Baltimore City Homes

Guess where I’m from…

Cold like Goldie pimps and police… I morn over the men and women I grew up with… Even the paroles, please give me time to breathe, while I bleed… Out… On the street… Blood thickness glazed over where the children play over… It… Kick starts into Pre-kindergarten… In the picture was a deadly grim scene behind me… Like the president behind the podium… Corruption… Trying to get by under poverty so I… Robbed, stolen and sold like how the country was formed… What was mine today… Only time and God can say when it’s my time… So, while I live on… In this snow storm of fire… Im design for hellish climate… My life means nothing yet… I will surely stand up for progress… Nothing provided… Prisoners with in a project lab rat shit… Are in the city making noise like a helicopter crash, clash of insanity from my past… Creeping up on my future fuck it…. Lets go out and play in bullet rain… Aim, pull it, aim… Is the forecast for today… Showers propel back until a quiet silence… Till someone falls, no spring ups… Summer into winters dinner has none….

A King Beyond The Streets

A long winter wool coat draped down to the flo. Tommy broom sticks concealed within ready to blow. You have made a noise loud enough to make the whole city know. Never step in the way of him in black coat.


Staring at what you left under the rug. Fast cars like stage coaches. Chased while galloping through the hood. A man with absolutely nothing to lose and no cards to fold. Behind the steering wheel of a pitch fork. All bathed in dripping gold.

This is the only man who can turn a bad Avenue or Blvd block into a quiet safe zone. Without swinging nickel plated frustrated enders of life’s splinters. That needs taking out as quick as word of mouth.

Moving around like drug currency from the south to the north. To the north to the south. The bait car moving up from the south to the north and back to the south for more. The man was made of pure organization and trained thought by core.

He is the only man left in the city with pure heart and never bending a knee to any.

He is a hybrid of anarchy with in hybernation that can wake when tried of patience.

He is just a man…

A human…

Embracing The Footsteps Of A Royal Bloodline

Hood royalty…

I had to find my feet. Match up with defeat as a youngster. Fight after fight after fight. I was a small child. Losing every fight horribly. No matter how scared, beaten and brused I got right back up and moved on. Later on in life I would find out that I was litterally the golden child of a royal hood family. Everybody knew my family but me.

A strong respect was formed some years ago by my family in the city and prison systems. Earned by paying dues from actions of pure strength, inteligence and power. When I grew to my teenage years I could see the staring of people in the block and Damn near every where I went. I could even here some of there words. I ain’t going to lie. I felt like a young Hollywood star.

Every older person knew me before I even knew myself and what I was capable of. When I had advanced to my late teenage years to my early twenties. Most of my royal family were incarcerated, on the run from authorities, strung out on dope or just plain old vision out of sight. I got older and realized that I wasn’t young no more. I’ve gotten way bigger and way more aggressive and thorough never losing fights anymore. Truthfully no loses taken. No matter what weapons or weak strategies that were used by my foes.

I ran with… Stood up to the worst of the worst till everyone respected my very presents. I felt like the Prince of my kingdom. It was then when I found out who I really was. A warrior!

A true warrior with the bloodline of famous men. Real stand up brick wall sculptures of hood royalty. There statues still remain till this day. No one in the city could ever surpass them no matter how much work they put in…..

The Bad Old Days

Been giving out free caskets since I could remember.

Ive been cornered by the government and came out swinging.

Life wasn’t like a box of chocolates so you can save that fairytale shit.

I watched fiends in the hallways light up the bottom of spoons.

Water on the stove boiling pots dropping ones and twos.

Teenage killers with automatic pistols laying you in the ground just for your shoes.

If you were light than your pockets got ripped off with claws sharper than my dress code.

If you were weak then you would fail your class for life sleeping.

If you were strong then you got welcomed with open scars.

No food and no lights on at home.

Breaking and entering…

Home invasions…

I guess you done got sick of starving.

Getting older taking over drug infested corners for power and order.

