Market Value
Next time you visit The City That Never Sleeps
Beyond the Jags, Rolls Royces, SUVs and Jeeps
See the skyscrapers, condos, and tokens of excess
The expensive real estate that’s all meant to impress
Symbols of success, the hustling on the concrete
Charging Bull, eager lenders of legal tender, Wall Street
The financial foundation of the nation of the Home of the Brave
Stands on the graves of 15,000 to 20,000 African slaves
The stock market was built off the back of the slave market
They’re under you when your cabbie decides to park it
Near Wall, Water, and Pearl Streets, when you’re around
Recognize you’re walking on a sacred burial ground
From slave traders to day traders, from jingling bells to ringing bells
Stock whips to stocks, bondage to bonds
Stockpile people to stockbreed, a new industry was spawned
Human stock was exchanged, even kids, most certainly
NYSE should stand for ‘Neath, Youth Sleep Eternally
And the truth cuts deep like a double-edged saber
This country got rich off centuries of free labor
African slaves built Wall Street, and I mean literally
As waves of them arrived in the states litorally
This history isn’t taught in American school curicula
Find the hidden truth, hear it loud in your auricula
Two-step on the lies, cakewalk on the bullshit
Cha-cha slide to the love, Hallelujah in the pulpit
So next time you do Broadway to see some new quartet
Next time you splurge on Fifth Ave & acquire more debt
Respect the lives lost; make sure that you come correct
Now you’ve got 2 reasons in NYC to say “Never forget.”
the walk home
Sun’s low. The day’s so slow. Cool breeze.
Decide to walk around some to stretch my knees.
Mask on. Not my first choice ’cause that was unattainable.
Had to go with cloth since N95’s ain’t available.
Unless I could buy that access like the famous and the rich
Saw gloves on the sidewalk that somebody ditched
Going on 10 weeks stuck in this sole apartment.
Cramped like registrations in glove compartments.
Thank God I’ve a job that promotes working remotely.
Adapting to this new way of life that we’ve learned rotely
This walk feels different but I know nothing’s changed.
Should I walk far? Nah, I’ll keep it in range.
Everyone’s got on masks; we’re daywalkers like Blade
No party in sight but it looks like a masquerade
Usually ’round this time of year, you’d probably find
Concerts at The Rey, tour buses, lights, long lines
Security at the entrance pattin’ ’em down
Graduates, all smiles in their caps and gowns
Jazz at the museum, trombones to harmonicas
As the 720 snakes thru, DTLA to Santa Monica
Coffee shops closed; I’m going to need some caffeine
I don’t sleep well, sheeeeit, you know my routine
Early bird, night owl; no occasion’s too small
These days I hang out on Hangouts and Zoom calls
Seeing Wilshire so quiet is pretty freaky to me
The only sound’s the rustling of garbage and debris
Time’s standing still and I’m skirting on the edges
Feeling like Will Smith in Times Square in I Am Legend
A jogger bumps into me, no “sorry” or contact of irises
No mask either, guess he’s gonna outrun these viruses
All of these stores have been closed since March
Flattening the curve may flatten the Golden Arch
Can’t watch the news anymore, only bleak projections
Have to catch my breath when I see the rising infections
I have family and friends on the front lines of this war
In hospitals, ambulances, and grocery stores
They’re all doing God’s work so we all support them
And presidential parades and flyovers do nothing for them
Sirens blare on the regular, chasing these speed demons
Decreased traffic has increased cars flipped over on the cement
Saw an accident the other day just down Olympic
Human minds sometimes are excruciatingly simplistic
Haven’t seen a protester yet, saying their pain is systemic
And that their freedom trumps the public health in pandemics
When her life depended on it, Anne Frank stayed inside for 2 years
3 weeks in, we’re screaming about pedicures, BBQs, & barber shears
We’ve got to manage this whine like a sommelier
Bourbon waiting for me back at the atelier
The neighborhood cheers for essential workers at 8pm
Showing our appreciation is the least we can do for them
Hand claps, pots, pans, air horns, cymbals, acapellas
Probably the only time I’ll get to blow my blue vuvuzela
Sun’s set. The night’s here. Nocturnal chill to the bone.
