Okay …So I’m playing the cut of the dimly lit smoky diner in D.C. on Georgia Ave. The place was sparsely furnished with about 6 booths 8 bars stools a pool table….oh and the stage with one red light one yellow light and one blue light glowing on a dropped curtain that seemed to call out to ya like a bug zapper, or maybe it was just calling me. The mic stood about half staff on behalf of the poets …singers … comics and other talented people who had fallen victim to the short end of an unmerciful crowd of on lookers. The house band “Scrabbled Eggs” was making a night that was hot enough to cook bacon …just a lil bit toastier with the set they were putting on. Even I tho the place didn’t have many places to take a load off …it was jam packed in here tonight.

So … I played that cut … you know just chilling with a Hank and a glass of Yack ….you know trying to get my mind right … watching my process less queens dance till the blue majic in their heads made the roots of their scalps glisten under the light …and plotted my move ….

The mc checked the mic and the crowd broke out of dancing poses to turn to look at the brother … he addressed them as “Fine People” and went about his chore of introducing the victim of the night. He then reminded them of the rules and called out a name.

As the band played “Chicken Grease” by D Angelo a husky fellow in the corner of the room arose and began to walk toward the stage downing his glass of brownish liquid he tapped the mic. The audience seem almost ready to give their sign of disapproval before he even got a word out of his mouth.
Then …….he began …..

I was born to you on a sunbeam gleam
as pure as Ivory
In the rain forest lying beside the Ebola virus
On a bed made of papyrus
cause with every bad theirs a good made beside it
Protected with stick-a-brides bushes that cut like barbed wires ..
With webs spun by spiders sewn to shut my eyelids ..
Then in the talons
I was snatched up ..In a hawks clutches ..
and moved to the Everest mountain crests cause evil was up to something ..
and when spider webs fell it was knowledge that cut ‘em
and the light that hit ‘em begged for mercy when my iris touched it
The wisdom my father authored held my aim steady
and when things changed it was obvious that ignorance is deadly ..
but still NIGGERS ain’t ready ... to OVERstand
most obvious in talks with ya mans ..
ya deacon ..
Teachers
or ya preacher
and they can give you all the Theological reasons
and tell you bout Jesus ..
but without knowledge of self how you gonna know when “he’s” trying to reach ya…

… and as I recited my last words and replaced the mic …the mc met me half stage and greeted me with a hardy hand shake …a half hug and whispered good show man as the crowd continued to applaud he raised the mic stand back to full staff and repeated the name LOESIN …Amazin ….as he walked back to his in the corner, of the sparsely furnished club on Georgia Ave. in Northwest D.C.