A La Boom Boom (knot a poem)

When the doves sing in the willow trees

Or when they croon with



As each day

Becomes dusk

Do you think they tweet about love?

I have my doubts…yet

Their sounds are sweet to the ear

And Lord knows you don’t have to try

To hear


God damn thing

That is whispered, murmured or mumbled

In your zip code

See if you can hear this…

My love for you is not a song

That for a spell



Then in a moment,


My love does not

Spill all over you

Like a vanity fair

With compliments,

Promises and

Flower petals.

I will not write

stanza after stanza

About your eyeballs

Or the sound of your voice

I won’t become fanatical with the length of your legs

Nor will I stir up hysteria with lines

About the contour of your hips,

The delicate breath,

The end of winter

Or the last time we danced.

I will not place upon the page

That which has been said

By all the other


Concerning love and its many traps

I will only say this,

I see your spirit


It is a flawless


The magic between you and I

Is that our spirits dwell together

And they have known one another



Ramon, Pablo y El Take Away Close

Ramon, Pablo and the Take Away Close
The Nighttime took a long stroll around Ramon’s home, wearing His deep blues and banging down the block in His heavy boots soaked in the evening tide. The Fog came in Her grey gowns pulling taffy and cotton candy strokes across the skyline. The darkness lingered around the conversations and observations holding flash light batteries and buckets of new leaves ready for the turning.
Two friends stand under the moon-glow smoking a joint of Chocolate Thai.
Ramon: That man that holds up the stars must be happy tonight.

Pablo: He mmmm mu must be
R: Relax my friend it’s only a way of speaking
P: I know man, fuck
R: Pablo, my good friend, we have had the same night for the last couple of years. We drink, we fight each other for fun and we philosophize about the ins and outs of life or else we go to the Roadium drive in and watch Do the Right Thing. 
That stutter can be easily cured. After all big boy, if you ain’t comfortable around me with that fuckin’ uh-uh ummmm bullshit you ain’t never gonna get a chick to kick it with your bumbling punk ass.

P: Hey Ramonito when I want your advice I’ll p-p-pull my dick out your mouth

R: Funny…some dudes got jokes…but not you fat man.
P: Fuck that I been tryin’ to get at Monica forever and every time I get ready to spit at her I freeze up and start stuttering. You… you know?
R: What? Monica? That’s Big Grumpy’s girl!
P: I don’t give a fuck…we have a uh uh um
R: A connection?
P: Yeah man
R: (pulling hard on the joint) That is someone else’s girl, you know we don’t get down like that in the hood. Shit, (smoke bellowing from his nose and wafting under the streetlight) even if he left that bitch you would be stupid to try to get at her. That’s the rules homey; we don’t do our thing like the white folks, everybody ends up fucking everybody…we got class in our hood.
P: Yeah but she is a tender one though.
R: True, but I think it might be the fact that she is taken.
P: Huh?
R: Yeah you know muthafuckas always want what they know they can’t have. That lust has been around since forever.

Ramon continued.
R: Man has been killing man over things that do not belong to him for years bro and another man’s woman has been the blue plate special of jealousy since the beginning of time.

P: What the fuck? You never talk like that in front of the boys!
R: Like what?
P: L… L… Like that all vocab and poetry and shit.
R: I don’t think they would get it and I have been keepin this poetry and writing thing to myself for so many years and each year it gets harder to talk about it with the homies because of what they might think.
P: Fuck them bruh. How muh muh much ass have you broke down just on that Spanish Poetry?
R: I never kiss and tell Pablo…but your point is made muthafucka. However the homies are simple and rock headed. They would all die for both of us and loyalty is rare in this world. So I keep my homies ignorant to my art.
P: That sounds cool I guess.
R: Yeah man like I was saying, humans want what they can’t have. In the world of sales they call it the “take away” close. The first part and possibly the most integral part of the take away is the desire for the…uh…the uh…desired…uh desire of uh…(clearly stoned)
P: What the dude wants right?
R: Well said Pablo… They have to want it for the take away to be effective, if they don’t want it then they won’t do shit. For example a man wants to buy something, he wants a comic book, lets say, but the price is too high so he begins to negotiate.
Ramon passes the joint to Pablo 

