Father Figure (WIP)

Mariah just sat in her car, dumbfounded and unable to move.

She sits parked in front of the house, trying to process all that she had just experienced.  All was fine  and peaceful, up until her book signing this afternoon.  Her life was undisturbed and full of light, with everything being on the upswing.  She had her career as an adjunct professor of English at one of the local colleges in the area; and was celebrating her most recent milestone of being a published author.  "Father Figure: Memoirs of a Conscious Daughter" wasn't just her first book, it was her ode to her father; the man that raised her, that taught her everything despite not being her father by blood.  He treated her as his first born, his prized child, teaching her everything, being her hero.  And now...?

My father...a cheat?!

Mariah just shakes her head.  She loved Kevin Santos, the only that father she's ever known.  His community activism and strident beliefs had always inspired her; his love and dedication to his people always showed her that anything in this world was possible.  Even after the birth of her younger siblings, Kevonne and KJ, she was still his special girl.  He was the one that inspired her to become a teacher.  Not everybody is a soldier in the same way, he would always tell her, Some fight in the streets, while others can fight elsewhere.  Making him the subject of her book was her way of thanking him for all that he had done for her...for their entire family.

Daddy...a cheater?!?!

She couldn't wrap her head around it.  All was fine until her latest book signing at Knowledge As Supreme Bookstore & Cafe.  People had come out to support her book; her work colleagues and students, her dad's activist associates, the many friends and neighbors that they had. It was an exhilarating experience to be loved and supported by so many.  It was great for her personally as a coming out party, and a boon for the owner of the business.  At that moment, she felt that life couldn't get any better than this...

Then...she had to meet her!

Kevina "Vina" Parrish.

Mariah was shocked to meet Vina, on many different levels.  When she first saw her, she looked almost exactly liker her younger sister Kevonne.  With the exception of Kevonne being a chocolate brown with locks, and Vina being much lighter in complexion with relaxed hair, you could've mistaken them for twins.  At first, Vina was checking her out from afar; trying to be inconspicuous, not making eye contact.  Mariah was surprised just on the strength of how strongly she resembled her sister.  She stole a few moments of freedom, and approached Vina as she was leaving the store.  Spying the fact that Vina's copy didn't look brand new, she questioned her as to where she got it, and her thoughts on the book, if she read it.  Vina had purchased a copy when the book was first released, and felt a range of different emotions while reading it; pride, anger, disappointment, and resentment.  When Mariah questioned her as to why she had felt such mixed emotions, Vina dropped a bomb on her...

Because you got to know him...while I didn't.  YOU got to grow up with my father...not ME.

Needless to say, Mariah didn't take kindly to her remark.  She initially thought Vina to be some sort of  lunatic or whack job, dismissing her claim.  She had stormed off, when Vina said something that made her pause...

Ask him about Millicent Parrish from Virginia!  He'll know her as "Milky".

Mariah didn't know what to say.  Richmond, Virginia was where she was originally born, where her parents met and married before moving away to Tacoma Park.  She knew that Kevin had had a life before meeting her, and her mother...but this?

Mariah just shakes her head, takes a deep breath, and exits her car.  She makes her way inside the house, heading for the kitchen.  As she enters inside, she sees her mother Ashley Denise cooking over the stove, and Kevin standing next to her, canoodling with each other.  She always loved seeing how they openly displayed their affection for each other, always showing how a loving couple should treat each other.  She lets out a half smile, always enjoying their public displays of affection for each other.  Kevin always set the standard for what Mariah looked for in a mate, seeing how preciously he always treated her mother.  Mariah pauses briefly, and then lets her presence be known with a slight cough.  Her parents look over her way, and smile.

"Hey, Mariah baby!"
"Hey princess", Kevin says, "How'd the book signing go?"
"It was good...well attended, good turnout", she replies, heading for the refrigerator, "Thanks for all your help in promoting it, dad."
"Of course!", he scoffs, "Anything for my princess!"

Mariah lets a smile slide, always grateful for her father's support.  She just didn't want to believe what Vina had told her.  It just couldn't be true!  Kevin is the most honest, most honorable man she knows.  He would never betray his family like that.  But...she had to know.

