The BEGINNING of my CLOSE

The amazing thing about a story or anything that you do is the fact that it so often reflects the people, the places, and the experiences that so mold us into who we are. This is no exception...

For the last two to three years I have created an album series that pumps, breathes, and exists among all the things I just named. It's called Dirtyfoot's. The albums in the series are as follows:

• LIVE @ Dirtyfoot's


• Dirtyfoot's @fter dark


• Dirtyfoot's @ last


• Dirtyfoot's: FIN@LE

As you can most undoubtedly see, Dirtyfoot's: FIN@LE will be the last one in the series. And like always, the people I know provide the influence for the songs, the stories, and the characters. Some of the people represented in verses in this album include my friends (Santos, Che), family (Mom, Clerona), and anyone else I so deem. Thank you all those who inspired what is to come.

Now on to business...


It can always be noticed that we as someone eles's child inherit or get certain similarities from our parents, whether it be personality or physical attributes; this song really deals with that.

A father looks at his daughter and sees too much of her mother in her, a woman he loved and thought her had gotten over. The result is this..."Nearly Mirrors"


Nearly Mirrors
Vegas-Nadra? Nadra? Nadi, we need to talk…

Nadra-What could we possibly have to talk about?

Vegas-Our relationship…we should be closer than this…we used to be closer than this…what happened?

Nadra-(looks at him) Please don’t act like you don’t know…

Vegas-(sighs, looks at her) I don’t…so please tell me, Nadra…

(In the throws of her explanation to her father she thinks back some years earlier when she had heard her parents in the heat of an argument. Their arguments and disagreements were nothing to get excited over in her thinking, it happened so often after all. But one particular exchange had caused the rift between father and daughter.)

Tara-Vegas, I’m not gonna be gone forever…a few years and I get breaks to come home in between. What more do you want?

Vegas-I want you to stay and be a mother to your child and stop chasing some model fantasies….that’s what I want.

Tara-(wrinkles face in disgust) Be a mother?!? You have the balls to tell me about being a parent when the most time YOU spend with Nadi is at meals? That’s funny. You act like you don’t want her…

Vegas-Like I said at the outset of this, I didn’t want you to keep her but you were so adamant about having my child that I caved…and in any case I’m forbidding you to leave.

Tara-Whatever…you feel how you want to feel. And as far as you telling, or forbidding, me from going, that’s not even a concern. I only asked to be polite…I told Nadi, Dana and Jonathan promised to help, along with my parents and E.J. You can continue looking past our daughter. I mean, that’s what you’re really mad about, right? (turns, walks away)

Vegas-Fine…leave.

Tara-Oh…one more thing. (takes off ring, throws it) I believe that is yours.

(Vegas was stricken silent in the past just as the Vegas of the present was at Nadra’s words; only in this instant did he realize exactly how much his daughter actually looked like Tara. When he finds his words again, they are shakily said but said all the same.)

Vegas-Nadi, when I said that, I…

Nadra-I know…you meant it. It’s okay. Auntie Dana, Uncle Jon, E.J., even Mommy has been here for me more than you have. And now, I’m a grown woman and you’re concerned about salvaging a relationship. (chuckles). A little late in the game for that, don’t you think? (turns, walks away)

Vegas-Where are you going?

Nadra-To Mr. Black’s house…Lucian’s coming home today.

(She exits her father’s house and leaves him alone with his thoughts. Foremost among
those thoughts is one that he had been thinking watching his child grow up into a
woman.)

