12th Slave

 

 

The Basketball Plantation
The Ecclesiastes of Greenville lost soul #12 Sinners, alpha, Omega, Crucifixion, & the Kingdom of Christ

 

Game 2
Eastside Long Beach
I had spent the weekend at my sister Linda’s house and on the way home Linda said, “Mama has a surprise for you.”  Then we turn left, then right, and stop in front of a brand new house.  We have moved from Compton to Long Beach.  I say, “Wow, Mom!  You’re too much!”  Then I immediately asked, “Where are the basketball courts?”

The Long Beach California Recreation Center a.k.a The Cal Rec was two blocks away.  I grabbed my ball and mobbed to the recreation center to wage war.  To let every kid in the hood know there was a new king of the court, and he’s bringing lots of goodies and tricks in his bag, all based on and built from a solid foundation of fundamentals.

As I shot on the outside courts, I hear a voice.  “Hey Nigga, you playing or are you practicing?”  It’s all the same to me.  My face is new, so everybody wants to see if I’m friend, or foe, on the court.  I serve notice, “If we are not on the same team, working toward the same goal, then you are foe until we walk outside of the sacred lines.”
As we ran up and down the court, I study the battlefield.  After several trips up and down the war zone, I zero in on him.  There he is, Demond Cooper, a.k.a. Country Boy.  After my two-minute study and a one-minute pop quiz, it’s time for my test.  I say, with fire in my voice, “Hey Nigga,” to the same Nigga that asked me if I was playing or practicing.  “You need to put some heat on country boy.  He’s killing you.  Let’s switch shot!”

 I rebound and he meets me at half court.  As he talks big shit to his friends on the sideline, they laugh and crack jokes about me, and I said to him, “You and your friends better find somebody on the east side that can check me.”

 As I danced at half court, looking him in the eyes, I laughed.  Old school; new school included, watch my next move.  I dribble left, reverse around my back to my right, crossover left, right, left, and rain a jumper from 30 feet.

Swoosh! Nothing but chains! Cash! Dollar bills…and the name is Money Green, I backpedal down court, he says Check, motherfucker!” and I said, “Yes, motherfucker, your right hand needs some work!” Country boy said, “Fuck you, Nigga.”

He is dribbling right, I think, “Time to call the police, cuff him, book him, and lock him up.” I’ve stolen the priceless pill, and I head south as fast as I can.  On second thought, I will wait for him at half court, I look at him; give him a head fake; he’s wavering; he’s off balance; and I’m off to the races. I break down into triple threat. Pity pat right. I palm the ball off the dribble, skip to the rack, and gently lay the ball off the glass as if I am the second coming of George the iceman Girvan basket. I laugh and say “when you step inside of the sacred lines, please bring you’re a-z game over”.

 As I dribble home, I say “Mother, the sacrificial lamb, who tends to her young sheep who have not been weaned to withhold mother’s milk from the young”.  Well, brothers and sisters, I have my gun cocked, loaded and ready.  In fact, I brought along extra ammo 75 bullets.  Why 75?  Let me tell you why:  2002-1927=75 (75 glorious years).  That’s how long Mama has graced this earth and that’s how long she has tended to her sheep (us). I know mama is 75 years old-pat 55 years old=20.

 
I know you’re saying, “That doesn’t add up”. Let me tell you how I did the math:

Our lives are planned from the womb to the tomb.  She is the sacrificial lamb.  So from her mom to our mom was planned, even before the beginning of time (praise god!!!)  God knew what we needed:  a mother who’d care, and love 12 children with different spirits.

She is “the sacrificial lamb”. From a baby she started being trained to take on such a task. She learned to give up what was needed, so we could get the best–not to reach for a slice of the pie–in order for us (the sheep) to have the whole pie in the sky, which would mold the rest of our lives.  She is “the sacrificial lamb” in Gal 5:22-the lord said, “We need the fruits of the spirit to be happy.”  So the lord blessed us with a teacher (Mama), who through trial and error showed us how to love, live, and be happy.  She showed us peace and patience.  She showed us kindness and goodness.  Yes, she even showed us gentleness and self-control.  Once again, I close like I opened.  She is “the sacrificial lamb”.

It’s a running shot, and I’m dribbling and holding my backpack on my shoulder as the car flies by at high speed.  I’m smiling and laughing.  I say to myself, “I know Auntie has some hardcore gangster shit.  Oops, I mean knowledge, insight, and words of wisdom for me today.”

 As I walk into the house and kiss my mother, I begin to walk down the hallway to kiss Hattie May, because she is unable to get up, and I hear her voice, “Michael, bring your ass here and put that motherfucking basketball down.”

 I enter mother’s room and say, “Yes, Ma’am.”

 ”Get that book and read to me.”

 ”What do you want me to read?”

 ”Nigga, open the book and start reading and only read for 75 seconds.  I’m counting.” Now a great sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a garland of twelve stars.  Then being with child, she cried out in labor and in pain to give birth.  And another sign appeared in heaven:

Behold a great fiery red dragon having seven heads, ten-horns, and seven diadems on his heads.  His tail drew a third of the stars of heaven and threw them to earth.

And the dragon stood before the woman who was ready to give birth, to devour her child as soon as it was born. She bore a male child who was to rule all nations, with a rod of iron. And her child was caught up to god, and his throne.  Then the woman fled into the wilderness, where she has a place prepared by god that they should feed her there, one thousand two hundred and sixty days.  And war broke out in heaven: 

Michael and his angels fought with the dragon and the dragon and his angels fought, but they did not prevail, nor was a place found for them in heaven any longer.  So the great dragon was cast out, that serpent of old, called the devil, and satin, which deceives the whole world.  He was cast to the earth and his angels were cast out of him.  Then I heard a loud voice saying in heaven, now salvation and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of his Christ have come, for the accuser of our brethren, who accused them before our good day and night have been cast down.  And they overcame him by the blood of the lamb and by the testimony they did not love their lives to death.  “Therefore rejoice o’heavens, and you who dwell in them!  Woe the inhabitants of the earth and the sea!   For the devil has come down to you, having great wrath, because he knows that he has a short time.”  Now when the dragon saw that he had been cast to the earth, he persecuted the woman who gave birth to the male child, but the woman was given two wings of Great eagle, that she might fly into the wilderness to her place where she is nourished for a time and times and half a time, from the presence of the serpent.

So the serpent spewed water out of his mouth like a flood after the woman, he might cause her to be carried away by the flood.  But the earth helped the woman, and the earth opened its mouth and swallowed up the flood, which the dragon had spewed out of his mouth.

And the dragon was enraged with the woman, and he went to make war with the rest of her offspring who keep the commandment of god and the testimony of Jesus Christ.

“Thank you, Michael.  Now get your ass out of here.”  As I walk out the door, she says, “Michael?”

 ”Yes   Ma’am?”  As I turned to make eye contact I will never forget what she said, “Look at me.  Look at me.  Look at me, Michael.  I’m tired of this.  I’m going home tomorrow.  Get your ass out of here and you better not tell your mother.”

 I went into my room and got my gray suit ready for the party.  I was standing in front of my bedroom mirror, “Michael, bring your ass here.”  “Yes Ma’am”.  As I enter the doorway she said, “That’s a nice gray suit” and I said, “To my dearest:  lay me out in all grays from head to toe and gray shoes to match.

My dearest “No jewelry please”!  My dearest, make sure that my armor is gray too…I must repeat myself, as so often I do…make sure that my armor is gray too.  I request family only, and the few real Niggas we know.  If you are offended, then it is you I speak to.

“Oh yes, my dearest, we are going to party.”  Remember that the after party is invitation only.  I will be looking for you.  I’ll be standing at the gates waiting for you.  I will be wearing gray from head to toe and I will have on gray shoes.  See you at heaven’s gates.  I know that it’s going to be the best after-party ever, because I know the party is going to last for eternity.  Hattie May and Audrey, I will see you both when I make it home.
It’s the state final.  The east and the west have been eliminated.  The north is wearing red uniforms and the south is wearing white uniforms. 

As we walk to center court-for jump ball-I hear a voice “Hey Nigga, I have to shut you down”!  I replied, “Nigga please. It’s triple-double time.

 The camera remains steady-the only thing you can see is my head and I say its game time! The camera zooms out and stops, “freeze frame”.

 ”Print it!”  I’m coming in for a crash landing.

 ”Slam dunk”.  As I run down court I look him in the eyes and scream, “Nigga, please!”

Greetings: brothers, and sisters.  Let me set the tone with this question?  What do Niggas and flies have in common?

 Niggas, please allow me the pleasure of telling you some super fly shit!  Ok, let me stop playing.  Have you ever wondered why Niggas do the shit they do?  (Now that’s some funny shit.)  Okay, I’m serious this time.

If you were to ask anyone in my family what Michael’s favorite movie is, most would say, without a doubt, the “Mack” or “Super Fly”.  I watch these movies over and over, and every time I’m amazed.  I say this in order for you to understand.  I’m an educated man: A.A., B.A., and a Master’s degree.  Ya know, the whole nine yards.  I kill myself sometimes.  What’s so funny to me when I watch these movies:  I know that these movies are real life reality filled with real killers, pimps, and dope dealers.  I can hear some of you saying-oh boy!!!  I know where he’s going with this-and you’re absolutely, positively, correct.  I’m going to say it and some will like it and some won’t.

I know some of you are saying, “Who does he think he is?”  Who am I?  I’m your brother…repeating myself, which I do often.  In order for you to understand this…some of us have bullshit, the “Mack”, “Super fly” and reality (family) mixed-up.  I’ll repeat that one more time, some of us have bullshit and reality mixed up.  Honestly speaking, some of us would help a Nigga off the street or from the street before we would help our own sisters and brothers.  It’s sad, but true.
 Well, sisters, I hope you don’t feel left out, but what I have to say is for my brothers.  What can they do, beat me up?  Funny!!!

Cliff, Greg, Ronnie, and myself…  Who is my brother’s keeper?  That delivery of who is my brother’s keeper was real crucial.  Sisters, I can see you smiling.  Once again I say this in order for you to understand that… a wise man makes a glad father, but a foolish son is the grief of his mother.

I’m sure my brothers will understand this.  Our mother’s home is just that-we should love, honor and most of all, respect her home.

In the words of the Mack, a.k.a. Goldie, “Niggas, we can talk about this like some gentlemen, or we can get into some gangsta shit!”  What I’m about to say is really going to fuck your head up:

Nigga please……………

Who is your brother’s keeper?

Who is your love?

Who do you honor?
Who do you respect?