She pulls a drink out, and closes the fridge door.  She then briefly pauses...

"Say dad...?"
"What's up, kiddo?"
"Do you remember a woman named Millicent Parrish?  From back in Virginia...?"

She turns around and looks at the expression on his face, hoping that she would find nothing but a blank stare, a look of nonrecognition.  Mariah's heart begins to sink when she sees a probing look of familiarity.

"Millicent Parrish...Millicent Parrish.  Hmm...why does that name sound so familiar...?"
"You might know her better as 'Milky'...?"

Mariah's heart sinks even further as a reminiscent smile flashes across his face.  "Daaaammmn...", Kevin heartily replies, "You just took me waaaay back!"

"Who's that, baby?", her mother questions.
"My old downstairs neighbor, when I was living in Richmond.  It was before we met..."
"Oh, okay. We're you guys friends?"
"...Just neighborly.  Met her when I first moved to town from Newark."  Kevin briefly pauses, and then lets out a laugh.  "She was one crazy white girl..."

Mariah nearly jumps out of her skin, cringing.  She's WHITE?!?!?! 

"Okay Mr. angry activist...", Ashley Denise teases, "You be nice."
"I'm just saying...she was really cool, but she had a thing for dark meat."
"Oh", Ashley Denise laughs, "One of those.  I get your drift..."
"Yeah...she had it bad!  And it was always for those knuckleheaded types too...".

Mariah looks down, now feeling totally conflicted.  Her faith in her beloved father was beginning to shatter.  How could this have happened?!

"So, what brought up Milky...?"
"Huh...?", Mariah responds, coming to.
"What made you ask about Milky?  Did you meet her at your book signing?"
"Um, no...", Mariah replies, and then pauses, "I met her daughter."
"She has a daughter?!?!", Kevin replies, shocked, "Oh well...I guess I shouldn't be surprised..."
"Oh...?", Mariah asks, her eyebrow now raised, "And why is that?"
"Hey, even I had to admit...she was fine looking female.  Somebody was going to eventually get her to settle down..."

If only you knew, Mariah thinks to herself.  She takes a deep breath, and exhales. "She'll be in town for another week.  She says she'd like to meet you."

"Really...?", Kevin replies, smiling.
"Yeah.  Apparently, her mom told her a bit about you.  She'd like to meet the legend herself."
"Cool!  Set up the meet.  I'd love to meet Milky's daughter."
"Why don't you invite her over for dinner?", Ashley Denise asks.
"No...!", Mariah responds quickly.  Both of her parents look at her, somewhat stunned by her reaction.  Mariah quickly recovers, "It would be better at a neutral site, like...a cafe, or something..."
Okay princess", Kevin says, "If you think that's best.  Lets set it up."
"Okay", Mariah breathes, "I'll see when she's free, and let you know the day and time."
"Sounds like a plan!"

Mariah forces herself to smile at him.  She didn't know what to think, what to do.  She felt wrong to be setting her father up like that, but she needed answers.  She didn't get much from Vina in the first place, but now she wanted the whole complete story.  Both sides.  She was going to get the truth, even if it meant destroying her world. She needed to know for herself, was he a true father figure...or a fraud?

Women's Herstory Month: My High School Crush

Keeping with the theme of Women's History Month, I've decided to repost an entry I had originally posted as a Facebook Note.  It was part of a series of Notes that I had written called "Funny Stories" that I am currently compiling as a manuscripts project.  This particular entry tells of a girl that I had had a crush on all throughout my high school years, and the deep influence that she had on me as a person.  This was meant to be a bit of an insight into my personality, and to be quite amusing.  Please enjoy....

MY HIGH SCHOOL CRUSH

"Back in the days, when I was young, I'm not a kid anymore....
But some days, I sit and wish I was a kid again..."
– Amahd; “Back in the Day”

Thinking back in the days during my youth, pretty much I have fond memories. I always tell everybody that my childhood was great...it was my adolescents that sucked. It was a hard time for me to go through, and I wouldn't wish that experience on my worst enemy (actually, that's a bold face lie...I'm kinda evil like that). But...if I had one positive and blissful memory from my teenage years...it was that of my high school crush. Her impact on my life was quite strong and long lasting. Wanna hear about it? Like a here it, here it goes....