Vegas-Another Tara Kelly if ever there was one… (sits down)

Verse One
Beloved eyes burn twice, hers like yours
Filled with disgust at life’s grandest fool
They emerald seem to pierce and do the same
The very likewise of ones once called beloved
In hatred oculars paint this into corners
Apologies seem worthless here in everything
Looking at progeny, trick of lights almost swear
That mother reflects, daughter nearly mirrors

Chorus
It's like looking in a mirror... but not

Repeat three times

Verse Two
Infatuated shapes boomerang so, built in same mold
Abused just the same by imbecilic motions
Each curve an homage to their genesis
That place is and evermore will be past betrothed
Such anger held in bodily perfection
Enough to quell any words put out to console
A child of mine looks to be illusion when eyes hang low
Almost looks like maternity maker, seed nearly mirrors

Chorus 4xs

Verse Three
Long desired fire burns again, ignite similar inferno
Set aside after a past stupidity returning to haunt
That something about her lives string in another
Born of us but beyond whatever contribution given
Disgust comes now from the passionate things
Love may have all but evaporated now
This daughter born from our becoming one confuses
Every time eyes glance, she nearly mirrors

Chorus 4xs

(Because he had no more energy, whether it be from thinking of Tara or arguing with Nadra, Vegas sits in the chair trying to numb pain with alcohol; after a while it works until he sees a picture of both Tara and Nadra standing with him on a nearby table. At that glance words, or one word, returns to him.)

Vegas-Damn. (throws glass)

Sound FX Sound of shattering glass

A Prophet?...maybe

Be honest...


Would you EVER take spiritual advice from a crack head? How about a heroin addict? A meth user?



Despite knowing within myself that God can work through anyone...


NOTE:...so far, it's been a stuttering murderer (Moses), a shepherd boy with slingshot (David), a rich man with terrible luck (Job), a Hebrew girl made queen (Esther), a tax collecter of all things (Matthew), and a fisherman, I believe (Peter)...


...I kinda doubt it sometimes. In all honesty it would be hard for me to have the Ten Commandments quoted at me by someone who may be coming down from high...I would imagine it would be that much harder for an atheist to readily hear that.


This is my attempt to explore that particular scenario.


Listen closely to the... Street Corner Prophet



Street Corner Prophet (Interlude)

Verse One
No God here to judge these pawns living
Not a chance at some redemption, at some forgiving
Live and die sans interference from a big brother being
Look into common senses as reference for seeing

(One God here, testament to life and death of age
Slide Genesis under eyes and gave servant page
Without a faith, foolish more than imbibing poisons as did
A joke told in outburst whispers, jester, as only one kids)

Verse Two
There be singular chuckle here-belief in absentee landlord
Fairy tales in elder tomes cannot work if there’s no faith to be restored
Poison pusher victims no prophet or no priest
Nothing more than a nuisance to say the least

(Absentee wording? Bow low and hope for bless
Cross sacrifice cost is humble service, no less
Condemned for the former man in face of alms heaven sent
Clock ticks away for the chance to repent)

Verse Three
A chance is taken in thinking upstairs neighbor cares for all and addicts
Dollars and gold against immortal soul that He is just a Benedict
So when ready to concede in nonexistent trinity, to live in reality
Drop supposed angelic study guide and take hold of destiny

(Lead horses to living waters even if those fail to quench thirst
No failure in this diatribe because hand fellowship reached out first
One day if the answers so sure give no solace but merely quit
Seek out a previous strung-out, a modern street corner prophet

Addict-No talking to some people, I guess… (looks around) well, I tried. (walks off)

(The reformed addict walks down the road and is nearly knocked over by the sheer speed of a elderly woman rolling by in her automobile. As fast as she is moving it is hard to notice things and she doesn’t notice anything until a dull but loud thud from the front of her car causes her to stop.)

Far Beyond Decent...INCEST!!

What would you consider a good reason to write?

A man always has two reasons for doing anything--a good reason and the real reason. -JP Morgan

Everything has a reason, no matter how intelligent it may be or however idiotic it may seem. For instance, I write and share a lot of my lyrics for the simple reason that a lot of the things I write are based in the reality that I live in. The events, the emotions, the thoughts, the people are major influences in my writing. If ever I have spoken to you about my writing, I am sure that I have told you this particualr statement:

If I've known you long enough or if I've talked to you for a second I can base a song on you. -Lucius Black

A few examples:
(NOTE: there are a lot more but I'm trying to get to a point here...)

