Nothing except for death? The world is out there for you explore and discover!”

Chris always answered with the same response. “Old man the same thing that keeps you driving up and down here on Saturday night hanging out your window. That is what keeps me bound like a ball and chain with my love.”

The rules of politics are simple. There rules of engagement applies to territory. The sheep and the wolf always had to keep appearances. Yet what mask do they have on now?

By venglish