I know some of you are saying, “Man, those are harsh words,” and I agree with you wholeheartedly.  And the only thing I can say is the truth is the truth and what’s worse is that we all know it’s the truth.  Brothers talk to me as if we were gentlemen.  I say that in order for you to understand this…I ain’t no muthafuckin’ gangsta.  I am your brother!!!  I repeat… I am your brother!!!

I am not some Nigga off the street.  Like DMX the rapper rapped, “Your flesh is my flesh and your blood is my blood.”  Think about it and you will say to yourself, “Now that’s some super fly shit.”  The paradox contradicts what our mother taught us brothers, take it or leave it alone (damn!!!).  That’s cold, brutal and shows no emotions, but never the less it’s true.

I close the same way I opened:

What do Niggas and flies have in common.

Niggas and flies both love shit!!!
Plantation
By traditional standards a plantation is a large estate or farm on which crops are raised by slaves which were bound in servitude to a person or household as an instrument of labor slaves were forced to be submissive and subject to a person of influence such as the slave holder or slave master slaves worked extremely hard for little or no pay slaves were considered the property of the slave holders and were often brutalized.
For me the basketball plantation  is not controlled, restricted,   regulated – I am free to chose – I am not held as a prisoner or slave it’s a free country not subject to traditional conventions or limitations it is a place of harmony, love, peace, refuge, solace a free state of mind it is my salvation.  Game Over!

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The Basketball Plantation
The Ecclesiastes of Greenville lost soul #12 Sinners, alpha, Omega, Crucifixion, & the Kingdom of Christ

 

Game 3
Time-out!

Coach Greenville is yelling and screaming, “Come on girls get into the ball game”.  They’re killing us coach, please show us what to do. How to love, honor, and respect the game?  Girls, you are correct, it is my responsibility to show and teach you the basic fundamentals of the game of life, and basketball.  I will check in and play the entire forth quarter.  I will teach you the complete game from a-z.  I will lead by example.  The buzzer sounds and third quarter’s over.

The announcer says, checking into the game, “He has an associate; a Bachelor; a Masters; and a PhD in the game of Life.”  I once saw him shoot 12 lay-ups, 12 jumpers, 12 free throws, 12 slam-dunks, and called-out all of his brothers and sisters names, all in 12 seconds. A 12 time all-star, he has led the Jefferson Democrats from a team that was about to fold and call it quits, to 12 time world champions.  He is a journeyman who traveled from Greenville to Chicago to Boston, and now home”.

I checked into the game, and waited for the ref to blow the whistle to let everyone know the forth quarter was about to start.  I thought to myself, Ronnie let me tell you what I saw on Saturday night, it’s called 1, 2, and 3, slam-dunk.  It’s 9:30 p.m., I open my front door and I hear my baby Peyton crying.  She wants to go swimming, and she thinks I forgot.  I did not forget.  I went out to get her favorite drink–milk.  Peyton and Lexi, lets go to the pool.

As I open the safety gate, Lexi walks to the north end of the pool, and Peyton walks to the south end and takes her shoes off.  They both take off running.  Both are in full flight as they get ready to cannon-ball into the water.  Peyton turns around to hear words of encouragement-as she pinches her nose and closes her eyes.  “Freeze frame” and “print it” 12 times instead of hearing me clapping and saying Peyton your awesome, she hears the words “Mother of Carrie, you do not have on your water wings”.

As she crashes with full impact, and travels down through the water, “slam dunk,” I say, “Phi slamma jamma!”  As she continues to travel down, Peyton kicks her legs and begins to pedal her feet.  She opens her eyes so wide I can see her soul, as she looks deep into my eyes, from beneath the water.  She let’s go of her nose and starts to flap her arms as I wait patiently for her to blast out of the water.  I see Lexi swimming south–looking like a torpedo–speeding through the water as she swims with her eyes focused intensely on her baby sister.  I see the look of a champion, which makes me swell-up inside, and I feel so proud of my first born and my second born, as they both shoot out the water-like the space shuttle being launched from Cape Canaveral. 

As Lexi helps Peyton out of the pool and Peyton runs full speed to me, Peyton takes one deep breath, while Lexi and I sigh with relief.

The ref blows the whistle and hands Pam the ball.  As Pam in-bounds the ball to me I said, “my team is complete: Peyton, Lexi, Pam, the unborn, and me, make five.  It’s game time and we are ready”. As I run down court full speed under control I fake left and go right, hop off the floor, and jammed the ball through the rim full force, and I hear my team of all-Americans say all together “Slam dunk”.

The Godfather
Hello.  I want to tell you about a phone call I received May 13, 2002 from my brother Maurice.  We are not blood brothers, but by spirit.  A bond we have shared and nourished for over 20 years.  I picked up the phone and said “Hello” and I remember hearing Mo say “you are a godfather” and at that moment I swelled-up inside and I was overwhelmed with joy and happiness.  As I intensely listened to him I could hear the proud voice of a father who had just witnessed the birth of his son.

I could mentally, physically, and spiritually feel his excitement through the phone and then I thought about Wendi, his wife-and soul mate-and the precious, priceless gift of life that she has given Mo.

By the grace of god, it was on his christening day that we all said “Thank you for the blessing” to our lord and savior Jesus Christ.  We thank you for the ultimate gift:  the gift of life.  I humbly and graciously accept the honor of being the godfather of your first-born.

A message from mother

Family:
 Definition:
 Unconditional love
 Sometime sacrifice
 Always willing to forgive

Let us now be patient with each other.  Most families go through stressful times; it is important when one of us is having a difficult time to step back and realize that what we may do or say should not always be taken to heart.  If you need to draw away for a moment, do so, it is your sorting time.  Let us not reject one another.  Take some quiet time to think things through…let us always be patient with each other and respect each other’s individual idea.  Let us agree to disagree but never become upset with one another.  Since we are a family with many members, all with individual inner strength, together we can be so strong to withstand anything especially during difficult times let us all get along.

Holiday seasons are approaching and we have so much to be thankful for.  God has blessed me with twelve children:  Pat, Linda, Audrey, Brenda, Nita, Cliff, Wanda, Greg, Val, Ronnie, Sharon, and Michael.  I love all of you the same.  It is hard for me to see my children divide themselves when we are family.  So many thoughts are of you.  Each night when the world is quiet and still, I love your wonderful smile and all the wonderful moments we have shared.  Also, granny loves all of her grandchildren.  Love, Mom.  Game Over!

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The Basketball Plantation
The Ecclesiastes of Greenville lost soul #12 Sinners, alpha, Omega, Crucifixion, & the Kingdom of Christ

 

Game 4
The Mam-me and Pap-pe mentral show
Acts 1-3 & the Grand Finale

ACT 1
The huge green curtain’s open Mam-me and Pap-pe are sitting center stage at an old wooden table and the audience is laughing and cheering and having a grand old time.  As they throw fruit at Mam-me and Pap-pe the smell of fresh fruit overwhelms the theater watermelons, cherries, oranges, apples, lemons, green grapes, plums, banana’s, peaches, strawberries, pears, and honey drew melons.  They both jump up from the table and turn to face the audience “Welcome to the Mam-me and Pap-pe mentral show”.

The crowd goes psycho yelling and screaming out of control then the curtain’s quickly close as the crowd cheers the curtain’s open and the spot light is focused on a clown who is sitting in a rocking chair and the clown scream pulls a cell phone  out of his pocket and  calls his mother he screams mom I just want to beat his ass I hate him for all the shit he did to me that’s why I just stay away because I don’t know what I might do to him mother and she said Michael, Michael, Michael!  Once more then she humbly said “baby get on your knees.”  She prayed for me then she paused  in silence for exactly 12 seconds then her 12 gauge shot gun went off and bucks shot came barreling out of the phone as the buck shots continues to barrel out of the phone I could not remove the phone from my ear god had stitched it to my ear with his blood I fall face first to the floor and as my ear bleeds  mother continues to buck her shot gun at this point my brain’s are spread out all over the carpet in 12 pieces understanding, guidance, death, patience, sacrifice, despair, hope, reconcile, love, strength, honor, and courage.

I lay there headless the only recognizable part of head was my ear which is attached intact, and stitched to my phone and my mother is still bucking her shot gun. And the words travel from my phone and in my ear out of my ear and on to the floor and as they touch the carpet they turn into blood I try to get up and gather my senses my headless body continues to shake I hear my mother cocking her shot gun and buck! A drop of olive oil falls out of the phone, which is attached, intact, and stitched to my ear.

The olive oil hits the carpet and my mother tongue touched every book of the bible old and new. She continues to talk in tongues the carpet begins to turn white as the red words float to the ceiling they touched the ceiling my mother says amen and hangs the phone up. The phone is attached, intact and stitched to my ear by the blood of god who has prepared me for another therapy session for anger, hurt and pain.

ACT 2
I approach the corner. I see 12 gangsta’s shooting dice they are wearing Levi’s 501’s pressed with heavy starch and the creases are sharp enough to slice a watermelon dark green and light green stripped t-shirts that reminded me of watermelon and watermelon flesh red golf hats on their feet they wore green house shoes I am dribbling with my left hand and holding my boom box in my right hand I see mister Sammy pick up his money and put it in his pocket then he runs full speed straight at me he stops and breaks down into a defensive stands  and says to me let me see what you got I sat my radio down I dribble left, left, again which takes me into the right cross-over between my legs the ball is now in my left hand bounce behind my back and the ball is now in my right hand I bounce the ball high exactly 12 feet I step towards my radio turn the volume up and turn around and sit on my radio and I say come on mister Sammy stop playing around you know how cold my game is as I sit there studying the dice game. I stood up and then picked up my radio and bounced to the house.

ACT 3
I’m watching the NCAA basketball tournament “March Madness” and a commercial comes on. I step outside to get some fresh air and to stretch I’m now standing in the backyard and I hear barking. It sounds like 12 dogs are in the doghouse, oh shit! And I start running, 12 pink pit bulls are chasing me through the backdoor; and into the den I run and jump and take flight like Michael Jordon taking off from the free throw line as I travel through the air.  Wham! One handed jam through my big screen T.V.

I land in the cotton fields at the basketball plantation and I keep running as I run through the cotton fields like a 12mm bullet shot from glock. The pit bulls are still chasing me they catch me as I lay there being ripped to pieces by the dogs’ razor sharp teeth. A lady appears from the heavens and she has three angels with her and all four of them are wearing white uniforms and the word Greenville in bold kryptonite green letters across their chest, and all four of them in sequence pulled their 12mm glocks out of their shorts and shot all 12 pink pit bulls. The oldest angel Faith walked over to me and threesome followed her they all at once looked into my eyes and started to pray after praying they all stood up and the mother of the three angels said “we have to piece your father back together with the blood of the pink pit bulls. Angels bring me a cup of blood from each one of the dogs then he will drink the blood and read the bible. Your father must save himself after drinking the blood of the 12 pink pit bulls he will have the knowledge of 12 people summed up in one person.