Since I'm too broke for a lawsuit, and I'm not trying to catch a hood beat down...lets' call her "KC".

I met KC during our freshman year in high school. We shared the same ninth period Sequential Math Class with Mr. Sparnroft. From the moment that I saw her walk into the classroom, I though that she was absolutely BEAUTIFUL! I couldn't stop staring at her. If memory serves me correctly, she had on a blue denim outfit, a yellow hoodie, white sneakers, and wore her hair pulled back in a pony tail. This golden goddess was THE most beautiful young woman that I had ever had the pleasure to meet. She was VERY attractive, intelligent, and had a lot of spunk to her. She was my kind of woman...

So...why not approach?

Simply put...I didn't have a chance.

It had nothing to do with her...it had to do with me. I HATED high school. Not to mention...my rep was in the toilet. That fact didn't help me out with the ladies AT ALL. I got labeled something that I wasn't, and I became a target for every ignorant, low life hood rat and hoochie mama in school...rotten ass, ghetto ass buncha mother f--....

I'm sorry....am I venting?ANYWAY.....
 
KC was beautiful. I watched her from afar, wishing to be with her more than anything. Despite my misery, she was the one good things that I looked forward to everyday in pris-....oops! I mean, in high school. Seeing KC in class made high school just that much more bearable. We never really hung out together, but we were very cordial to each other. That just made my feelings for her deepen even more.

I didn't see much of KC during our sophomore year. We didn't have any classes together that year, so I wasn't able to get close to her. It didn't matter, considering that my depression worsened, and my hatred for my high school deepened. My only saving grace was if I was lucky enough to see her in the halls on my way to class, or if she happened to skip into my lunch period. As much as I wanted to be with her, and desired her...I still felt unworthy of gaining her affections. These rotten hoodrats that I went to pris-...er, high school with made my life a living hell. My self confidence and esteem were shot all to hell...my rep was STILL in the toilet....I just couldn't win. Damn, I'm saying...can a n*gga just be?! Can you back up OFF a brotha?! What the f--.....

I'm sorry....I'm venting again....

Back to the story....

It wasn't until junior year that I had classes with KC again. I was really happy about that. She was growing into a beautiful woman now...becoming more sultry and sophisticated by the day. I continued to admire her from afar, but stepped up my game a little bit. Every chance I could get, I would shower her with compliments. I did my best to be a gentleman, and held open the door for her whenever I saw her coming up the stairs behind me, or I would let her exit first. I loved seeing that smile of hers everyday; those juicy lips, those captivating eyes...just experiencing her whole aura whenever she smiled. To be so close to her...yet for her to still be out of my reach. I could only shake my head, and wonder "what if....?"

Then a wonderful thing happened....

I got back my self esteem and self confidence! I grew a backbone! I gained back my self respect!
Well...I had to become an angry militant to do that....but you get my drift.

I became WHOLE again. I was truly myself for once. I was finally able to be ME!!!!! I was ready to take on the whole world...or at least everybody in my pris-...er, high school.

...Literally! Why do you think that I was always getting into a fight damn near every day? 

SENIOR YEAR!!!!!!!!!
 
The time had finally arrived! My sentence was almost over...I was about to be freed from that wretched institution. My reputation had improved, and my life at school became more bearable. But...with my newfound level of self confidence, I still had one nagging thought...

What if I could get with KC?

I couldn't leave without knowing. I didn't want to leave pris-...er, high school without ever knowing what might have been had I at least ATTEMPTED to express my affections for her. I got to see her everyday since we had a gym class together first thing in the morning. But still, I didn't want to leave pris-...er, high school with any regrets.

So what did I do?

I made up my mind. It's going to be my mission in life before I graduate. I am GOING to ask KC to be her boyfriend, or die trying!!!! ...Or, at least graduate with an answer.

I hatched a foolproof plan. I worked it ever so cleverly to perfection. I would nonchalantly inquire as to her relationship status at school. No boyfriend? GOOD! She's not dating any of the guys here at this rat hole. That means no competition...or an embarrassing beatdown in front of the whole school.