R: So, my friend, the buyer begins to negotiate and the buyer never offers more than the asking price, well almost never, in this case let’s say the comic is $45
P: Damn! What comic is that?
R: I don’t fuckin know…it’s just an example…
P: (takes a long drink of his beer) I ain’t never heard of no comic book cost 45$
R: Just shut the fuck up and let me bless you with some of this game. So dude offers $30…and now you see Pablo the take away has begun!
P: What is?
R: The take away!!
P: So he offers 10 bucks less and the t-t-take away has begun?
R: Yeah cuzz $15 less and yes the take away has begun.
P: Wait …what?
P: Hey man, don’t start that shit! I will f-f-fu-fu fuck you up!
R: F ff fuck! Ha! Yeah Pablo you feel good? Get em up and get tapped up!
Pablo gets up out of his chair and his beer bottle clinks against the concrete.
P: Don’t let me get ahold of you flacoso!
R: Okay okay chill P! chill…chill P lemme finish
P: Yeah…but im f-f-fuckin pissed (sits back down)
R: Ok Listen cuzz… homeboy that runs the comic book shop takes the book off the counter and puts it back in the case!
P: Why the fuck?
R: Like I said (Ramon takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky) just listen my man, I love you bruh…just hush
P: Cool ok ok
R: He TAKES the item away from the potential buyer!! Now the poor bastard wants it even more!!!
P: Got it
R: So the uh….uh (clearly stuck and shaking his head)….umm…shit!
P: Dude that wants the comic…
R: Indeed, sorry my man that Thai has got ahold of me…
P: Cool
R: So the buyer ups his offer to $40!
P: Right! ………What?
R: Now you see Pablo the hook is lodged in the mouth.
P: Hook? What the fuck hook?
Ramon stopped speaking for a spell, and, as his Uncle taught him, began to contemplate the moon.
P: What? Hey man! You ain’t stuck are you?
P: Hey man …Ramon!
Ramon shook himself free from the short-lived bliss.
R: Hey..P man OK… Do you want some if this before I sack it up?
P: What?
R: This Thai weed
P: Yeah yeah um So wh what you gonna ? umm whats up you gonna hook me up?
R: 100 a quarter?
P: Awww come on bruh…
R: This is my money my man plus I smoke you out always…
P: Too much!
R: Cool, let me go put this up while I’m still halfway normal.
Ramon disappeared for a few minutes and left Pablo alone in the eye of the moon’s flashlight.
R: Ok yeah man so dude is thinking that he ain’t never gonna get that comic book and the owner hasn’t said a word since he put the book back.
P: Right
R: So whatchu think happens?
P: Dude leaves?
R: Hell NO!! He ends up paying the $45!! Because he wants what he can’t have! Like I said the world has been chasing this lust around for thousands of years man. Just like you think you have a connection with Monica but it’s really because that’s another man’s lady…you fell me right?
P: mmmm…ok so dude really want the book but he don’t like the ticket
R: Yes sir……hey dogg I gots to go!! Fools are blessin the pager!
P: OK holmes..but real talk though let m-m-me get that Thai

R: Its 100 a q!

P: FUCK IT Ramon
R: So you want this or not crip? I got to coast!
P: Yeah f-f-fuck it here you go bruh (hands Ramon 5 20 dollar bills)
R: Cool I gotchu and I’m gonna throw love on that! You know you just proved my point right??
P: Man…I don’t know just get me that good thang we been smoking!!
Ramon: I love you cuzz…

The sky is black now and Ramon walks out into the streetlight smiling counting his money.
R: The take away close is the shit!!!
(Random street cats talking shit and drinking in the background….)

“I say we kill her” (musing between a jealous guy and his manhood)

by D Medina for Cold Medina the album….
(Sung to the tune of “Cry me a River” by Justin Timberlake

You’ve been my friend
Since I was ten
You only know all the ways that I’ve loved you.
I’ll be your friend
Until the end
Betcha didn’t know who she be smashing now. Whoa!!

You don’t need to say
What we did
I was there in latex I hid!
Now that bitch done left
You and me
And you can’t see
But damn I feel bad about it

She told me she loved me
But you still beat me, all alone
Now she said she feed me
If you could keep me
On the bone
We should have refused
Now I’m all bruised
From some other dime
That bitch is alive and it’s her time
To die!

I say we kill her
I say you kill her
I say you kill her
Let’s say we kill her 

You know that they some girls are better left undead
You know I’m goin kill you bitch
No matter what they said 
(Don’t act like you don’t know it)
All of this rope that I’m holding
Be wrapped around your head
(Wrapped around your head)
I could have fucked all your friends 
And you would not have known it
(You tramp!)

You don’t need to say
What we did
I was there in latex I hid!
Now that bitch done left
You and me
And you can’t see
Don’t it make you sad about it?