The Grand Finale
And now our grand finale we will have three people from the audience to play “Nigga do what I say”. The crowd goes bananas and everyone in the theater is waving their hands saying “pick me”, “you sir in the black suit, you right there with the brown dress on, and you sir in the white suit that has pictures of fresh fruit stitched around the collar.” O.k. Mam- and Pap-pe are you ready to play “Nigga do what I say” They both reply “yes sir master.”

The first volunteer from the audience turns to the crowd and says,” you folks are going to laugh until you start crying Mam-me you nappy headed cotton picker bring your black ass over here and stand right there” “Nigga do what I say” when I say nigga you say wretch he said nigga and then she said wretch after the 12th nigga wretch he stopped and fill to floor laughing and the audience fill out of their seats they were laughing so hard.

The second volunteer said if you thought that was funny watch this Pap-pe bring you black ass, jungle-bunny, bug-eyed coon-looking ass here and bring a banana with you the volunteer tied Pap-pe up from his legs he is now hanging upside down the volunteer said peel the banana boy and while your eating the banana scratch the top of your head and make sounds like you’re a black ass ghetto monkey and the audience laughed at Pap-pe as if they were watching the funniest show on earth.

The third volunteer who is wearing a white suit with pictures of fresh fruit stitched around the collar the man smiled at the audience with a smile that was so big his teeth looked like they were as big as ivory white dominoes and then he took his hat off which had twelve 12 inch feather tucked and arranged neatly in the band of his hat. The fruit colored feathers tower over the top of the hat Mam-me come over please she ran over to young man and said son that hat is beautiful with all those pretty feathers.

The feathers remind me of fresh fruit he said thank you Mam-me for the compliment and he took off his suit coat which has pictures of fresh fruit stitched around the collar and he said put my coat on which fit her like a custom tailored dress and the hat fit her to perfection the crowd at this point is laughing so hard that people are laying on the floor like causalities of war spread out on the battle field Mam-me I want you to tell me old Negro proverb, than he handed Mam-me the bible and open it and begin to read:

Does not wisdom cry-out
And understanding lift up her voice?
She takes her stand on the top of the high hill,
Beside the way, where the path meet,
She cries out by the gates, at the entry of the city,
At the entrance of the doors:
“To you, O men, I call,
And my voice is to the sons of men.
O you simple ones, understand prudence,
And you fools be of an understanding heart.
Listen, for I will speak of excellent things,
And from the opening of my lips will come right things;
For my mouth will speak truth;
Wickedness is an abomination to my lips.
All the words of my mouth are with righteousness; Nothing crooked or perverse is in them.  They are all plain to him, who understands, And right to those who find knowledge.  Receive my instruction, and not silver,
And knowledge rather than choice gold;
For wisdom is better than rubies,
And all the things one may desire cannot be compared with her.
‘I, wisdom, dwell with prudence,
And find out knowledge and discretion.
The fear if the Lord is to hate evil;
Pride and arrogance and the evil way
And the perverse mouth I hate.
Counsel is mine, and sound wisdom;
I am, understanding, I have strength.
By me the kings reign,
And rulers decree justice.
By me princes rule, and nobles,
All the judges of the earth
I love those who love me, seek me diligently will find me
Riches and honor are with me,
Enduring riches and righteousness.
My fruit is better than gold, yes, than fine gold, And my revenue than choice silver.  I traverse the way of righteousness, in the midst of the paths of justice, That I may cause those who love me to inherit wealth,
That I may fill their treasuries.
The Lord possessed me at the beginning of his way,
Before his works of old.
I have been established from everlasting,
From the beginning, before there was ever an earth.
When there were no fountains abounding with water.
Before the mountains were settled,
Before the hills, I was brought forth;
While as yet he had not made the earth or the fields,
Or the primal dust of the world.
When He prepared the heavens, I was there,
When He drew a circle on the face of the deep,
When He established the clouds above,
When He strengthened the fountains of the deep,
When He assigned to the sea its limit,
So that the waters would not transgress His command,
When He marked out the foundations of the earth,
Then I was beside Him as a master craftsman; And I was daily his delight, Rejoicing always before him, Rejoicing in his inhabited world, And my delight was with the son of men. “Now therefore, listen to me, my children,
For blessed are those who keep my ways.
Hear instruction and be wise,
And do not disdain it.
Blessed is the man who listens to me,
Watching daily at the gates,
Waiting at the posts of my doors.
For whoever finds me finds life,
And obtains favor from the Lord;
But he who sins against me wrongs his own soul;
All those who hate me love death.”  After Mam-me’s last words which were amen and game over and the audience slapped and cheered for Mam-me and Pap-pe like they had just won the NBA championship.  Game Over!

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The Basketball Plantation
The Ecclesiastes of Greenville lost soul #12 Sinners, alpha, Omega, Crucifixion, & the Kingdom of Christ
Game 5
The Patriot-Stars & Stripes/the Slave Ship

Boom!  Boom!  Boom!  It’s the thumbing sound of 12 12-inch woofers subbing.  A thunderous baseline.  It’s banging and daunting low pitch voice is chanting relentlessly beneath the awesome boom of the beat-game time, game time-over and over.

As it plays at a snails pace, a red 1967 Bentley pulls up and the license plate was the definition of a palindrome.  The word mom, the same word on the front, and the back plate.

It’s two the hard way Peyton.  My 4 year old is driving and Lexi my 9 year old is giving her baby sister instruction’s on how they are going to make a left and go south and park on the dock and when the slave ship pulls into the port we are going to watch a movie.  Peyton says Lexi, “I understand big sister the drive-in movie.”  Lexi says “Peyton, Here comes the ship as it slowly pulls into port.”  Peyton says, “Lexi, what’s the name of the movie?” with a raspy voice.  She said The One Man Mutiny, The Emancipated Slave, who freed himself with a pen and paper.  It’s time to take a journey.  The vessel of communication will be on a ship of souls.  The souls of slaves-millions and millions of black kings and black queens, and let’s not forget their offspring, beaten and treated less then nothing.  Taken by force from the homeland of Africa: It’s the unthinkable; the unbelievable; the unforgettable; and the unforgivable.  The senseless waste and slaughter of human life.  One of the most horrifying and sinister Holocaust known to mankind’s past, present, and future.  Packed in the bottom of a ship like sardines in a can with no regard to life, enslaved and looked upon as if life is of no worth.  A voyage through the treacherous and blood filled waters of the black sea of life abroad a gigantic monstrous wooden ship, known as the great African-American slave ship.

 Peyton and Lexi look into the camera and they both say “sit back and relax and enjoy the Sunday matinee without further due Long Beach presents The Basketball Plantation.

 Ahoy mates.  Imagine that you are human cargo.  Lay on your backs and I will chain you down at your waist and ankles.  This is a voyage to uncharted water (the deep depths of my soul) a conversation with myself, writing is spiritual counsel for my mind, body, and soul.  Pen and paper is my gun and words are my ammo.  Writing allows me to commit madness, murder, and mayhem on paper.  For me, this is very healthy and very therapeutic.  I can vent and unleash the anger, hurt, and pain trapped deep within my mental realm, and psyche.
 A voyage through the stormy sea known as “life”.  The skies are as blue as a North Carolina basketball jersey and the clouds as white as doves.  It’s a perfect day for sailing the seas.  A deckhand is running full speed Captain!  Captain!  Captain!  The 12th and final selection of the stars and stripes, All American team has been captured.

 “Finally, after 12 years of recruiting, phone calls, and writing letters, we have him” the captain says. Prepare to set sail at 12:00 P.M.  It is time to return to the homeland, we have a team that will play basketball for the United States of America and represent the Stars and Stripes in the upcoming World War and Peace games.  Master said if the slave ship returns to America without Psycho-Mycho, it would be the death warrant of the 12 scouts’ translation finds another coaching job, then the captain looks at his watch-tic-tock, tic-tock, the big hand and the little hand meets at the number 12.  Then the captain looks at the bell ringer and nods his and then 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12 bells ring.
 I feel the 200 and 12 foot long wooden ship drifting away from the beautiful coast of Africa.  I shed a tear as I am forced to leave the homeland. As I lay on my back chained at my ankles and my waist in the belly of this beast, a slave ship named “Intensity”…I think to myself…We have sailed the sea, for many days and nights have past since we departed the African coast and my entire body aches.  I’ve been kept like an animal. No, less then an animal I’ve been treated sub-human.  I am locked beneath the deck of the ship, but no matter what mistreatment and abuse they hand out I can take it.  Practice pass, dribble, shooting drill, after drill, and studying and homework: English, Math, Science, The Arts, but I will manage to use self-control and I will not allow my spirit or faith to be tested, or broken as I remain on my back.  Traveling as human cargo I clearly hear talking on the deck of the ship.  Twelve coaches are sitting on the deck of the slave ship and they’re having a round table discussion on how to handle the questions that the reporters will have about who will represent the Stars and Stripes in the World War and Peace games.  The coaches come up with a consensus on what Coach G will say to the reporters.

The ship docks they have returned safely to America.

 As the coaches exit the ship they’re mobbed by reporters asking questions about who has been selected to be on the team. Coach G says to the reporters “The final selections have been made.  There will be a press conference at 12 noon that will give the coaches and scouts enough time to clean-up the slaves and make them presentable for the press conference”. Each coach will introduce his or her selection and why they chose the player they did and go over the players profile after the announcement of the 12 players are made.  Each player will answer one question for the reporters.

 One of the reporters says “Coach G, can you tell us who is on the team”.  “No, but I can tell you that it’s the best team ever assembled to represent the Stars and Stripes.  Thank you and I will see all of you in one hour for the press conference.”  Coach gets in his car and drives off and he immediately picks-up his cell phone and calls his secretary and tells her to make arrangements for the 12 players.  “Buy them the best of the best and the best of everything.  Do not worry about how much it cost.  Spare no expense.”  12:00 P.M., the deck of the slave ship is jammed packed with reporters, cameramen, agents, scouts, and coaches.

 The players waited beneath, below the deck of the ship in the dink, dark, and dingy dungeon.

Coach G stands up and he says, “Hello everyone.  Without further delay the moment that we’ve all been waiting for: Please give a warm welcome to The United States Of America, The Stars And Stripes, All American Team.”