CAM: "Infinite Gentleman" (ALBUM: Live @ Dirtyfoot's)
SANTOS: "Hustle For It" (ALBUM: Proving Ground)
MIYA: "Calypso His" (ALBUM: Dirtyfoot's @ last)
DRE: "Search Home" (ALBUM: Dirtyfoot's @fter dark)
LIS "This Called Healing" (ALBUM: Dirtyfoot's @fter dark)

All of that of that was said to say this-there are four main reasons I write:

• To comfort people


• To honor a friend, family member, etc.


• To get out emotions and/or thoughts


• To push the envelope, making people think

This particular is the last reason. Before you go any further, I want to warn you...

WARNING:

This song will make you rather uncomfortable, I say that having written it and being so uncomfortable that I wanted to stop writing. But I ask you to look past that to the manner in which the subject matter is covered and the eloquence of it. Enjoy...

Kiss, Never Tell

Verse One
Young longing, viewed pleasures
The sinful fantasy
Quake slightly in passion
Over incest standing broad
Once lips kiss forbidden
Turn back, not an option left
Feel pounding deep within
Wrong nothing if it feels right

Verse Two
(All conscience scream stopping
Other regions play continue themes
Her touch, known for so long
Takes on a different flame
Beloved for other reasons
A lover unexpected here
Sweet sweat comes to ease nerves now
Because caress offers no console)

Verse Three
Quick paces punctuate this
Fantastic chance to know the pain
Of loving someone who
Loves you but not in lusting realm
Taste necks now, feel heartbeat
Nervous of hands that do not belong
Just one hit of the new drug
Please them as addiction of skin

Verse Four
(Threshold carries of willing
To imperfect euphoric momentary
Yield likely to quell a sin burning
Thrusts and strokes again then again
Yells continue until all blurs
As walls perspire written in our adultery
Climax comes to end motions
Until the moment repeats again)

Mother-(breathless) You are soooo good at this…

Son-(breathless) Thank you, I guess…so are you. Well…I gotta go. (kisses her).

(Whether he was ashamed of what has become a regular practice or whether his words were true no one will truly know. Mother dearest lies spent, sleeping for an hour or two after which she will try to shower away the sin and change sheets as if that might help. Father, conspicuous by his absence, sits discussing religion with the most unlikely sort-a recovering meth addict. One can only wonder if the reformed can change the heart of an atheist.)

Who the FUCK thinks about bums pissing on muffins?

What would you consider a good reason to write?

A man always has two reasons for doing anything--a good reason and the real reason. -JP Morgan

Everything has a reason, no matter how intelligent it may be or however idiotic it may seem. For instance, I write and share a lot of my lyrics for the simple reason that a lot of the things I write are based in the reality that I live in. The events, the emotions, the thoughts, the people are major influences in my writing. If ever I have spoken to you about my writing, I am sure that I have told you this particualr statement:

If I've known you long enough or if I've talked to you for a second I can base a song on you. -Lucius Black

A few examples: (NOTE: there are a lot more but I'm trying to get to a point here...)

JASMINE: "Condemned By Excellence" (ALBUM: Proving Ground)

LA'MON: "Game Set" (ALBUM:Dirtyfoot's @ last )

CLERONA: "Long For The Storm" (ALBUM: Dirtyfoot's @ last)

TIARA: "Choosing The One" (ALBUM: Dirtyfoot's @ last)

VANESSA "Everlasting Smile" (ALBUM: Dirtyfoot's @ last)

All of that of that was said to say this-there are four main reasons I write:

To comfort people

To honor a friend, family member, etc.

To get out emotions and/or thoughts

To push the envelope, making people think

This is more geared towards the third reason. In this I use a discarded food item as a metaphor for something larger...