Time to cease this roam and head on back home.
Make sure my mask’s secure ’cause it’s trying to slide
Through the streets of LA, my mind flies and glides
But uncertainty rules the night as the day steps aside
As I wonder how we’ll be on the other side.
You and the Curious Being of Being You
You like being that dude.
You like being that chick.
You like fooling around in school.
You think underachieving is cool.
You like ridiculing those aiming higher
You like being disengaged, not being aware
You like turning your back on your people.
You like going for self, ignoring everyone else.
You like disrespecting elders w/ knowledge to share.
You like poisoning those who look like you.
You like hating yourself and those w/ your hue.
You like dipping out on your responsibilities.
You like not caring or giving a fuck about your neighbor.
You like walking past those in need on the street.
You see your brother needs help, you say, “That ain’t me.”
You ask a sister for aid, treating her good faith as a freebie
You walk through doors and lock them all behind you.
You like climbing ladders, kicking away those beside you
You like crossing bridges, burning them like Nazi brigades
You like doing dumb shit, immune to embarrassment
You like willful ignorance, no respect for history or sacrifice
You like being disruptive more than productive.
You like falling and failing more than rising and raising
You like excuses; the less accountability, the better
You like all lives mattering more than your own
You ain’t down for the cause; you like putting the cause down
You like to take, take, take when others give freely
You like to flirt with death while others need you to live
You like ignoring that your forebearers fought, marched, were burned, hanged from trees, shot, mutilated, disenfranchised, discriminated against, and went through hell just so you could have at least a glimpse of heaven.
“Nah, tho”
You like being “that dude.”
You like being “that chick.”
You like being “that nigga.”
You like being “that bitch.”
You like being no help at all.
You like having low expectations; you like thinking you don’t deserve more
Or can be more. Or can achieve more.
But you see
the problem is
They like it, too.
Don’t be a stereotype.
Be better than they say you are.
Be better than you think you are.
Levitate, my gods.
Elevate.
I RUN HOT 2
It’s getting hot again. Time for the latest edition of I Run Hot. Catch the first installment here: https://inqthink.com/2013/05/31/i-run-hot/
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Walking at a leisurely pace, I sweat on my way to the gym.
My beads of sweat have beads of sweat.
Wore a white suit to wedding once. Everyone was supposed to wear white. The suit later became a color that Crayola and Pantone can only describe as “underarm yellow-tinged.”
In the event that the sun burns out in the next thousand years or so, I am strongly being considered as a backup energy source for the galaxy.
I walked to Chik-Fil-A and nearly passed out. Got so mad, started fanning myself with that spicy chicken sandwich. It eventually disintegrated. Fucked up my lunch.
Whenever I’m in a car, within 5 minutes, windows on my side fog up. This happens across all seasons. No joke here. This is real.
Nashville Hot Chicken has to put on gloves to handle me.
Ten seconds after I jump in the pool, there’s a lot of steam and it looks like a pot that’s boiled all of the water out.
I don’t shake hands in interviews or meetings. Not unless they specifically want wet hands.
Anytime I visit a park, it becomes a water park.
I can hold a fish out of water in my hands and it’ll live forever.
Kiss me and drown.
Solved the California drought crisis by sticking my finger in the ground.
The lyric “Don’t go chasing waterfalls” in TLC’s “Waterfalls” is widely misunderstood. It’s actually a cautionary tale to not run after me for any reason. If you do, it will only cause me to run faster, which will make me sweat more, which will produce stronger currents behind me, which will cause you to get caught up in the riptide. Sorry.
Planes can now fly continuously for days at a time…as long as my oily forehead’s onboard to fuel them.
Me + any fan = water sprinkler
I can flick a bead of sweat off my fingertips with 99% accuracy at speeds up to 117 mph.
Unlike Thanos, when I snap my fingers, half of sentient life gets drenched.
Think Ink|Thinq Inq 