 It’s time to hit the hardwood floor. It’s game time.  Now here’s how the movie begins.  It’s a picture of 12 slaves: 8 females and 4 males.  They are lined up side by side and they all have bulls eye’s carved in their chest.  As I walk over to view the massacre on the top deck through my 12×12 window of my captain’s quarters, it gives me a larger than life view of the entire deck of the ship.  The marksman loads his gun as he walks over to the window where I am now standing.  As he gets closer I see the huge wooden door being opened in the background by the deck hand all 12 slaves walk from beneath the deck of the ship and they are now standing at center court on display for the whole world to see. They all are looking at me then they started to march in place and they sang, “Free me over and over”.  Then they all stopped at once and placed their right hands over their hearts and all in sequence annunciated the following:
 
I Pledge Allegiance
To The Flag
Of The United States Of America
And To The Republic
For Which It Stands
One Nation
Under God
Indivisible
With Liberty
And Justice
For All
 When they finished the pledge the marksmen took aim at me and then said “It’s time for me to take target practice on anger, hurt, and pain” and shot me 12 xs in the head blowing my mind and brains out and on to the floor of the captain’s quarters.

 As my blood flowed from my head, I lay on my back, and then the marksmen said “I am the slave who shot the captain of the ship.”  The camera cuts to the 12 All-Americans who are standing at center court (which is the deck of the slave ship) and it’s time for the National Anthem and the player’s introductions.  The slaves are standing on the deck of the ship, all of them are wearing uniforms that have 50 stars and 13 stripes.  Representing the Star Spangled Banner, each one is intensely looking and focused on a man named 75 years of glory. He is wearing a red, white, and blue straight jacket.  He is harmonizing the sweet sound of:

Oh, say can you see, by the dawn’s early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, thro’ the perilous fight,
O’er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming,
And the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flags was still there,
Oh, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave,
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore dimly seen, thro’ the mists of the deep,
Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o’er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,
In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream;
‘Tis the Star- Spangled Banner! O, long may it wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
 Then he pointed to the ball rack, which had twelve basketballs sitting on it and yelled “Captain” who was standing next to the rack. “Captain, can you please pass me a ball?” He dribbled south and headed for the hoop. He spread his wings and took flight and soared through the air like a great bald eagle, and then he locked the ball behind his head. As he attacked the rim the backboard exploded like a box of 4th of July fireworks. He landed and stood on the broken glass barefoot and bleeding, then he said “Today is my day of independence” staring all 12 slaves.

 The captain said “Emancipated slave, what is the name of that spectacular dunk?” he said, “Intensity trapped in the belly of the beast.”  The game is over and this slave ship bound for Glory. “Bon Voyage”.  Game Over!

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The Basketball Plantation
The Ecclesiastes of Greenville lost soul #12 Sinners, alpha, Omega, Crucifixion, & the Kingdom of Christ
Game 6
The Sunday Matinee

12 Klansmen Pictures in association with Black Shakespeare & Run- Nigga – Run productions humbly introduces slave ink from the heart and soul of a champion it’s god’s son’s finest.
Executive Produced, Written, and Directed by Greenville The poet exclusively for The Basketball Plantation

Welcome to the Greenville Theater how I can help you today sir one adult ticket and two children tickets for the 12:12 Sunday matinee here’s your tickets enjoy your show. Lexi, Peyton, what do you want from the snack bar? I’ll have two hot dogs, one pack of licorice, one large popcorn, one water and two small lemonades I pay for the snacks and we head south I hand the usher the tickets and he rips them in-half and hands them back to me.  As we sit down in theater 12 the words, “Now for our feature presentation”:

“The Priceless Platinum 75-inch Big Screen TV!”

THE BLOOD RED COTTON CANDY PARROT
 
Translation:

THE BOY WHO COULD READ AND WRITE PIG LATIN

PIG LATIN: A jargon systematically formed by transposing the initial consonant to the end of the word so as to form an additional syllable, as Igpay Atinlay (Pig Latin).

Guest stars in order of age:
Atpay as Understanding
Indalay as Guidance
Udreyay as Death
Rendabay as Patience
Itanay as Sacrifice
Liffcay as Despair
Andaway as Hope
Reggay as Reconcile
Alvay as Love
Onnieray as Strength
Aronshay as Honor
And
Ichaelmay as Courage

The screen fades, from black to white, the camera focuses-it’s a postcard picture perfect shot, a cinematic master piece.  A slave is running through the cotton fields at the plantation he is running so fast you would think 12 Klansmen were chasing him.  He runs into the big house screaming “master, master, excuse me, Master.  Please, may I have a moment of your time?”

Master stands up and walks over to the slave and said “jingo the jag-a-boo, you bug-eyed spade, you watermelon rand eating bastard, you midnight black stepchild, house, Nigga, you know not to disturb me while I’m eating.”

“Master, I know you’re eating your supper.  I am sorry and I apologize.  What is it house Nigga?  What do you want?”

“Master, that youngest brother of my mother is hiding in the cotton fields reading a book.”

What book?

The bible Master.  He says no God fearing man would hurt anyone for reading the Bible. He talking about he will never be a slave and that he is a disciple.  He is not a coon.  He talking about he is an educated man, one of many degrees.
Boy, you make me sick–you slave ass coon.

Why, Master?

Because you snitched on your own brother…your very own blood…you old fool!  Go into the Master’s quarters and fetch my hood, my robe, my shotgun, and my chain.  And please, Jingo the Jag-a-Boo, don’t forget my rope.  No, Despair, you old fool, I understand why your brother does not want to be like you.  You are a slave and a coon.  He is different from you.  I must show the rest of you slaves the fear of God by making him the example, the sacrificial lamb.  We will track him down with the hounds and he will be hanged from the tree at sunset.  Yes, you old fool your favorite tree.  The tree I named after you “The Judas’ tree”. You bug-eye spade, run to the stables and fetch my white horse-the Imperial Grand Wizard.

“Yes Master.  Right away”.  Here’s your horse, Master.  You watermelon-rand eating bastard, gather up all the slaves on the plantation and have them meet you at your favorite tree at sunset.  One other thing, you midnight black stepchild.  My Klan and I will be very thirsty after tracking your brother down.  Have us some ice-cold lemonade waiting by the tree.

“Yes, Master.  Master?

What is it now?”

I know that I am an old fool, a coon and a slave, but there is one thing that I know for sure.  It will not be an easy task to catch him.  He has the strength of 11 oxen plus that of his own.

Those words you speak are nonsense.

Master, it is the truth.  Proceed with caution.  If it were not for my mother he would beat my punk ass.  He would dismember me limb from limb.  That boy Psycho-Mycho is crazy.  I’m not worried.  My mama will give me protective custody.  She will take good care of me.  She knows that I am an old fool, a coon and a slave.  I am what I am and that’s all I can be.  He obeys her every commandment without question.  Mother taught him kindness, gentleness and self-control.  He is the strongest of the 12.  When he was the runt I tried to kill him, mentally, physically and spiritually.  In his early elementary years I exposed and made him (by force) smoke marijuana, drink alcohol and take pills (Red Devils and many others).  All the elements that I could to make him just like me: part of a gang, a country coon life, cotton, and rice Negro.  But through all the crucifixion, nothing worked.  He obeys her every commandment without question.

Nigga please.  My Klan and I are going to ride down of him like the cold Boston and Chicago winter’s snow.  We will catch him and chain him to the tree face first, then I will wet my whip with olive oil and I will give him 12 lashes on his back.  After every lashing I will give him the chance to change, to repent and say I will obey your every command, Master.  Yours…and only yours!  After cracking my whip 12 times, my Klan and I will hang him from your tree. He can run, but he can’t hide.

No, no, no.  Not the dogs.

No, Psycho-Mycho.  Do you want me to hang you from that tree?

Yes I do, Master.

Let’s see how long you can hold your breath?  Do you have any last words you educated Nigga?  It’s nothing I hate more then a boy who has courage.

Yes, Master, may I please speak?

Brothers and sisters, during the course of your reading, some of you will say the words that I write are those of an evil spirit.  I must agree with you.  When I write I am first of all speaking to myself and then to others.  This is my story of how I view and perceive life.  This is my Declaration of Independence from slavery.  This is my exorcist from bondage mentally, physically and spiritually.  This is a direct attack on the evil spirits that are in each and every one of us.  Not on the individual, but on the evil spirits that are in each of us.  I want to make it as clear as I can Pat, Linda, Audrey, Brenda, Nita, Cliff, Wanda, Greg, Val, Ronnie, Sharon.  This is war between Good and Evil, which is in all of us.  The Seven Deadly Sins, which are:

Lust-intense sexual desire or appetite, uncontrolled or illicit sexual desire; gluttony-excessive eating, drinking or drug use; avarice-insatiable greed for riches, inordinate, miserly desire to gain and hoard wealth; sloth-indolence, laziness; wrath-stern or fierce anger, deep indignation, ire, vengeance or punishment as the consequence of anger; envy-a feeling of resentful discontent, begrudging admiration or covetousness with regard to another’s advantages, possessions or attainments, desire for something possessed by another; and pride-the state or quality of being proud, self-respect, a feeling of gratification arising from association with something good or laudable, civic pride, a high or inordinate opinion of one’s own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, conceit, arrogance.  Lust, gluttony, avarice, sloth, wrath, envy and pride are the genetics that make us who we are.  My favorite book states that it is not a battle against flesh and blood, but a battle of principality of the air.

Run, run and run.  I will repeat myself as I often do, run blood run!  Breathe Pat, breathe Linda, breathe Audrey, breathe Brenda, breathe Nita, breathe you old fool, you slave, you coon, breathe Wanda, breathe Greg, breathe Valerie, breathe Ronnie and Sharon.
Mama, how much longer is he going to hold his breath?  Mama, please.  Please, please, Mother!  Enough is enough.

As I hang and hold my breath I’m thinking, “Mother, it’s been 27,375 days at the Judas Tree.”  My thoughts are, “Mother, please!  Times 12.  Mother, enough is enough.  Free me and I will my brothers and sisters.
“Free him.”  Remove his chains from around his arms and the rope from around his neck.  Mycho, breathe! Breathe! BREATHE!
“Thank you, Mother.”  These words I write are for my mother, who I love, who I respect, whom I honor.

“SWISH”
It’s a continuous “running shot”.  It starts at Alpha and ends at Omega.  We will have twelve cameras in order to get twelve different viewpoints.  As I position myself at my camera and get ready for the “master shot”, I take 3 deep breaths and softly scream, “Greenville,” and take one last breath.