After inquiring about any potential boyfriends at our high school, I decided to write her the most WONDERFUL piece of poetry ever known to man. The master plan was this...there were at least three weeks of school left before winter break. I would send her a lovely piece of poetry each week, expressing my affections for her, gaining her heart and mind. Then...right before Christmas break...I would reveal myself to her...HOPEFULLY with her falling madly in love with me. What a wonderful Christmas present, right?

That was the plan....and if you know me....my plans NEVER go as planned.

I had written her the poem, and put it in a white envelope. I had a dear friend look out for me, and get the poem to her, since he had a late class with her. I gave him the note, and off the plan went. Here is what happened afterward (the next day)....

 FOURTH PERIOD...
I meet my man "Rod' in class (he's the friend that gave the poem to KC). I asked him what happened.
He got her the poem...
She LOVED IT! Was deeply flattered by it...
Asked Rod who had sent it to her.....
He protected me, saying that it was a secret admirer.....
....And I got dimed out by one of KC's friends!

You see...stupid me...if you're going to send someone any ANONYMOUS piece of writing....DON'T WRITE IT IN YOUR OWN HANDWRITING!!!!!!

My excuse? "But...but....I wrote it neatly so that she couldn't tell that it was me!!"

I was busted....my plan was ruined! It hadn't even been a week (hell, a DAY!!), and I had been figured out already...

 FIFTH PERIOD.....
I walked to my next class (which was right next door), and sat down, not in the best of moods. I saw my man "Ed" sitting across from me. He sees me....smiles, and says, "Go Kev!!!!"

You mean, you KNOW??!??!

"Uh, yeah...I was in the same class with KC."
 

GROOOOOOAAAANNNNN!!!!!

To make matters worse...that's when Ed dropped an even BIGGER bomb on me....
"Uh...you DO know that she has a boyfriend, right?"

WHAT?!?!?!?!?!

"Yeah...he just doesn't go to school here....."

GROOOOOOAAAAAAANNNNN!!!!!

My plans were all shot to hell. I had been discovered...and I didn't even THINK to consider that maybe...JUUUUUST maybe....she might have been dating someone OUTSIDE of our pris-..er, high school!!!!
Ain't this some shit?!
The WHOLE damn school probably knows my business by now...or at least the entire senior class.

 SIXTH PERIOD.....
That's right... the story doesn't end there...

The bell rang, and I left for my next class. I was feeling pretty low about how everything turned out. My next class was down the hall from where my last class was, and I started heading towards there, head down and spirits low. I look up...and GUESS WHO I see standing in front of my sixth period class talking to one of her friends?

KC

She was beautiful. I was scared shitless. I stopped walking.

What am I gonna do? Well, I COULD just cut my class.....
Oh wait...my teacher saw me earlier that day! SHIT...I can't do that!
Oh well....time to face the music.

I took a deep breath...sucked it up, and continued to walk to my class.

KC finally saw me approaching. She smiled the prettiest smile I'd ever seen her wear. I was deeply in love, and totally embarrassed at the same time. I tried my best to muster up a smile, said hello...and slinked into my classroom full of shame and embarrassment. KC's friend look at me as if I was a weirdo (a look that I got A LOT in high school), looked at her and asked, " What was THAT all about?!"

"Oh, you don't know? let me tell you..."

So KC told her, and her friend turned to me all wide-eyed. I couldn't handle it anymore, so I got up, and walked to the back of my classroom, my embarrassment in overdrive.

If you couldn't tell...KC LOVED the poem! Unfortunately, she was already spoken for. She was very impressed. Of course, I could never shake off the embarrassment that I felt. I remember giving her a Christmas card that year. I remember writing, "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year...and let's just forget that stupid note that I wrote you".

Never underestimate the power of the written word. She liked what I wrote her. KC told me so when she signed my senior yearbook. I really appreciated that. I also treasure it more than anything.

SO.....

Time went on. We finished out the year, and graduated. We ended up going our separate ways, never to hear from each other again for a number of years. I had gone to college out of state, only to return 2 years later. By that time, she had left the state.

She had a very strong affect on me. I've named a few characters after her in a few of my screenplays. When I thought that I was an emcee, I wrote a rhyme about her. Hell, I still have the original lyrics to this day. Hell, I can STILL remember the first four lines of the poem that I wrote her! She definitely got me to step up my game, as far as waxing poetic was concerned.