So are you to my thoughts as food to life

Or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground

And for the peace of you I hold such strife

As twix't a miser and his wealth is foun

`Now proud as an enjoyer, and ano

`Doubting the filching age will his treasure

Now counting best to be with you alone

Then bettered that the world may see my pleasure

Sometime all full with feasting on your sight

And by and by clean starved for a look

Possessing or pursuing no delight

Save what is had or must from you be took

Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day

Or gluttoning on all, or all away

Sonnet 75, William Shakespeare

Food For Thoughts

Verse One

Infinitesimal blink, discarded just the same as baked confections

What was vital was taken and left raw in no latex protections

Picked over and cast off into gutters, raggedy vagrant one

None valued seen in this noble vagabond but wayward son

Blinked and shook it off, disgusted by the similar fates

Golden rivers urinate, release streams to douse the hate

Chorus

Munch madnessIngest emotions caught

Take this in
A little food for thoughts

Repeat once

Male VO1

Who the fuck thinks about bums pissing on muffins?

Verse Two

Close behind was the victim of jeering taunts

Morose wonders as the ghosts of tears still haunts

Sees the treat treated like same pasts not yet gone

A kindred spirit in inanimate, pissed off and pissed on

Came back from the reverie, an tears cannot quit

Form mouth into ugly kisses and commenced to spit

Chorus 2xs

Male VO2

Who the fuck thinks about victims spitting on muffins?

Verse Three

Finally there was a nameless rabble running blindly against the wind

Group of disregarded if ever known hoping to merely transcend

We are the masses teeming to be heard above roar

Better yet the multitude screaming in unison for something more

Pushing on after pauses to run reckless in the sample

Underfoot is the solitaire pastry, lost in the trample

Chorus 2xs

Male VO3

Who the fuck thinks about masses trampling on muffins?

(And the breakfast treat is abandoned, much as people are in this life; as the time and the world passes by, it seems that attention is drawn to a woman riding home in her car. Upon her arrival she heads upstairs; passing the open bathroom, she sees her eighteen year old son standing in a towel. For reasons unbeknownst to herself strange and altogether new thoughts enter her mind...thoughts that many would consider terrible.)

Aria Autistic, Artistic

A thought...

The smaller things we do in this life...

...tend to become so great and something...

...BEAUTIFUL.

Examples of that include:

• Encouraging someone


• Offering help when possible


• Comforting someone in a time of need


• Standing strong in the face of a difficult road

A young father doing just that is a simple thing but if that includes the difficulty of rearing an autistic child, it may just be almost insurmountable. I guess in the end it all comes down to his ability to stand and do what no one else can do for him-be a father. I touch on that in the next piece your eyes are going to read..."The Stand"


The Stand

Verse One
Dealt hands too much for too young as such child
Runs against standard grain almost, nearly wild
Repeated actions, an art of the stand off born boy
Not some habit time can simple plan destroy
Hard road to build strength in youth
A spray of destiny and the power of truth
Disorder not a problem, mere measure of a man
Fall on bended knees and continue to stand

Chorus
Stand, man; love a miracle born
Be not the masses, be not torn
One life needs yours to be more than you
Stand now for it is the only thing to do

Verse Two
Woman left amid the stress of the caring arms
Failed reckless to see the miracle charms
The child with no words perfect but no worse
Mother saw not blessings in what all call curses
Fell to daddy dearest to shoulder the years
To push back the society of night bound in fears
A final back cannot turn but offer a hand
So that son and father together can stand

Chorus

Verse Three
Grew up because God makes no mistake
About the testing, trying path feet must take
Son slightly askew but more character to share
With someone made of frights but obliged to care
Naysayer belief in the failure of novice pitch
Refusing to falter, refusing to switch
Difficult though it may be, father is in demand
To be the only one able, willing to stand

Chorus

(They pass the father, smiling at his attention despite being so young. In the face of this scene a homeless vagrant passes and sees a half-eaten muffin. He lingers over it and…)

MIRROR, mirror

I'm going to whisper to you...softly in your ear...allow the words to ensnare your soul, capture the very breathing living in your chest....