 We inbound the ball and I hear my brother Ronnie.  Smiling and thinking, I better put my seat belt on and I hear him scream, “Drive, Blood, Drive!”  I hear Ronnie say “Psycho-Mycho, open the gates and let the dogs loose.”
“Please Master, not the bloodhounds!  Please Master”…thinking in slow motion…”Baby brother, and show me a full length feature film.”
 I dip from my left hand, back to my right, and I smash on the gas.  I explode off the floor, and I’m coming home real heavy-handed.  Stop in mid-flight.  “Freeze frame.”  “Print it.”

 As I continue to climb in altitude, I’m thinking, “Windmill, tomahawk, reverse, 360, or power jam?”  As time runs out, I softly say the words, “Slam dunk,” and I gently finger rolls the ball exactly 12 inches above the rim, up and down through the net.  SWISH!

BREATHE 1
 The screen is black with big, bold, bloody red letters that say, “Slave State University” in the middle of the screen.  The word bounce up and down 12 times then fades away.

 The following words in bloody red letters start to appear on the screen one by one in super “slow motion”.  I could go from the toughest ghettos in the world to the lecture halls of the best institutions of higher learning in the world and none compares to the lessons that I learned as a PG/CO (Prison Guard/Correction Officer).

No matter how in-depth and profound a professor may have been about their insight, or how they perceived the world, and life.  I repeat none compares to working as a PG/CO.  I resigned from teaching and coaching to be a PG/CO.  I know most are thinking, “Why?  How?” but more importantly, I want you to understand why I know, and I still do not understand.

I’ve also been behind bars of a prison.  I wanted to know why we do not love, honor, and respect our brothers-sisters included.  Furthermore, I wanted to live amongst the dead who have not died, but still breathe.  Some just…but more unjust.

Why yes, the institutions of higher learning.  My thoughts are, I know for sure that a higher being, much greater than myself, and much more mightier than myself, has blessed me with the courage to tell the world of what we all have known from the beginning, which is Alpha, and until the end, which is Omega.  So what is between Alpha, and Omega?  The Lamb, and along with the Lamb comes understanding, guidance, death, patience, sacrifice, hope, reconcile, love, strength, honor, and courage.

God knew what I needed was to come from my youngest seed.  Those words were, “Father, please can we go outside and play?  How about me, Dad?”  The only thing I could do was stand in front of the television and weep like a baby:  In-depth and profound words, from the mouth of a baby.  Few may understand, but fewer have the courage to seek and keep their place.  If you are of the educated (or are of those who are not) simply stated, for those who are attending an institution of higher learning, be it by choice, or by force, all will understand these words, the words of a Disciple.  The beginning, which is the Alpha-is the end-and at the end of our glorious lives we must remember that the Sacrificial lamb has taught us (the sheep) to proceed with caution because there will always be wolves amongst the sheep.  I will close the same way I opened: I could go from the toughest ghettos in the world to the lecture halls of the best institutions of
Higher learning in the world and none compares to the lessons that I learned as a PG/CO.

BREATHE 2
 I walked into my mother’s home, full of hot lead-eleven holes exactly.  I realize that I would have to remember the teaching of all the disciples understanding, guidance, death, patience, sacrifice, hope, reconcile, love, strength, honor, and courage to forget about despair.  As I cocked and got ready to unload for the last time, I would have to do the unthinkable.  I would have to shoot myself as I put the gun to my head…please understand the text I use…gun to my head.  A voice said to me, “Dad, I hear the ice cream truck” as we came into our home.  I said, “Hurry Blood.  We can jump in the car, and hit a few corners and pull up on him.”  “Okay, Daddy.  Let’s go!”  As we hurried to the car I thought, “Damn, this is some gangsta shit, funny, huh?”

 We hit a few corners and pulled up on him.  As I grabbed my Blood and walked up to the truck, my blood said, “Father,” mother included asked me “Please do not buy ice cream from that mean man.  Dad, this is the wrong ice cream truck.”  I don’t care what you claim, all must admit, from the church house to death row, all will say, “Now that’s gangsta.”

 As I drove home I realized that I did not have one red-cent and the only thing I could do was weep like a baby that had been weaned from his mother’s milk.  As my Blood said, “Father,” mother included, she said, “I would rather have a bottle filled with milk.  Let’s go home.”  Suicide!  I had to die in order to be born again…excuse me, reborn.

 You see, I have lived amongst the good, the bad, and please do not forget the ugly.  The ugly is what makes life so beautiful.  No matter what you read between the lines, the words I write can only be taken one way:  Love is love, cuzz.  That’s what makes us Disciples.

 At the tender age of 34, I so often wear my thoughts of crucifixion on my body, which is a rope around my neck, and a chain around my wrist, left wrist included, because I am no longer in prison.  As I once heard Martin Luther King s “Free at last, free at last…thank God almighty…I’m free at last.”  Who would have ever thought a pen and paper would bring my way to Salvation disguised as courage?  If I could bottle this up and sell it, I would make millions.  On the other hand, I may not make one red cent…salvation is priceless!

BREATHE 3
 I wake-up one morning and looked in the mirror and who awaited me?  It was Bozo the Muthafuckin’ Clown, literally, and the only thing I could do was stand in front of the mirror and weep like a baby.  I realized for the first time that because of my pain and my suffering I was becoming what I despaired most, a Nigga, and had been treating my dearest like dogs.  I was making my family live the same way that old fool, coon, and slave had treated my brothers and sisters and myself.  I write to say I had become a savage, an animal, a clown, a Crip, a Blood, but worst of all, a Nigga like my dad and brother a sad excuse for a man, although, I have lots (an infinite number) of excuses for not being a man.  I knew better from the time I was in my mother’s womb, beginning on March 10, 1967.  My first breath until my last breathe because our mother taught us that…and that is a FACT!

 Ever since I can remember, my brothers have been allowed to rain on everybody’s parade…correction…brothers, sisters included…have been allowed to rain on everybody’s parade.  Oh yeah, while it’s on my mind, I know 100% sure that some will call Mother and say, “Why would Psycho-Mycho say such mean and crazy things?”  Do not wonder why and do not trouble Mother.  Please call me and I will tell you exactly how I feel.  These are my thoughts.  The day of my birth has come.

My first breath and it’s a wonderful thing that I choose not to accept it.  No more insanity!  The sad but honest truth is I was so caught up in the anger, the hurt the pain and the rage, I did not realize that I was doing what I despaired most.  I was making life unbearable for my dearest.  I want you to know that I love you from my first breath to my last breath.  The only words I can say to my dearest clean-up woman are that I apologize for the hurt and pain.  By cleansing myself of the demons that my blood had prescribed, I had wounded my spirit, my soul, my heart and my very existence.  You see, my dearest, I have lost you.  I know this to be a fact.  I know this to be a fact because I know that the blind cannot lead the blind if neither can see.  Example, let’s make-up some names.  Let’s say C-Money a.k.a. Dumb and David Dog a.k.a. Dumber.  You get it?

Oh, I forgot, neither can read this.  Why?  Reading and writing are both fundamentals.  I know why Niggas are scared of me because they can’t understand what I’m saying. 

They are afraid of the words.  I know some of you are saying, “Damn!  That’ fucked up,” and you’re right.  On the other hand, people need to know and understand when enough is enough.  I know this to be a fact and my dearest knows it to be a fact!  My dearest who has loved me unconditionally, I cannot, will not allow you to have a wounded spirit, soul, heart or existence.  The only other words I can say for my dearest and also for myself…sorry…and I Apologize because I know that you, my dearest, have seen, have smelled, have tasted, and have touched every last word.

Brothers and Sisters, this one is really going to blow your minds.  I repeat myself, as I so often do, “Blow everyone’s mind.”  My wise Mother once told me, “Son, read in between the lines!”  Mother, that’s what I’ve been doing for 34 years.  Yes…this gets heavy…heavier than a ten-ton truck.  My Dearest Brothers and Sisters, take these words…Words from a Disciple…The youngest of 12.  I’ve said all of this so you will understand that I LOVE YOU! One more thing before I go back to Greenville.  Game Over!

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The Basketball Plantation
The Ecclesiastes of Greenville lost soul #12 Sinners, alpha, Omega, Crucifixion, & the Kingdom of Christ

 

Game 7
The Bloods

Greenville Pictures in association with bang bang shoot ‘em up productions & Sunday drive-by Films.  12 Buck Shots: A Gangster Fairytale Starring Ann the olive oil gangster and Anthony the emerald green ragtop 67 Impala.

Bang! The movie begins with a panoramic shot of the sky, which is a pristine pretty blue with huge white clouds, which spell out Salvation.  The Camera zooms in slow motion.  It’s a perfectly focused shot of an emerald green 67 ragtop Impala.  It is the coldest 67 I have ever seen.  I open the door, jump in, I start it up, and it roars like a lion.  I look into the camera and I scream “It’s game time”!  As I ride I smile like a free slave and laugh, then said “Live and in color”. 

The cotton king classic from Klansville U.S.A., the Confederacy and the Union Battle for Banging Rights, for gang of the year presented at the Annual Gang Bangers convention and Awards Show.  The red team and the blue team black on black crime, Mayhem, and murder.

The Crips Vs. The Bloods the screen fades to black and the sound the Beethoven 5th Symphony booms it’s a shot through the barrel of a 12 gauge shotgun.  I am sitting in front of the Watts Towers in my emerald green 67 Ragtop Impala.  I turn the music down with my cell phone in hand.  I call my sister and I say “Hi Sharon.  How are Big Al, Lauren, David.”? “Everybody is great” and I replied, “That’s awesome!  I’m going to cut right to the chase.  It’s time Blood!” and she said, “Blood!  I will see you when you get to Linden Avenue.”

I turn my music off.  I drive through Watts to Jordan Down to 126th Street to Nord Street to McMillan Street–which I would like to forget, but I choose to remember—to Carlin Street to 69th/Long Beach Blvd to Harbor Street, to Myrtle Street, and finally, I get to Linden Avenue.  I walk into my mother’s home.  I first greet my mother with a hug and a kiss.  Then I hug and kiss Sharon.  I say “Are you ready?” and she says, “Let’s ride Blood.”  I toss her the keys; she picks up a triangle shape display case, which contained a flag, which was presented to her at our father’s funeral.
We walk out of our mother’s home and jump in the car.  She opens the display case and hidden under the flag was our father’s silver plated 32; with the pearly white handle, and the bullets—glass hallow tips filled with olive oil.