I say we kill her
I say you kill her
I say you kill her
Let’s say we kill her 

Ode to the first Smith…


I remember when

it grabbed my ear,

turned it upside down

underneath that winded loft

in the middle of a harvest moon.


I herded my salvation,

garnered my reason

and found my way.


It was my Uncle’s tap,


tap tap tap

and the Smith Corona

wrapped around the paper flesh

that wooed me.

The faint smell of ink

began it’s swing shift

in my ole’ factories

as I peeped my messy head

above the horizon

of the last

loft step.



watched quietly

as my uncle hunched over

that typewriter desk,

humming to himself

out of key,

scratching against the paper grain

tapping tap tap


until his world faded away.



With lash and eyeball

I was stuck

on a ladder

as the moon glow



the tiny



his balding plot

that held the secret

to the story,


in the folds of his brain.


It was my road to Damascus,

I would no longer

kick against

my fate.

It was the day

everything changed

and the night

I have kept secret

from all the other nights.


The mind’s river

swelled and                          bu s te d,

too fast for thought or intervention,

spilled the smallest seed of mustard

and dog


licked clean the snout and rifleman.

Rugged in Persian rain

and complaints,

the fantastic tongue

that speaks loyalty and sugar coats shame,

became mine.

The wide open mouth

that curses and gives blessings,

thee spring

that gives both saltwater to drown in,

fresh water for the driest tooth,

A baptismal water

for a young believer

to be buried in

and rise up in

the garden of

rock and rose.

The voice of a nation,

the screams of a whore.

Orders of French fries,

orders to kill,

orders for peace

And apple



Words that make



in love,


that push men

to kill

in the name of love.

A pot of sounds

blended and spoiled in the sun,

grammar for the stars

nailed to the

door on a note.

All of these were under the spell of the tap tap tap.


A Language lost in the garages

of Amerikkka

left in the wind of verbatim.

That incantation of the world’s words

infected my lonely brain

and sealed my soul salvation.

The same sounds that laid inside pop songs

and hid in the old woman’s pine,

The slang of the ghettos and jailhouses,

the dialect of lawyer and judge;

became an unending


for me and my unknown




It was that night my uncle left

the legs

of his loft chair


… I snuck in

and began





until I found



My old world began to fade away

and my secret





D.A. Medina

My precious Loon

I shall not fight the inner loon in my decaying carcass ,

I will not sedate him nor shall I clip his wings.

I will not burn

his freak flag

or silence



brass kettle

when its time for tea and good graces.

I shall not sit

with another shaven monkey

trying to talk it through

when the loon wants to do the Hustle

all over the moon dust

that has scattered

along the paved roads of my mind.
If I lose my loon,

if I force him to leave me

and I bend into the world,

whom will I be?

History: Race in Amerikkka Pt.2

How did the Bacon Rebellion affect social order in Virginia?

The English Elitists in Virginia had created a hierarchical of race and class structure which served the English well and furthered their economic goals. The Bacon Rebellion had the essential elements of a rebellion; a large and angry lower class who were well armed, a sense of unity amongst people from varied backgrounds and color, a common enemy and an inspired leader.

The rebels, fueled by anger and desperation, burned Jamestown to the ground and forced Governor William Berkeley to flee by ship. As a result, wealthy landowners saw that the social order would never serve them as they intended if there where white laborers intermingled amongst the blacks. After the Bacon Rebellion the planters along with the English decided to use Africans exclusively for their slave labor and denied the Africans to bear arms or the right to assemble in order to prevent subsequent insurrections.

Ultimately, The Bacon Rebellion created deeper more defined tiers in the social order in Virginia and throughout the colonies adopting a labor force based on caste.



History: Race In Amerikkka

Why did the Puritans of the 1600s view the Native Americans as “Devils”?


The root of the Puritan viewpoint was the fact that the Puritans came to America to practice their faith system and believed that their voyage and subsequent colonization was God’s will. It was this philosophy that led the Puritan to believe that if the Puritans are with God and His plan, anything and anyone that stood in their way must be in league with the Devil and his demonic ways. When they arrived in Massachusetts, their so called Promised Land, the Native Americans were already showing signs of loss in their population die to unseen pathogens and their lack of immunity against English disease. The Puritans erroneously viewed this as a sign from God, leaving science in the wind of ignorance. Since the ways of the Native American were different from the Puritan they were viewed as barbaric and demonic, subsequently the Native American himself became the manifestation of the Devil. The fact of the matter was that the Native American had been living in peace and prosperity for many moons. They, unlike the Puritan, believed in a synergistic view of the land, where equality between man and his environment were essential to survival and growth.