Of all the memories and moments of my adolescents...this is the most cherished. I hope that you enjoyed this.

This message was brought to you by the letter K..
The numbers 88 and 92...
...and by Facebook

Fresh, for 2009.....you SUCKAAAAAAAAS!!!!!!

Black History Month: The Diaspora Edition (the return)

Doing my part to celebrate Black History Month.  Here is an excerpt from Raise Your Brown Black Fist 2 from the essay/article of the same title.

"We are taught so little about our own history; not only is it never expressed within the greater society that we live in, but it is also not taught internally from within the Black community.  What little of it that is actually taught is never portrayed accurately, and is usually some watered down, stripped down version made to make our oppression seem not so bad.  Our people have been able to overcome great obstacles, no matter where we were taken, and our achievements need to be highlighted.  The UNIA had their Liberty schools, the BPP-SD had their Freedom schools; we need to be able to take it to the next level in order for this current generation to learn about their history, and know about their heroes and sheroes.  Our people (and our children specifically) need to know about leaders such as Kwame Nkrumah, Steven Biko, Maurice Bishop, Marcus Mosiah Garvey, CLR James, Amilcar Cabral, Yaa Asantewaa, Queen nzingha, Patrice Lumumba, Julius Nyerere, and James Thuku.  They need to know about our people who resisted their enslavement, and were able to run to freedom, and form their own independent societies.  We need to learn more about our ancestors who formed the free Maroon societies, the Quilombos, and the Palenques throughout the Diaspora.

More needs to be known about our ancestry elsewhere.  We should learn more about Yanga and Esteban Montejo from Mexico, and how they were able to rise above their enslavement.  We should teach our children about Zumbi from Brazil, a renowned Maroon leader who formed one of the first Quilombos out there.Also from Brazil, we should make ourselves familiar with the works of such writers as Abdias do Nascimento and Leila Gonzales.  Knowing about our history and our great writers and thinkers is essential to our progress.  It is not only important to about where we came from, but also about what we were able to achieve pre-enslavement/colonization, and what we were able to accomplish during those oppressive times.  We need to be knowledgeable of those brothers and sisters who took the mantles of leadership, and lead us throughout our greatest achievements, and our darkest hours."

The following excerpt is from my second book "Raise Your Brown Black Fist 2: MORE Political Shouts of an Angry Afro Latino".  To read the complete article/essay, purchase a copy of my book from your local bookstore, or via online through my publisher Outskirts Press, Amazon.com, Books-A-Million.com, or Barnes & Nobles' website.

Spanish People In Control--The Remix

The following is an excerpt from my article/essay entitled "Hip Hopistas: Requiem for a Second Verse", from Raise Your Brown Black Fist 2.  The excerpt will be followed by the song lyrics for the remix version of the song "S.P.I.C. (Spanish People In Control)".

"In the late 90s (around 1998 or so), there was an underground movement of (conscious) emcees rising up throughout Latin America, specifically among Afro Latinos.  They weren't focused on the materialism or misogyny of their American-born counterparts; they spoke about issues affecting them in their country(ies) of origin.  They spoke to issues of racism that they faced in their home country, the dire poverty that affects their communities, and of oppression that they faced from their respective governments.  There were several articles written about this movement in such periodicals as Stress Magazine, and Urban Latino Magazine.  Apparently, this was also happening around the time of the so-called 'Latin Explosion' here in the United States.  As I had stated in the article subtitled "Reflections of Me":

"....Afro Latinos were relegated to the status of persona non grata.  You never saw us during the whole explosion, not unless you dug around really deep in the underground circles..." 

Our voices went unheard, and our opinions were left unexpressed.   So in that sense, we had to create our own voices, and find alternative ways for us to be heard.  Inspired by the conscious artists here in the States, our brethren throughout Latin America decided to lift their voices, and put their thoughts to wax (or tape, or CDs, or any other means that were available to them).

...Hip Hop can be used as a tool to help instill social change in our communities.  It can be a tool; not be considered an end all and be all.  It can be used as a way to help politicized the youth of our communities, but cannot be seen as the only answer or ultimate solution."