As she loaded the gun twelve times, tears the color of olive oil fall from her eyes like the airplanes crashing into the Twin Towers.  She handed me the gun and closed the display case, turned to her right, then sat the case on the back seat.  She turned one more time and now both of her hands rest on the steering wheel.  She takes a deep breath—12 times—while tears, the color of olive oil fall like airplanes crashing into the Twin Towers.  I hand her my white handkerchief.  She wipes her eyes, then she fires-up the car and turns her head in slow motion times 12 simultaneously, with her left hand letting the top down on my car.

As she adjusted the rear view mirror, she says “are you sure you want to do this blood?” I said the master has sent me to spread the word of the gospel to my brothers and sisters by any means necessary   she shakes her head and says o.k. I will help you, baby brother.  I would greatly appreciate it if you could tell me a fairytale.  I answered o.k. as we ride and do what real gangsters do, I said, “Sharon, check this picture out.”  The camera moves in a circular motion from a rear view to a front view.

As the camera slowly focuses and stops it’s a full screen shot of a slave.  He is barefoot and buck ass naked!  The word “Greenville” is carved in his chest with a blue rag around his right waist and a red rag around his left waist representing: love, harmony, and peace among all brothers and sisters of Greenville a.k.a. the United Negro Nation. 

As the camera sits focused the slave Crip walked in a perfect 360° circle, he stops!  and says the crips , the bloods , and  plenty of Gangster shit it’s a gangsters fairytale then the slave reached towards the heavens and said thank you oh mighty god for freeing and saving my wretched soul.

Yes brothers and sisters, it’s time for some gangsta shit and some pimp shit welcome to Slave State University I’m Dr. Greenville and this is Humanities course # 1212. In order to pass and survive this class, you will have to obey two rules. The first rule is: do not speak when I’m speaking. The second is do not be late, no exception. So all you athletes remember you are a student first and an athlete second. The first 12 weeks I will lecture on Pimpology (The Pirus/The Bloods 1-12, I dribble, I pass, I run, I crossover, I shoot, I slam dunk and the second 12 weeks I will lecture on Gangsta-ology – The Crips/The Cuzzins 1-12, 12 different Sundays, and 12 different sermons.  Okay, let’s get started with Pimpology Open your textbook to page 75 and read along as I lecture:

A pimp is standing on a street corner. He is wearing a blood red suit with blood red converse.  He is also known as Chuck Taylor the master of all pimps.  He runs his fingers from right to left on the left side of his face.

I make eye contact as I cross the street.  He says, “Hey young man, yes you with the basketball.”  “Yes sir”, as I approached him. He said, “Mrs. Smith/Green is your mother?”  I said “Yes she is.”  He said, “take this movie” and right before he handed me the movie he ran across the street to where 12 of his hoes were lined up, all crying and saying some Bozo the Clown mother fucker “strong armed us for all of our money.”

He stood there with the video in his hand shaking his head as he looked up to make eye contact with all of the hoes, he backhanded, and pimp slapped all 12 of them at once. He runs south, back to where I was standing and waiting and said “Sorry, I apologize for that 12 second interruption.”  He handed me the movie and said, “study the names and you will understand the game.”  As I walked away, dribbling with my left hand, while holding the videotape in my right hand, I read the blood red letters on the front of the case, which read:

PIMPOLOGY
 (The Pirus/Bloods 1-12)
“I dribble, I pass, I run, I cross-over, I shoot, I slam dunk”

PIMPOLOGY 1 – I dribble
 The youngest seed of the Third Disciple, I remember at Smitty’s funeral (my dad).  My thoughts are mama is mother and father.  She did not shed a tear.  It was time to say goodbye.  The second seed of the Third Disciple walked up to the casket and said, “Come on Smitty.  Get up.  Wake up.  Let’s go!”  I was thinking he’s dead.  He’s dead.  Let’s go Youngest Seed of the Third Disciple.

PIMPOLOGY 2 – I pass
 Why I don’t like Winnie the Pooh!  Now that’s some silly shit, huh?  I remember it like it was yesterday.  It was the Third Disciple’s going away party.  I had on white shoes, white pants, a white turtleneck and blue Winnie the Pooh jacket.  For some reason, I think that is why I don’t like Winnie the Pooh.

PIMPOLOGY 3 – I run
 Oldest seed of the Fourth Disciple, you remember what happened at the pike, my brother.  Take these words, the words from the 12th Disciple, the youngest of twelve.  Isaiah 50:7, it reads, “The Lord God will help me: therefore, I will not be disgraced”…I repeat, I will not be disgraced.

PIMPOLOGY 4 – I crossover
 I once heard someone say, “Tricks and marks, blessed their hearts, because without them a real player would therefore forever starve!”

PIMPOLOGY 5 – I shoot
 Are you of Atheist?  All others know this not to be true because you are but one personality of the disciples.  Remember these profound words, Nigga please, open your eyes and see the dawn of enlightenment is here for all of us.  So you make the choice, either stands with us, or not.  Let me sure some knowledge with you.  Only Despair would have FBI come to the Lamb’s House and search for drugs.  Only Despair will speak in such foul tone/language in the home of the Lamb.  Only Despair would sell his brothers into bondage for the love of money.  Oh yes, no Despair, that we all have to see and witness crucifixion.
Crucifixion:

1) The act of putting to death on a cross
2) The representation of Christ on the cross
3) Crucifying of Christ on Calvary

From the Twelfth Disciple to the Sixth Disciple, we all will see you at the crossroad, which could be any given day.

PIMPOLOGY 6 - I slam dunk
 Have you ever reminisced about an old boy or girl friend and it brings a smile to your face?  But then you asked yourself “What the fuck was I thinking about?”  Still brings a smile to your face, huh?

PIMPOLOGY 7 – I dribble
 Damn! I should have worn a condom.  Oh well.  You live and you learn.  In hindsight, I should have worn two.  Hindsight is a MOTHERFUCKA.
PIMPOLOGY 8 – I pass
 You’re my hero, the strongest person I’ve found.  It’s the little things that you do.  There are times when you stress me, but you’re always there when I need you.
  Love, the Oldest Seed of the 12th Disciple
  Merry Christmas 2001

PIMPOLOGY 9 – I run
 My Dad’s name is Michael Greenville.  He can draw a bird, horse, duck and a baby.  When I see his drawings I tell him, “Your drawings are beautiful!”  He says, “Thank you,” and he smiles at me.  My favorite picture is the bird picture.  It is a bluebird.  It looks like it is flying.  My dad is special because he is my Dad and I love him and he loves me.  He is the BEST.
  By the Oldest Seed of the 12th Disciple

PIMPOLOGY 10 – I crossover
 Many of us may think that Mother loved the 6th Disciple more than she loves the rest of us.  I used to think that, but I know this not to be true.  The sad truth about this is she loves all of us differently, but what we…excuse me…my thoughts are she doesn’t love him more than the rest of us.  She pities him more than the rest of us in the hope that someday he will be half the man his father was.  Well, Mother, I know that is a tough pill to swallow, but I know that most of us, if not all of us, believe these words that I write to be true.  My truth.  I Pity a Fool

PIMPOLOGY 11 – I shoot (BANG!)
 BITCH!  I will sell your soul.  I don’t give a
F U C K about you.  I don’t care whose mother you are!  Sad, but absolutely, positively, correct.  Think about it.

PIMPOLOGY 12 part 1 – I shoot (BANG!)
If God were your Father, you would love me, for I proceed forth and come from God.  Nor have I come of myself, but he sent me.

 Why do you not understand (Twelfth Disciple, My Thoughts—He understands, he just doesn’t care) my speech…because you are not able to listen to my words?

 You are of your father the Devil and the desires of your father you want to do.  He was a murderer from the beginning and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him.  When he speaks a lie, he speaks from his own resources, for he is a liar and the father of it.  But because I tell the truth, why do you not believe me?

 He who is of God hears God’s words, therefore you so not hear, because you are not of God.
JOHN 8:42-47

Pimpology 12 part 2 – I shoot (bang!)
 He’s that Nigga that hates himself so much he would do anything for money.  He would sell his brother into bondage.  In fact, he would sell his mother’s soul for the right price.  Make you feel sick, doesn’t it?  I know everyone else feels the same way.  Well, brothers and sisters, for as long as I can remember, we have lived through the cycle of despair.  Niggas step on the little people (mothers, brothers and sisters) to make a few pennies in the dope game.  Everyone knows what type of Niggas I’m talking about.  The type of Nigga who knows everything, but knows nothing!

Slam dunk
 The summer is always priceless for me because for as long as I can remember any and everyday Peyton does not see Lexi, she will ask, “When am I going to see my sister, Lexi?”  Not a day goes by that Peyton does not ask about her.

Lexi, Peyton and I are out at the pool.  Lexi and I are sitting and talking with our feet in the water, and Peyton is diving in over, and over, and she keeps repeating, “Daddy, look at me!”  Each and every time she dives I scream, “That’s awesome, Peyton,” with all my heart.

As I continue to talk to Lexi, she’s hit with the knowledge, and the insight of a 75 year old woman, Lexi got up, kissed my forehead and gave me a smile and said to me, will a face full of emotion, “Some way, some how, some day, everything will work itself out.”  Then she ran at full speed and dove in the pool.  As she surfaced to breathe, I screamed, “Lexi, that’s awesome,” full of hope, joy and optimism.

I felt like a million bucks…no, two million bucks.  No, it made me feel priceless.  After that I was breathless, and trying to recover.  She swam over to me and then she tightened the noose around my neck by saying, “Daddy, you have a beautiful smile, and your teeth are so beautiful.”  And I thought to myself, with a happy smile on my face, “The summers with Pam, Peyton, Lexi and I are priceless.”  Game Over!

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The Basketball Plantation
The Ecclesiastes of Greenville lost soul #12 Sinners, alpha, Omega, Crucifixion, & the Kingdom of Christ
Game 8
The Crips

Good morning class for some it’s been along 12 weeks and for others it’s been a short 12 weeks.  For those who did not do so well the first 12 weeks. I wish you luck on the next 12 weeks.  Welcome to Gangtsa-ology – The Crips/The Cuzzins 1-12, 12 sermons for 12 different Sundays o.k.  Let’s begin the course with a movie called Gangstamentary.  The picture comes into full focus you hear 12 voices, and the thunderous sound of 12 horses galloping.

“As I run from Master and the twelve Klansmen, I stop and make a 360 degree turn and come full circle.  I’m surrounded by twelve different white hoods, on white horses, and each one representing: a different spirit.

