KEVIN and DAMIEN
“Yo, Damien, how you read Sledge?
Is he just about being a fool
Or do you think that his brain
Is twisted enough to find something
Cool in that lip and drip world he’s sliming In?”
“Sniff the hood, my man,” Damien said. “The bad with the
Good. Some guys are banking on their reach
Going for the stars, scoping on the great,
Some see they can’t reach and all they got is hate
To lift them from misery of the day and there’s
Nothing you can say if their eyes don’t see
The prize the way you do. That’s the hood, bro,
That’s the way it flows and it don’t make
No never mind if you find yourself
Off the glory ride and slipping with the tide
Like Sledge. Hate is what the man
Got and if it’s not boss he’s got to toss it
Anyway. This is a concrete Apple.”
“Damien, so are you saying
You’re ready to fly?
Cop some getaway like all the other sleek
Birds winging through distant trees with just
An occasional peek
Now and then and a slanted rap about
Old school memories?”
“Who knows, man?” Damien said, checking out a tall
Brother working on his gangster lean.
“You’re talking about
What tomorrow will bring, and what tune the hood will
Sing. You’re talking and I’m listening, but
There’s no clear message glistening on my Horizon.”
“Yo, you’re sliding deep but my brain is still
Creeping on the surface,” Kevin said. “Break it on
Down or push it on. It don’t make no never mind.”
“My moms was asking me to do the same layout
But that’s all played out when you don’t
Know which way the wind is blowing
Or which way you’re supposed to be going
My folks are laying lines on me like
They’ve written out the part and all
I got to do is get to a place called Start
And follow the road to fame and glory—
A PhD in mucho buckology
Two point five kids and a quick apology
To the starving folks in East Ain’tGotNothingVille
While I look down from Sugar Hill and tell
Myself how phat my program is.”
“Sounds righteous, my brother,
Best listen to your mother
Now what I need is for you to feed
Me the name of the female lead
Is the right chick a light chick?
Some straight-haired honey
With a little money and a skinny little nose
Pointing away from her toes?
Or could it really be a girl with some kink to her curl?
A midnight mama with some snap and some sway
Like that treetop sister ’cross the way
Walking like the Queen of the Avenue
Could she interest a lord like you?”
Damien looked, he had seen her before
He knew her name, but not much more
“Yeah, I see her,” he said. “She’s the quiet kind
I don’t know her game, or what’s in her mind.”
“And if you found her in your net,” Kevin asked,
“What then? Would you throw her back?
Or could she be a midday snack?”
“Yo, Kevin, you know I have a plan
And you know I have Roxanne. I’m not into
Fast foods or the easy line
Although I have to admit the lady’s
Fine as she needs to be but can
She satisfy the brain or the heart
I don’t know.”
“Damien, Main Man, that girl might not satisfy
Your brain or your heart,” Kevin said. “But, Lord knows,
There are parts of me that find her
Delightful. We should catch
Her and offer her our sweet company.”
“No,” Damien said. “She might be light, I haven’t
Spoken more than a word or two with her. But
She walks darkly, as if her mind weighs down
Her steps.
When we’ve spoken it was just puffs of air
Syllables that weren’t there
When we said them and left nothing
On the memory.
I don’t know what she thinks
Of if she thinks of anything so profound
That it would interest me, and I’m not a snob
But she’s a depth I have not sounded.
I wonder what a movie of her life would be
What images come to fill the screens
Of her mind?”
The BEAUTY
My head is filled with images as I stumble,
Heavy-footed through this endless day.
Terrible images of my mother’s
“Yo, Damien, how you read Sledge?
Is he just about being a fool
Or do you think that his brain
Is twisted enough to find something
Cool in that lip and drip world he’s sliming In?”
“Sniff the hood, my man,” Damien said. “The bad with the
Good. Some guys are banking on their reach
Going for the stars, scoping on the great,
Some see they can’t reach and all they got is hate
To lift them from misery of the day and there’s
Nothing you can say if their eyes don’t see
The prize the way you do. That’s the hood, bro,
That’s the way it flows and it don’t make
No never mind if you find yourself
Off the glory ride and slipping with the tide
Like Sledge. Hate is what the man
Got and if it’s not boss he’s got to toss it
Anyway. This is a concrete Apple.”
“Damien, so are you saying
You’re ready to fly?
Cop some getaway like all the other sleek
Birds winging through distant trees with just
An occasional peek
Now and then and a slanted rap about
Old school memories?”
“Who knows, man?” Damien said, checking out a tall
Brother working on his gangster lean.
“You’re talking about
What tomorrow will bring, and what tune the hood will
Sing. You’re talking and I’m listening, but
There’s no clear message glistening on my Horizon.”
“Yo, you’re sliding deep but my brain is still
Creeping on the surface,” Kevin said. “Break it on
Down or push it on. It don’t make no never mind.”
“My moms was asking me to do the same layout
But that’s all played out when you don’t
Know which way the wind is blowing
Or which way you’re supposed to be going
My folks are laying lines on me like
They’ve written out the part and all
I got to do is get to a place called Start
And follow the road to fame and glory—
A PhD in mucho buckology
Two point five kids and a quick apology
To the starving folks in East Ain’tGotNothingVille
While I look down from Sugar Hill and tell
Myself how phat my program is.”
“Sounds righteous, my brother,
Best listen to your mother
Now what I need is for you to feed
Me the name of the female lead
Is the right chick a light chick?
Some straight-haired honey
With a little money and a skinny little nose
Pointing away from her toes?
Or could it really be a girl with some kink to her curl?
A midnight mama with some snap and some sway
Like that treetop sister ’cross the way
Walking like the Queen of the Avenue
Could she interest a lord like you?”
Damien looked, he had seen her before
He knew her name, but not much more
“Yeah, I see her,” he said. “She’s the quiet kind
I don’t know her game, or what’s in her mind.”
“And if you found her in your net,” Kevin asked,
“What then? Would you throw her back?
Or could she be a midday snack?”
“Yo, Kevin, you know I have a plan
And you know I have Roxanne. I’m not into
Fast foods or the easy line
Although I have to admit the lady’s
Fine as she needs to be but can
She satisfy the brain or the heart
I don’t know.”
“Damien, Main Man, that girl might not satisfy
Your brain or your heart,” Kevin said. “But, Lord knows,
There are parts of me that find her
Delightful. We should catch
Her and offer her our sweet company.”
“No,” Damien said. “She might be light, I haven’t
Spoken more than a word or two with her. But
She walks darkly, as if her mind weighs down
Her steps.
When we’ve spoken it was just puffs of air
Syllables that weren’t there
When we said them and left nothing
On the memory.
I don’t know what she thinks
Of if she thinks of anything so profound
That it would interest me, and I’m not a snob
But she’s a depth I have not sounded.
I wonder what a movie of her life would be
What images come to fill the screens
Of her mind?”
The BEAUTY
My head is filled with images as I stumble,
Heavy-footed through this endless day.
Terrible images of my mother’s
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