Spanish People In Control  (Remix)

[emcee collaboration]

Verse (Knowledge As Supreme)

Well, it don't matter...Boricua, Chicano, or whatever...

We just gotta cease the warring, and we gotta stick together...

Watch our backs, we gotta watch out for the racists,

Cause you know they're all around us wearing too many faces,

They hate this...

They see us all around, and get scared,

And they're always talking shit when their dirty laundry get aired,

They say we're all the same, and they say that it's legit,

But then they show their real faces, and try to feed us some bullshit...

Won't take this no more, you wanna act muy malo?

So come get in my face, I'll kick your ass with my zapatos...

 S-P-I-C is Spanish People In Control...my main goal,

This ain't just how I'm livin', this how my squad rolls...

Raiding our countries, lootin' the land just like a felon,

But when I speak my own language, you wanna do Prop 187?

Listen here...that disrespectful bullshit ain't how we go,

And lettin' some punk ass honkey diss my people on the radio?

That showed no respect for any person that had died,

And then I would be wrong to beat the shit out your hide...

The time for tongues is reminiscent and dismissin',

So it's time to give punks like Howard Stern and ass wuppin' (Selena!)

The Aboriginals have suffered massive genocide,

And now we suffer tales of our lives that are falsified...

Unbelieveable myths of our nature are nationwide,

And some are proving it true by being out there on the homicide...

You have some out that fall to mis-education,

and commit assassinations just to gain a reputation...

You see the picture is much broader than the brush,

And yes, you do have some ills, but commit to judgements that rush...

I'm kickin' knowledge just so all you will know,

That this how we roll, with Spanish People In Control

The following excerpt can be found in Raise Your Brown Black Fist 2: MORE Political Shouts of an Angry Afro Latino.  For copies of the book, please contact your local bookstore to order copies, or order it online through Amazon.com, Barnes & Nobles, or my publisher Outskirts Press website.     

S.P.I.C. (Spanish People In Control)--The Concept

The following is an excerpt from the essay/article titled "Word Power" of the Black Thoughts series.  The excerpt is followed by the song lyrics written in conjunction with the concept of the acronym.  The article/essay "Word Power" is included in both books.  The song lyrics are specifically listed in Book 2: MORE Political Shouts of an Angry Afro Latino.


"People understand very little the power of words...

I remember one incident in my youth, during my late teens/early twenties, when I was hanging out with some friends of mine (at the time) from high school, in which I was supposed to be forming a musical group with (they were the singers of the group, and I was to be the emcee).  We were having a conversation one time about group matters when one of my friends/groupmates replied in a jovial fashion, "I'm a Spic, and proud of it."  His response caused me to raise a surprised eyebrow at him, considering that I was the angry militant of the group.  In  response, he dared me to ask him why he would refer to himself in such a manner.  After a few seconds of contemplation, I bit.

"Okay...why are you proud to be a Spic?"

"...Because we're Spanish People In Control!  Get it?"

I have to admit that at the time I laughed at the response, thinking that it was on the clever side; taking a word of negative connotation, and turning it into a positive.  As the emcee of the group (and secondary song writer),  I had actually penned a few songs (two actually; the original song with rhyme verse, and rap remix) in response to this witty acronym, turning it into our political statement.  Since I was the radical of the group, I had always tried to express my political beliefs through my art, using it as a tool to 'edu-tain' the masses.  It's been many moons since I even thought about picking up the mic; it just wasn't in me to be an emcee.  It's been even longer since I had a falling out with my ex-groupmates/former friends to do the music thing, and revolutionize the music industry and the masses.  But...that particular memory has always stuck with me."

S.P.I.C. (Spanish People In Control)

Chorus:

S-P-I-C...Spanish People In Control

S-P-I-C...Spanish People In Control

S-P-I-C...Spanish People In Control

S-P-I-C...Spanish People In Control

Verse 1: (Knowledge As Supreme)

Well, it's the K-A-S' rise, and I'm coming as no surprise,

And as I'm kickin' my flava, it's my theory you must surmise...

Teachin' you all with my political flow,

S-P-I-C, Spanish People In Control...