As I slowly rotate for the twelfth time counterclockwise, I see twelve different points of view, one from each of the white knights.  Master at that point opens my favorite book and twelve different letters of thought fall to the ground in numerical order, 1 through 12.
I read the words on the front of each letter.  I repeat the words 12 times each to myself:  “1) Wow; 2) Wow; 3) Wow; 4) 12 stop signs; 5) I.; 6) Proceed With Caution; 7) A Good Klan’s Man; Integrity; 9) Monopoly; 10) Bingo Was His Name O; 11) Mr. And Mrs. Jones; 12) Crips or Bloods.”  Class we are out of time.  Your assignment for next class is to read Gangtsa-ology – The Crips/The Cuzzins 1-12.  WOW!

 Have you ever had a conversation with someone and in your mind you’re thinking this muthafucka just doesn’t get it no matter what the subject is: drugs, family, friends, and politics.  No matter what the subject, the muthafucka just don’t get it.  The muthafucka that steps on family, friends, shit probably their own mama, that’s some messed up shit, but it’s true.

 The muthafucka that steps on everyone…honest, hard-working people to be Mr. Big Stuff…well, muthafucka, I have some bad news for you, Mr. Big Stuff a.k.a. coon – e -pie the Clown, because that’s exactly what you are…you’re a muthafuckin’ clown.  Yeah, coon-e-pie!  You just don’t get it.  Wow!

 
WOW!!
Wow! I’m a drug dealer.
I’m a baller.
I’m a pimp.
I’m a player.
I’m a trick.
I’m a mark.
I’m a clown.

Coon-e-pie the Muthafuckin’ Clown!

WOW!!!

 I had just returned to my mother’s home.  I’m feeling great.  It’s been an awesome morning.  I had been to visit my sister and my aunts.  I opened the door and who awaits me…it’s coon-e-pie the muthafuckin’ Clown.  I have my Bible in hand.

I will not listen to any madness on this day. Coon-e-pie the Clown opens his mouth, like always, being the Clown that he is, and says, “He’s a preacher.  He’s going to Bible school!”  Well, I’m no preacher and I wasn’t going to Bible school, but let me holler at yaw (me being that real Nigga).  Oh, I’m sorry.  Let me correct myself.  Excuse me.  Take these words, the words of a Disciple…the youngest of twelve:

I’m a man, an educated man, and one with an A.A., a B.A. and a Masters degree.  Understand these words, if it were not for Mother, I would probably…No, would have…beaten your punk ass!  You muthafuckin’ clown.  Let the truth be told, it’s sad when the only relationship with your brother is only because of your mother.

Hey, coon-e-pie the muthafuckin’ Clown.  What went through your mind when you realized you clowned yourself and wanted to fight your brother?  I know what went through your mind when you looked into my eyes…yeah, Nigga that look…the look I say confidently…but at the same time, I say it with a feeling of despair.  If you would strike your brother after he has come from the resting-place of your loved ones, with a Bible in hand, then you are not truly my brother.  I must repeat myself as I so often do, “If you would strike your brother after he has come from the resting-place of your loved ones, with a Bible in hand, then you are not truly my brother.”

Coon-e-pie, you are really and truly a muthafuckin clown.  My thoughts are you are not a God-fearing man.

Hey coon-e-pie, when are you going to get it?  You’re ___years old.  You know you need to stop clowning and sit your old ass down.  Coon-e-pie, you are one funny clown.  Sorry, did I say this was entitled WOW!!!  I meant to entitle it “Verbal Ass Whipping”.
-I truly do love you, Disciple who is numbered six.

12
STOP
SIGNS
I can only be a stop sign and a stop sign is all I can be.  No matter how hard I may try to be something else, I can only be a stop sign.  I am red and white.  I cannot be black and white, blue and white, brown and white, or all white.  It is not meant for me to be all white stop signs are red and white.  I have no choice but to be red and white.  I can only be a stop sign.

 
“I”
I give you the words of God.  John 2:7- 11.

Brethren, I write no new commandment to you, but an old commandment, which you have had from the beginning.  The old commandment is the word, which you have heard from the beginning.

Again, a new commandment I write to you, which things are true in him and in you, because the darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining.

He who says is in the light and hates his brother is in the darkness until now.

He who loves his brother abides in the light and there is no cause for stumbling him.

But he who hates his brother is in darkness, and walks in darkness, does not know where he is going, because the darkness has blinded his eyes.

Brothers, I write no new commandment to you, but an old commandment, which we have had from the beginning, which is ALPHA.

Proceed With Caution
 She’s whom I love.  She’s whom I respect.  She’s whom I honor.  Do not bring dishonor upon yourself.  I say Proceed with Caution.  My nearest and dearest disciple, I know that this is going to hurt, but I once said these are my thoughts.  Honor them.

 Eleventh Disciple, understand that I do understand that Love is Love.  I know that is heavier than a ten-ton truck.

Who am I?  I am your brother.  It is my honor to tell you to proceed with caution.  I know for a fact, 100% sure that you will be pissed off.  I know this.  Sad, but true.

And to the youngest son of the Second Disciple, please caution these words, Proceed with Caution.  Samuel 2:5 says, “For the Lord is the God of knowledge and by him, actions are weighed.”  I say that in order for you to understand this.  I am your brother who you love and respect.
I can’t believe I am saying this shit.  I know all of you are saying, “I don’t believe what I heard.”  I know it’s some Super fly shit.  I understand what made you use foul language.  Hold your tongue.

Yes, Mother.  I will not dishonor you because I am you.  I am your disciple.  I say that in order for you to understand this.  I am your brother who you love and respect.  Please honor these words from the Twelfth Disciple.  If you had any doubt, my love and allegiance to you is unwavering.  The point is, Love is Love and the Eleventh Disciple is just the Eleventh Disciple.  These are just my thoughts.

Damn, that’s cold, brutal, and shows too much emotion.  But nevertheless, it’s true.

A Good Klan’s Man
 I was at the car wash and one of the guys that worked there told me that it would take 40-45 minutes.  I thought, “Perfect.  I can walk across the street to Albertson’s and buy some baby back ribs.”

 As I waited in line, an old lady cut in front of me and I looked at the woman who was standing behind me and said, “She’s joking, right?”  I did not argue or say anything of foul tongue.  I felt anger, but the only thing I could feel was pity for her.  Let the truth be told, I wish that I were Hattie May at that point in time, because I would have beat her ass senseless without laying a hand on her.

 My thoughts are she is of the old south; maybe Greenville.  I smiled and thought to myself, “Forget it.”  The butcher witnessed what happened.  He said to me, “Why do you honor those who do not honor themselves?”  Why, because she brings dishonor upon herself.  There is no reason for me to do so and with that I ask him for what I wanted: five pounds of baby back ribs.

 The butcher, in all clothing of white (hat included)—which symbolizes the South, was very kind, which made me smile as he handed me the ribs wrapped in white paper.  After handing me the ribs, he winked his eye at me and said, “Have a great day, sir!”

As I paid for my things and walked back to the car wash, I looked at my receipt, which I so often do.  The butcher had only charged me 10 cents for the ribs.  As I drove home, I said to myself, “Oh, I get it.  He’s from Greenville and has forgotten about Mississippi.”  An act of kindness from a man dressed up like a Klansman.  Excuse me—an act of kindness—from a man who has lived among the Klan.  I repeat myself as I so often do, he’s from Greenville and he has forgotten about Mississippi.

INTEGRITY
 I was at a red light and a man was standing on the corner begging for money.
I said, “What do you need it for…some food?”
He said, “No.  I’m trying to buy myself a beer.  It’s hot as hell today!”

MONOPOLY
I say these words as a tribute to the Disciple of Sacrifice.

The Mother, the Wife, and The Sister: Words cannot explain the depth of my love, gratitude, and most of all, respect that I have for you.  You are of the sacrificial lamb.  You were chosen by God to be the Disciple of Sacrifice.  I say the Lord Jesus Christ could not have chosen a better Disciple of Sacrifice.

 
Sacrifice:

1) To make or offer a sacrifice
2) To forfeit (one thing) for another thing thought to be of greater value
3) To sell or give away at a loss

I understand that you did not sell your childhood, but my thoughts are you gave it away at no loss, because it had to be sacrificed.  I understand what you sacrificed as a child so that those who came before you, but most importantly, so those who came after you could have a happy, caring, and loving childhood.  You have always gone over and beyond the call of duty.  Take these words of a Disciple, the youngest of twelve.

You once said to me, “My brothers and my sisters are my people, but Fred and Brittany…now that’s my family.”  You are absolutely…positively…correct.

You made life so sweet.  I wrote a real sweet poem for you:
Charms Suckers
Sweet and Sour
Blow Pops
And your fruit flavors
Orange
Grape
Blueberry
Cherry
Apple
And
Lemon
Cracker Jacks
31 Flavors Ice Cream
Sees Candy
Katie Dee’s
I could go on and on…
Everything sweet in this world you taught me…Sacrifice!

One more thing before I go.  Life is a game and one must play to win.  Everyone has his or her own thoughts on what winning is.  My thoughts are you are the master of Monopoly.  You inspired me to a Masters degree.  I hope and pray that someday I can earn through sacrifice, a masters in the same field as you; a masters degree in the Game of Life.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot your favorite, potato chips.

Sacrifice, I did not use one curse word.  Hey, sacrifice, I can give it to my peoples, the educated way or the uneducated way.  By talking to you, and seeing the world the way you see it, I have the courage to not let my self-worth be compromised for 34 years (by nothing-ass Niggas that would imprison their own blood) and not even give it a second thought.

At this point, I want everyone to be thinking Psycho-Mycho is mad.  Make no mistake; I am enraged.  Yes, I am going to tell you why, but before I do I want to focus back on the word sacrifice.  Hey, Sacrifice, Monopoly is a cold muthafuckin’ game.  Right now, I know, I am 100% sure that you are laughing.  Right now I have no doubt.

Now let me tell you why I was enraged, because I let my self-worth be compromised for 34 years.  I know when enough is enough.  So I will stop.  On second thought, fuck them.  I’ll be cold, brutal, and I will show no emotion.  They cannot understand the pain and hurt I feel because reading and writing is fundamentals.  I know this to be a fact.

Yes, my brothers and sisters who I honor, Monopoly is a cold mother fucking game.  I know this to be a fact.  Why was I enraged?  Because I needed your help for some gangsta shit, invite all the Bloods and all the Crips.  Tell them that they can be bitches and whores alike for a Bar-B-Q.  Make sure that there is plenty of drinks and food, and tell them we want to see who the Monopoly champ is.  Once everyone is having a great time, I want to surprise everyone, but for this drive-by, I had to stop (what Nigga…oops…I mean, what number Disciple are you thinking of?).