No more boiling hot dogs until they split.

No more can goods or food stamps yet our occupations ain’t legit.

Ma ma don’t cry…

Tears get wiped from her face and eyes.

No one ever wanted to take that test.

I’ve been giving out free caskets until there weren’t any left.

Better re-up……,



.45 caliber

Under cover plain cloths police were on their way to a apartment to serve a warrent for his arrest.

The officers weren’t wearing their police chain link badges outside their shirts as required by their superiors. They didn’t even look like cops.

They drove up to the apartments and hopped out there un-marked vans and cars in loads try to wash their so called dirty laundry.

On the other hand… The supposed suspect herd noises outside so he got up and peaked out of the blinds on the window and he saw a bunch of men with guns.

He tured from the window blinds and said to his lady friend who’s apartment belonged to her “who is all of these motha fuckaz out side?”

The plain clothes officers that were dress like stereotypical thugs with backwards hats and baggy jeans.

Ya…. Not much fashion sense but in there defense it was the year 2000 and this was common.


The plain clothes officers advanced to the apartments door where the suspected target was.

Two minutes later gun fire erupted like a volcanos in Chile. The supposed suspect didn’t know if the men running up to the apartments door where trying to kill or rob or worst to him and his lady friend.

They didn’t at all look like cops! The officers then started exchanging gun fire with the supposed suspect like misinformation.

Bullets ripping back and forth putting holes through the air smacking the glass windows and the walls and doors of this apartment.


Did these officers even think?!

There could had been children or animals in this women’s apartment.

But I really don’t think they even cared since they started shooting first. The supposed suspect had his two .45caliber autos squeezing there triggers rapidly like they were his first love.

Two officer were servearly injured. The supposed suspect put his guns down and surrenderd then the officer ran in the apartment and yelled at the lady and the supposed suspect to get on the grown and hand cuffed them both.

The officer then stood over the suspect and shot him 12 times while he lies on the ground in cuffs screaming helplessly.

The suspect was denied medical treatment till hours later….

Then they took him to central booking for processing.

Now! Did I mention that he didn’t know these were officers.

Oh ya! That’s right! There is no self defense law for black people. Your ass is going straight to jail no matter what the situation is.

I ask….

What would you have done in this situation?

How would you have handled it?

Men dressed like goons running up to your house with no badge shown. With regular cars pulling up to your where abouts. Not announcing they’re officers.

How would the situation gone with you?

I’m From L.N.G. Part 2

Baltimore City is running out of yellow police tape and chalk making grow men run jumping gates.


If you do…. that’s your ass in a sandwich bag. Toes neatly tagged up by white cold rose men.


True blue and red, blue and red riding through the hood up beside you. Hungry and blood Thirsty nomes with helpers surrounding you. Taking whatever is reliable. Please… They don’t ask for license and registration. Never run off because they don’t do no chasing.


Explaining the other side of what you never see on t.v. Is hard for America to understand. A nine year old boy broke into a house. Stole a gun… Shooting every thing up. The poison they’re feeding yall. They’re feeding us…


Anybody on the street asks you a question or has a Hoody on over their heads. Don’t say anything back if they speak. This is my only warning. Mind your own… Keep on going!


Wet razor blades with crack  cocaine  residues. Chopping away at the eight ball on the glass table. All around…. Gunz are loaded. No Jehovah’s witnesses ever knock on these doors at ten in the morning or closest of closest kin will be morning.


Give me some air! All in a plastic bucket. So I can divide it amongst my brothers in company…

Only me…

Only us…



This ain’t no spelling bee… Spelling my name out of your mouth won’t get you close to me. My history’s consistency started with small timing off of the Avenue.

A collage of car after car started to make me sea sick. Up on Blvd is where the broads never turned off tricks. Prices were negotiated from leaning on the cars window seal then she would hop in.

Quick trips to the liquor store hoping that they don’t close the door.