On the culture tip, give me respect for the props I'm earnin',

(Why...?) Cause I'm the Phunkee Honduran...

I'm a darker skinned brother, with the mad Latin flava,

Representin' my peoples, and kickin' issues that can save ya...

Born wit a street heart, down to be book smart,

Hope to be a leader that you read in your history csparts...

Learn from my knowledge, all the sermons that you hear me speak,

Speakin' and preachin', reachin' and teachin' truths you know you can't defeat...

We gotta hype ourselves, fuck these political groupies,

Cause they're always dissin' us, even in these wack ass movies...

We get played by Caucasians, we get portrayed like we're heathens,

We're always getting disrespected, no one's there when we need them...

We get blamed for the welfare, get blamed for the drug flow,

They disrespect our language and our culture as a whole...

We ain't all dealers, and ain't all alcoholics,

Don't try to label me, so son, back up off it...

You lied to us in school and tried to program our minds,

But then when you want somethin', you start to act kind...?

(Fuck it!) Latter for y'all, cause I'm livin' Latincentric,

Don't try to keep me down, don't think you can suppress it...

Word to my Phunkness, to the next flow,

S-P-I-C...Spanish People In Control!

Chorus: 2X

Verse 2: [verse omitted]

Chorus: 2X

Verse 3: (Knowledge As Supreme)

Talkin', movin', flowin', showin' this packed jam,

The speakin' and preachin' mental emcee is who I am...

P-H-U-N-K-Double E,

And at the end put 'Honduran' and you know that's me...

I dress in baggies, and I talk wit the street slang,

You know I'm straight up street, but not down wit the gang thing...

Mental correctness, selfless, testless, I'm also restless,

Not some fake-ass fool thinkin' I'm the bestest...

Stick wit my peeps cause there is no petty jealousy,

Fake being friends, and then you wanna challenge me...?

I don't think so, look for help from your savior,

Cause when you challenge K-A-S, that shit ends in failure...

I know where I'm from, so I'm gonna stay true,

Representin' my peoples, I gotta do what I must do...

S-P-I-C ain't a song, it's a given,

It's a way to represent, it's the way that we livin'...

They try to keepyou down, leave you all by you lone,

But if we stay correct, we can bring up our own...

Combine the strengths of the entire Latin nation,

We can work for our own, handle any situation...

Word to god, heed my word, hear what I'm sayin',

We gotta go for ours, you know I ain't playin'...

Not by buck wildin', bullets flyin', people dyin',

Ya gotta use ya brain when ya fightin'...

They play these fucked up games all the time with us,

Just take up a position, and get ready to bust...

We gotta watch our own, cause nobody else will,

We gotta do what we must, even have to get ill...

Me and my peoples, we all live like this,

And soon we gonna arise, and it's something you won't miss...

That's how we livin', here just to let you know,

S-P-I-C...Spanish People In Control!

Chorus: 3X

The remix to Spanish People In Control will be posted soon as a follow-up to this post.  For those interested in reading more of the article/essay "Word Power", or sampling other songs and poetry that I have written, please purchase a copy of Raise Your Brown Black Fist: The Political Shouts of an Angry Afro Latino, book one and two, at your local bookstore.

Back in Da Dayz (Reminiscin' From Way Back)

Felt like waxing poetic today.  Hope that you enjoy......