Signs away and walk up on (what Nigga…oops…I repeat myself as I so often do…what number disciple are you thinking of) and when they look into my eyes, bang twelve shoot of monopoly.

1) Understanding
2) Guidance
3) Death
4) Patience
5) Sacrifice
6) Despair
7) Hope
8) Reconcile
9) Love
10) Strength
11) Honor
12) Courage

Sacrifice; fuck them if they can’t take a joke.  I tried not to be too harsh, but I told you I needed your help with some gangsta shit.

I know that some people are literally too dumb to read this.  Some of us just don’t get it.  Reading and writing are fundamental to Monopoly.  Let’s end this word-by with an Answer, and a Question.

A: Monopoly
Q: What do you have in between Alpha and Omega?

Bingo Was His Name O
 I had a horrible day ( I don’t remember the exact date).  Who cares?  I had come home to relax and my dog jumped on me, and I broke into a rage.  I hit and kicked him over and over.  I had been transformed into an animal dog and the saddest thing in the world is that I imagined it was my brother: my own flesh and blood.  Dog, I know how you feel.  Dog, when your own brother turned on you like a wild, vicious pit bull, and no matter how many times they bite you, you still deal with it.  For one fact and one fact only because of the love you have for your mother.  Love, honor and respect!  Please understand these words I write.

Ronnie, Blood, we don’t have to deal with that bullshit–my number one Nigga.  However them Niggas wanted to get their…domes twisted…oh well, there was once a time when I just got dressed.  Check the symbolism, my peoples.  I do not get dressed any more.  I get ready every muthafuckin’ day, because I realize that I deal with the uneducated.  Correction dog!  We deal with the uneducated.  Feel my pain, Brother Ronnie.  I know for a fact, 100% sure.  I would bet my life that you would ride with me.  Dog, I’m going to ride on these Niggas by myself.  I learned that from the coldest muthafuckin’ gangster in the world.

Who might that be?  Well, so I don’t hurt anyone’s feelings, I will make-up a name.  David Lee Scott, I will repeat myself as I so often do, David Lee Scott, is the coldest muthafuckin’ gangster in the world.  all disciples know this to be a fact.

The bottom line of this story is that we all know 100% sure that a life is a life and he (dog) is man’s best friend 4 SHE Z.  Once again, the bottom line, a life is a life.
-Sorry Bingo.

Mr. and Mrs. Jones
 My house!  I have many rooms that are filled with furniture that cost thousands and thousands of dollars.  You will let a Nigga from the street or off the street come to your home, but we will not allow my brothers and sisters to visit, but I will let Crips come and go freely and bring Bitches and Whores.

And
 I have a big garage that is filled with the finest of cars
And
I know, I know
And
I have a big front yard with lots of big trees and lots of green grass too!
And
I have a big, big back yard too!  I don’t know what more I have to have, then I wake up and remember when I had to step over Eleven Disciples to use the restroom and I say to myself, “That was my house.”  You can’t be serious Disciples?

One of you told me that you didn’t want some of your sisters and brothers included at your house.  Nigga please!  What kind of bullshit is that?  CUZZ if they’re not welcome…yeah, brothers, sisters included CUZZ…you know that’s some silly shit, but what’s even worse, we all believe that wrong is right and that right is wrong.  In order to let some dumb shit like that come out of your mouth CUZZ when we see ourselves in armor, choose your color,

I would like to have gray “All Gray”.  Red Blood Red is what I will see CUZZ that’s what it is CUZZ.  Blood.

Crip or blood
 I am a blood.  Yeah, that’s right, and I defy any of my brothers and sisters to tell me I cannot address them by this name.  Understand, clearly that I will say “Hello Blood.  How are you, Blood?”  Yeah, Blood, when was the last time you told your mother you Love her, Blood?  Or when was the last time you told your brothers, sisters included, that you love them?  Now that’s what I call real gangster shit…too hardcore for most.  I must confess that the words I write are of the uneducated man, which I have rearranged so that the educated man, one of A.A., B.A., and Masters Degree, will understand that he has the ability to read in between the lines.  I will tolerate it if it’s just, but if it’s not just, it will not be tolerated.  You get it, Blood?

I cannot claim anything else but Blood.

I cannot claim Crips, People, Folks, or Vice-Lord.  These names I cannot claim because I am Blood, the Blood of the Eleven Disciples who came before me.  None have come after me, and none will.  The last of a dying breed, I am of the Green/Smith legacy.  Understand that Blood is thicker than water.  That is a fact.

I come through you Disciples from our mother.  She is from Chicago by way of Greenville, so I have no choice but to claim Red Blood Red.  We are all Bloods.  We all know this to be true.  I must confess that the words I write are of the educated man, which I have rearranged so that the uneducated man, one of A.A., B.A., and Masters Degree, will understand that he has the ability to read between the lines.

The irony of it all is that we are truly Bloods but we act like Crips.  That sure is cold, Blood!

Yes! I’ve completed my Ph.D., and it’s graduation day. Son, please go into your room and try on your dreamy white cap and gown.  I want you to make sure that you’re looking priceless, my youngest lamb. Thank you, God; all twelve praises go out in your holy name.  My baby is graduating.  He has earned and mastered in the field of Anger, Hurt, and Pain Equals Love, with his Ph.D. from Slave State University.

I am class valedictorian.  I am mega cum laude.  As I walk cross the stage and receive a kiss, a hug, and my Ph.D. from Dr. Greenville, I say to myself, “An Associates; a Bachelors; a Masters; and a Ph.D.  Wow, what are the odds?”
12 million to one that a young lamb could take 12 million shots and refuse to die, but accepts death in order to live. Game Over!

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The Basketball Plantation
The Ecclesiastes of Greenville lost soul #12 Sinners, alpha, Omega, Crucifixion, & the Kingdom of Christ
Game 9 
Sherman Waters the Sunshine Man

The plantation’s Program manager II, The assistant deputy administrator, and the deputy chief administrator, are all dressed in white standing under the Judas tree, eating pickled pigs feet and drinking moonshine, and saying “We can not let Sherman Waters speak in court tomorrow.”  The duty chief administrator says I am 99.9% sure that a jury of our peers will let us go free but we have to be 100% sure that justice is served.  The slave deputy chief administrator said I’m having dinner at the judge’s house tonight.  I will ask the judge, who is my brother, to order Sherman Waters to write his testimony instead of allowing him to speak in court.  The slave duty chief administrator pulled his hood off and said justice will be served-we all know that slaves cannot read or write.  And they all laughed until their bellies ached.  Court’s now in session, all raise for the honorable Judge White Sheet.  The judge enters the court room and sits down and everyone else follows his lead.  He looks at Sherman Waters and said “Boy, do you swear to tell the truth the whole truth and nothing?”  “Yes your Honor.”  The judge started laughing out of control for exactly 12 seconds then he said “Boy, I want you to write your testimony down.  Here is a pen and some paper.”  I made eye contact with the judge and I said “are you sure you want me to write my testimony down?”  And he said “boy, if you get smart with me again I will throw your ass in jail for contempt you better start writing.”

On January 29th 2002, my wife called me at work “Sherman, I know the program manager is always trapping and cracking her whip but my car broke down and I called father, my mother, and my sister. I can’t catch up with anyone.”  “O.k. where are you I’ll be right there.”  After following the chain of command per the plantation I went to my slave quarters to get my car keys so I could go get my wife. As I walked out the door the slave coordinator ran over to me and said the big boss says you can’t leave the plantation to pick up your wife. I danced a jig and kicked a silent fit.  Then I said “Big boss, say what?”  So I hopped, skipped, and I jumped into the cotton field where I took 12 deep breathes and I drink a  bottle of water also known as (PCP) Phencyclidine a general anesthetic that has become a major drug of abuse because it’s potent psychological and behavioral effects.  Introduced in the 1950’s as a relatively nontoxic animal anesthetic, PCP has harsh side effect that makes it unsuitable for anesthesia in humans within a few years, however, illegal PCP was sold as a substitute and alternative for such hallucinogen’s as Lysergic acid Diethylamide (LSD), Mescaline , and Tetrahydrocannaibinol (THC). Customary uses of other hallucinogens usually did not like the severe psychological effects of PCP; it became popular among teenagers in the 1970’s however, under such street names as “Angel Dust”, “Hog”, “Sherman” and “Water”.  It has profound effects on thinking, time perception, sense of reality, and mood; dreamlike state, euphoric or depressed moods and bizarre perceptual experience are reported.

Negative aspects of PCP ingestion include disorientation, confusion, anxiety, irritability, paranoid states, and dangerously violent behavior. Hostility and belligerence can remain long after the drug is no longer measurable in the blood.

Chronic users may also experience depression or a schizophrenic like state that can last for months after discontinuation. Death can result, as can acute effects such as depression of breathing and disturbed heart function. PCP abuse continued in the 1980’s, 1990, and it continues to be a drug of choice  in the 2000’s and it remains a very serious public health problem.

Then I got dressed I put on a sunshine-yellow suit and a white derby with a 12 inch purple feather protruding from the left side of the hat. I walk out of the cotton fields right, left, right, left, like a proud young soldier.  I march up to and stopped and saluted my superior officer and said “Permission to speak.”  “Permission granted Private Sherman Waters.”  I thought to myself, be-be- be-itch! What do mean I can’t go and pick up my wife?  That’s right you black ass porch monkey, I am the big boss nigga, take your punk ass back out to the plantation and get your spook-ass in the cotton fields and make me some money before I fire your ass.  Fuck you and your wife.  Now get you grits and gravy eating ass back to the cotton fields.

After being cursed like I was a worthless run away slave who has been captured and returned to his rightful owner and given 12 brutal leashes on his back after finishing my work I ran to my slave quarters where I immediately picked up a pen and paper and wrote.  As I read over what I had wrote I thought, you sound like a mad man who is about to lose control.  At that point I took 12 deep breathes and sat my pen and paper down.  Then I stood up and stripped down to my soul.  As I washed away my anger, hurt, and pain, I stood in the shower and let the water rinse and cleanse my soul, I said to myself, tomorrow will bring a new day.  I will wake up, get ready, and I will pray and thank god for another glorious day on his earth.  Then I will put on my stars and stripes uniform and get ready for the tip off.  That’s right it’s time for game 9.  The slave who shot his master 12 times with memorandum entitled, Retaliatory Actions-Gangsta Shit in the Work Place.  At 4:30 a.m., my body signals that it’s time to get up, I pray and then I put my uniform on and I pick up my kryptonite green clip case, which contains my gun