Just Jabari

infatuated with the fated…baited by the hated. my thoughts go on the slated…then reach out to the weighted

Big Bills

My brother’s keeper?

Slicker than a preacher

Deeper than a bruise

Dues I paid

Nights I prayed

Trade him for nothin’ though

Stress and fear is the rent we owe

Taken for granted

Mortal seeds have been planted

Candid convos consistently slanted

Stranded fate tight in escrow

Pocket change for your soul

Keep big bills for the reaper

The Good Son

Minced words lead to unspoken verbs…

Clear dictation of the expressed once forsaken,

felicitous articulation is now my sincere obligation.

Clever phrases were gimmicks meant to amaze her -

Real G’s don smooth veneer,

facile masks more appalling than they appear.

Maternal lessons expose the hood,

chivalry lines the pedigree – patrilineal pride disguises the good.

A real man places focus on his woman,

with sentimental compassion and spirited devotion.

To listen is the emphasis,

admiration the genesis.

Fairness is the good struggle,

not sharpness of the tongue.

Longevity in fidelity,

today I’m the good son.

My Solemn Vow…

Listen to my heart, but take heed of my thoughts

Love myself, but adore my family

Disregard negativity - embrace my enemy

Finish what was started, utilize what was gifted


The night brings stars and with each moon my dreams get more vivid. Never sleeping instead the mind hustle keeps me committed. Turn the page as I open the door – rage is for the simple mind. Try love from the core – embrace your shadow and pull him from behind.

Ode to A.I.

Entourage? You gotta pay for that

Blood money dries up quick

…but the leeches still need their fix.

You was the man though,

So where the homies at?


Growth on my brain,

a necessary element of the development.

Switchin’ to the slow lane,

my exit is approachin’ at any moment.

Not from life – but from the absence of it,

to be chemically dependent seemed much more fitting.

Of course I’m just kidding -

But really though…

Organized inactivities were my only habit.

I swear – not because I’m cussin’,

but because I can hear my mother fussin’

From the window – or was it the door…

It doesn’t matter but she had trust in -

My abilities as a man,

until her voice was no longer callin’

Far from grace I was fallin’

That perspective was so cancerous…

The same condition that brought silence to my guidance.

Taken from THE pedestal,

along with my potential

To face these responsibilities,

until that lil’ angel brought me to my knees.

You thought I wasn’t listening,

but your voice has never been more deafening – breathless


Conceit marks the path of the wicked – forever’s a long time to be caught up in it.
Illuminated conspiracy theories making me weary..
Still dreaming for amnesia,
another dawn and my eyes are still bleary.
Extreme mental strain,
but the cap is still fitted.
Everyday struggle is just part of the grind…
Visualizing the sun rising gives me intense peace of mind.
Annoyingly insistent on following the path of the scripted…
The beat you can’t hear gives me peace like a ballad;
the rhythm to dance and forgive…
Courage speeds the tempo,
this song was never written.
But neither was yours…just live.

Flight of the Sparrow

Broken wings a gift from the divine,

captive of the inspired mind – I remain confined.

Quiet refusal to wither comes from the interior…

Battles strengthen the armor, save pity for the inferior.

Born to fly but forced to improvise,

No time to criticize – my eyes stay on the prize.

The skies full of the remarkable,

my place is secure among the exceptional.

Then came the understanding,

that my feet have never landed.

Never mimic the path of the Swallow…

The sparrow flies solo,

with strength of a lion – myself is who I follow.

These wings were never broken,

but carefully fashioned with precision.

Flawless for this path I chose,

soaring like an eagle – determined as a rose.

*written for a very special person – you know who you are

Jimmy Hustle

Everyday struggle – it sharpened the peripheral.

Survival is for the canny, too clever for the insolent.

Hunger pains were the only refrain,

high speed chasin’ – decelerated time I was facin’.

Focused on the affluent – conscious of the innocent,

conviction-less – the conscience was mindless because of it.

Ten steps ahead of ‘em with surgical precision,

this optical illusion gave me x-ray vision.

I categorically deny this lie you see with your eyes…

An honest life is worth more than anything I ever stole…

But the board don’t wanna hear this version of my demise…

so I’ll keep playing the role while you deny my parole.


Daily admissions confessed to this affliction,

atonement for my priors before the premature conviction.

Fabricated happiness the felony,

can’t understand for the life of me -

Sacrifice precious sanity so you could live comfortably?

Wake up my G! – ain’t NOTHING in this life free.

Served the time and discovered the rhyme,

regained wisdom but she made off with my progeny.

Ignored by the ignorant,

their too young to feel the brunt of it.

Enough of the bitchin’,

I’m on something different.

The pen is my sword and intellect my adrenalin,

originality my ambition – everything is for them.


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