Now me and the guys got to pile up in the van on to the other side where the late bar would be still standing. Fast forward to a deadly shotting in front of the late liquor bars doors shutting the bar down for good.

There were more and more and more shoot outs later. Left 75% of my good nature gone up in the gun smoke of my patience. Sometimes I even ended up a hospital patient.

The girls around my way stay in drama. Plotting and scheming on the next man with big dollars. Can’t tell them nothing to save them. They just get angry, causing a scene saying things like “Don’t try to control me”!

Later on seeing her day after day getting lighter and dry coughing more. Now a fighter of H.I.V…. You know…. that house in Virginia. Just to fuck man after man because he has more bandz.

I just could never understand…

If the kids starved. They robbed and stole. As the gotten older they were stronger and boulder. Now all of them on the run from the F.B.I….

You shoot me I shoot you back! The whole neighborhood owned fire for their hands. You could never tell them that black on black crime is foolishness. They ain’t going to sit to death. They ain’t going to die no matter who it is!

Retaliation done took the lives of most groups this year. More R.I.P. tattoo’s this year.


The Unsuccessful Ending Of What Wasn’t Written (100th

It was a hot summer day. I was sitting out front on the stoop of a vacant apartment on North and Mc Choullah when a masked gentleman approach me quickly coming out from around the corner.

I was cool… He pulled his heater out and it was already summer. In my mind I was thinking if it’s my time then it’s my time. The tall gentleman hesitated to pull the trigger. Well at first…

I told the gentleman that was holding the pistol by the corner of my right eye calmly to pull the fucking trigger. He was shaking and hesitated some more then I shouted out. Shoot me! What the fuck are you waiting for dummy!

He was surprised… I could tell by his movements and his pupils when I turned towards him. Looking him in the eyes that were glassy and red through his ninja type mask that you can by from any corner store in the city.

He look like he was high and needed some visine and a cheeseburger or some shit. Anyway! The guy with the gun to my head was rather in shock or he was a trigger virgin. Either way I kept my cool.

He was shaking hard to the point I could hear the guns inner parts raddling. Tink tink tink… Hahahaha… The guy was frozen and didn’t say a word. He then closed his eyes for a second. Opened his eyes back up cocking his steal.

When he cock the rusty gun back I could hear exactly what happen from my own personal experiences. The gun jammed by two bullets going in the chamber of his cheap America made appliance. His gun was done unless he had a butter knife or something and sometime on his hands.

The gentleman was standing there feet to the right of me trying to fix his gun by simultaneously cocking the gun. Oh my god this dummy is trying to fix his gun in broad daylight in the middle of a already shitty execution attempt. I kind of felt bad for this kid.

True story! I couldn’t hold it and laught at him with a group of light chuckles spilling from myself. Oh this guy was panicking…. He then yelled out loud… Fuckk! He could finish what he started or fix the problem he had. Then he turned around and run across the street through the cut to the alleyway. I said to myself…. What the fuck…. Did anybody see this hilarious show.

I continued to open my bad of corn chips and chomp away…

The moral of this is… If it was meant to be that my brains would have been on the vaccents brick wall. There is no way you can change what is written for you….

Dandelions And Body Bags

I feel so warm and tingly.

My every breath is in slow motion.

My voice raspy chain smoking.

While the summer breeze played the saxophone.

Like that old jazz man.

You know!

My younger days.

Dice games going on in the ally Way’s.

So you know I’m side betting.

Keeping my third eye open for guys gun toting.

Trying to rob us was suicide!

The whole north west side knew it.

My knuckles bruised!t

Cut up from last nights predicted fight.

Guess who won?

The ladies of the night.

Standing on the boulevard.

Hopping in and out of cars.

like they were jumping rope.

She asked me did I have another cigarette.

I replied..,

“I don’t smoke.”

If I could do a documentary on her life.

It would be like bringing a knife to a gun fight.

Only for the knife to win.

This was also the night that I made death run.

This was the night that change my life forever.