[Frank]

He shouted…


“I ain’t no sucka!”


as he strolled the pavement.
At the age of eight, he knew fate wouldn’t show to save him..
His uncle had been raped and his bro was wasted
His mother was great… but she only came in
The picture when the “Nigger” wasn’t home to say shit;
Home to - “Hoe, dough’s low, throw a loan for Jason!”
Maybe this caused the chrome to reload,
Pool of blood, clear enough for him to comb his waves in.



Uncle PJ seemed gay; feminine clothed
Waving his hands when he talked behind a delicate tone
He was a skeleton of elements; benevolent, bold
Affectionate, shine your shoes fore' he step on your toes…
But children these days always have something to prove.
“Jay - your uncles a faggot, he was hugging a dude!”
But Jay loved uncle P too much to wonder the truth;
Till the day this guy and his uncle were too comfortable
Cuddling on the comforter; rubbing knees, cheeks, blushing, amused,
Once in the room, PJ turned mellow and switched,
His attention to his nephew with a “Hello" and “Sit”
PJ smiled nervously as Jay’s eyes settled on his hip -
His hands in another mans; as he let go of the grip…
-
When Jay was bullied - his bro Steve was absent & such,
In the back of the cut, dumping guts, passing a Dutch
After a lunch, he’d fuck a slut, brag and then strut;
BUT when it came to kids beefing’ with Jay,
He’d just reach for his blade and say “Grab It, You Punk!”
Hansom & tough, weak in the brain -
A G to the game -
A Natural thug
Rather ask for some bud, a sneaker or chain
Then read from a page, or grab him a glove -
Jay’s sinkerball continued to split & dive –
Over time their relationship became that same pitch in disguise.
-
Mom was green in the eyes, lean in the thighs
Far from as black as Jason…
If you thought she was acting racist,
Know that the demeanor of the guy, who put a seed up in her - died
As soon as Steven had arrived, JUST LIKE THAT it was back to “hey bitch”
See Stacey was just a baby - 16 with his older brother -
Big dreams put on a quick lean till the boulders shuffled
Owning nothing, son in hand; book to her chest;
Couldn’t tell which was darker, her son, or the looks she would get...
She’d cook the best she could when the ingredients lacked
Saved tips; bought him Adidas with these jeans from the gap.
Elementary? Let me see - she dreamed it exact -
“Welcome Jason, tell your foster mother to take a seat in the back...”
From kindergarten to sixth, he had his mama to listen -
Except for days he displayed traits of his papa in him.

Poppa Chris, alcoholic – though they forced him to quit;
He’d just mumble & wave the cane that supported his limp
If I had a quarter for every unfortunate loss he would get
I could call the border of Georgia without it costing collect
It happened so often he wouldn’t cry, he just nod his head
“Lord why?” turned into a sigh & a ‘’not again’’
And when Jay was born; it didn’t help proceedings,
God knows they were barely doing well with Steven.
But a couple shots of the jack made there problems relax...
All of a sudden it’s “who needs a condom?!” At the drop of a hat…
Wake up hungover- fuck Folgers, no flirting or jokes,
Just a “Woman, get my slippers, why you burning my toast?!”
And this is just the talk at the start... cause once the brawling is sparked...
The words threw the air seem like a walk in the park.



“Jay, your uncles getting’ it, I’m hurting that clown, kid!”
As the laughter commenced;“OoOO’s” circled around him.
Tell his brother' “Yo son, this week I bat clean up!”
After the game it’s like “OoOoO – forgot bro - my bad, you see, we was…”
Brought his report card to mom and he'd be packed with joy -
That’s when the ‘’OooOo!’’ came before “That’s my boy!”
Pops used the word... it was thrown when the drama came…
“Stacey, you crazy?! – OoOoOo I hate your mama, Jay!”
The constant blame made a monster stage -
Himself in front of an audience as his conscience played -
The scene… over & over – his parents too broke to be glad, his
Brother, waking & baking,
His uncle too close on the mattress
It was past six, early morning; mom was knitting a shirt...
Steve, lighting a clip, his pops, riffing’ at work…
This was the system he learned, procedure he knew -
The morning disorder turned war zone as the evening grew;
He was cleaning his shoes, ready to bounce this joke -
Said “Peace” to Steve in his cloud of smoke
Bumped into pops who asked, ‘’gotta a few bucks, J?”
Grabbed his keys, leaving to a kiss from a bruised up face…
This was the last school he'd grace, the last flights he'd glide, son
The last “You’re killing my high” - last fight he'd hide from…
It just hit nine & his book bag was loaded with junk
Swaying his frail body side to side, as he strolled to the bus,
But sutin’ told him to cross the street, he rolled with his gut,
When barely off of the pavement, shoulders was bumped -
“Homie, you drunk?!”
Spoke sharply from the genes of his pops
When the kid flashed the steel, he turned into his uncle p on the spot
“Sorry man, I should’ve saw you move from
the gutter..”
If only he'd been.. calm...,cool like his brother…
That’s when the juice of his mother became clear, as the cars
Passed him & the onlookers, not a fear in his heart…
I guess the stress on his mind caused the punch to his peer.
The shots fired and "OoOoO!" to rest with him as it buzzed in his ear.
Bullets spelling disaster, Just another kid in a casket, with his family gathered..

and heres where I'm suppose to say




"And they lived happily ever after."

.
The End