Back in da dayz...when early Hip Hop culture was a reality,
Instead of this corporately controlled commercialized fallacy...
Back when you were respected because of your verbal, artistic, and dancing skills,
And selling lots of records, or commercial acceptance from the mainstream didn't mean that you were ill...
The culture was in your heart, you felt it and you dealt it,
Now, you just wanna be ignorant and act hardheaded like a helmet...
FUCK rockin' Prada, Gucci, Hilfiger, and DKNY,
Stick to rockin' Mecca, FUBU, PNB, and Karl Kani...
Street dreams used to be made of these,
But now we suffer from a commercially controlled, corporate disease...
People like MTV and VH1 telling stories of our culture that are ALL wrong,
Profiting off of our genius and creativity; historically, always the same old song...
Our culture regionally represented, giving rise to the masses a voice,
Now being able to tell of OUR stories, now having an alternative choice...
No longer about Civil Rights, it's now about Power to OUR people,
Historically, always were we separate...and we DAMN SURE weren't equal...
The telling of our stories, the way things were in our hoods,
A new form of Black media or Black Press; telling it in a way that only the griots could...
Verbally, visually...displayed in some new dance form,
Even musically through DJs; these true hip hop elemental forms...
Back in da dayz...with graf artists, and breakerdancers that popped and locked,
Back in da dayz...when the only true hip hop beats were the DJ's scratch, and the Human beat box...
Bck in da dayz...when B-boys and B-girls could dress alike,
It wasn't about thug cats and hoochie mommas always lookin' for a fight...
Flattops, Fades, Gumbies, bald heads, and braids,
Hightops, waves, cornrows, Gheri curls; hairstyles that were all the rage....
Sweatsuits, hats, sunglasses, and then the baggy style,
Cross Colours, 8-Ball, Lees....yeah, names that you haven't heard in a while....
'86-'93 was the Golden Hip Hop era,
The music, the messages; that's when it was for real y'all!!
Cable television never had hip hop music videos on lock,
Religiously watching New York's #1 music video show, Video Music Box...
Back in the dayz, when WBLS and KISS-FM musically kept it real,
With DJs like Red Alert, Mr. Magic, and Kid Capri....yeah, y'all know the deal...!
Also DJ Chuck chillout, and local mixtape DJs that you know,
Always there to set the mood, helping to get the clubs and house parties ready to go...
Back in da dayz, during the times of my youth,
Back in da dayz, when the culture was foolproof...
Back in da dayz, when the culture was pure,
Back in da dayz, when the love for the culture was honest and sure...
Back in da dayz, in my youth looking back,
Back in da dayz....reminiscing from way back.


Kevin Sabio
a/k/a "Knowledge As Supreme"
(C) 2002

Black History Month: the Diaspora Edition

The following is an excerpt of one of the essays included in my second book.  Since this is Black History Month, I thought that it would be appropriate to put here.  Please enjoy.....

Black History Month: The Diaspora Edition

"I'm still learning that the pen's mightier than the sword,
But we still need the help of Brown Berets and Young Lords...
My artifacts cannont be beaten by false attacks,
But step to me...I'll go down fighting just like the Caribs and the Arawaks."
-  Knowledge As Supreme; "Phunkee Honduran's Flow"
(c) 1995


BALTIMORE, MD-I remember a number of years ago (around 1999, or 2000) reading an article that was posted on the website called "The Black World Today" (www.tbwt.org). In the article, the author discussed how Black History Month should be expanded (content-wise) to include our heroes that are from the Caribbean, considering the growing number of people immigrating to the United States from the islands, and how their children (and others, for that matter)are taught very little about our heroes & sheroes that have done great achievements throughout history that are from the islands.  I would like to piggyback on that notion, and feel that we should include all of our heroes and sheroes throughout the Diaspora, Afro Latinos included.

You have some brothers and sisters who can tell you about our American heroes and icons; Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, JR., Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass, and Sojourner Truth are usually the most well known names that people mention during Black History Month.  People might also invoke the names of certain contemporary celebrity personalities to be included in Black History Month celebrations.  At the same time, how many people are aware of such brothers and sisters like Walter Rodney, Frantz Fanon, Dr. Eric Williams, or Shirley Chisholm?  How often do you hear people invoking the names of ancestral greats and freedom fighters such as Antonio Maceo, Jose Marti, and Maroon leader Carlota of Cuba, Sebastian Lemba  of the Dominican Republic, Rafael Cordero and Manzano from Puerto Rico?  Are there many people that are familiar with Touissant L'Oveture and Jean-Jacques Dessalines from Haiti?  What about Nanny and Cudjoe from Jamaica?   You also have Juan Gualberto Gomez from Cuba, a hero from her War of Independence from Spain.  Jose Celso Barbosa had also fought for independence from the colonial grips of Spain, specifically for Puerto Rico.  None of us took our subjugation lying down.  We've all fought against slavery, and we continue to fight against colonialism.


To read more, feel free to purchase a copy of  my book "Raise Your Brown Black Fist 2: MORE Political Shouts of an Angry Afro Latino" to read the rest of the article.