Are you ready? I hope so...

Close your eyes...close them right now.

(Her eyes are closed and her entirety is focused on what is to come. Somewhere off in the backdrop of this scene a soft and familiar song plays, her clue as to what is to come next; the verse is lost on her but the chorus is what makes her lips form a slight, seductive smile.)

Baby I love making love in front of the mirror (In front of the mirror)

So that I can watch you enjoying me (Baby tonight)

Baby tonight let's try in front of the mirror (In front of the mirror)

Watching ourselves make love

Girl why don't we

Ne-Yo, "Mirror", album: "In My Own Words" (2006)

Imagine it...

Think on it...

See it...

Could you imagine being turned on by your naked reflection in the mirror?

Can you think on seeing your body and wanting to share it with your lover?

Could you see yourself making love in a mirror?

Based off what I can only assume was my homegirl's personal FANTASY, this one is a take on that very subject. It is my supreme pleasure to present to you..."Doubled, She". Enjoy.

Doubled, She

(She leaves the basement and, feeling a little unclean about the whole thing, decides to take a shower. It isn’t until she exits the shower that she notices her beautiful caramel skin in the mirror; like Narcissus she falls in love with her reflection. But instead of disappearing after pining away for that reflection, she finds herself thoroughly aroused, wanting nothing more than for someone to share it with her.)

Verse One

Modern waterfall caressed the soft caramels draped upon her outside

Moisture clinging to curves effortless as the skin and waters collide

Unclothed body perfect infinite display as looking glass takes in every aspect

Eyes and mirrors in tandem delight in the sensual felt respect

Bosom slowly rises and falls, quickening at excitement of reflection

Touches against pert nipples in anticipation, the adrenaline injection

Midriff bared and the hourglasses made of epidermis tingles just so

In turns the hips sway and willing hands refuse to release or let go

Fingers desire to tickle lower extremities, clitoris on verges of explosion

Inhibitions seem fleeting in temptations of self-stimulation bring boundaries corrosion

Lips lick in hunger, ravenous to be taken in full on intercourse ballet

Dance within temples longing for worship all night and well into day

Cellular dials connect to willing phallus able to quell infernos in design

Words exchange and confirmations abound, calls end to interrupt the line

Waiting patiently, the bathroom mirror waits alongside to play part in ecstasy

Reflect if it will illuminate being so deep inside of doubled she

Chorus

Reflect this motion in tandem climax

Caramel arousal as skin reacts

In the looking glass as moans abound free

Enjoying the strokes as mirrors the same see

Repeat once

Verse Two

Adonis modern lost in the peaceful resolve of repast without thought

Merely dreams, aspirations are the snare in which all conscious is caught

Pillow topped thrones for rests encircle the broad nature of shoulders to caress

Tight and steel in resolved, the body is more than description, more the bless

Chocolate dropped, melted over frame to drape perfectly without seam

More than near to endless fantasy is this god formed, an ebony dream

Vibrations and music interrupt the peaceful slumbers of wonderful myth

No motions to cease the alarms until maybe fourth or even fifth

That number on display is the digits counting the passion of a soul

Caramel recollections tantalize, regress the tendency to take control

Right now needed is the fix, the foreplay, afterwards, and satisfied conclude

Backwards longing for invasion and for one to forcefully intrude

Clothes simply a foolish necessity despite a disappearance upon arrival

Amid fumbling, strokes in positive positions, angles take desire’s survival

Speeding over to the place where time will mean nothing as passing hour be

Take her to the brink with looking glass watching from other sides, doubled she

Chorus 2xs

Verse Three

Mirror, mirror on the wall mimicking animalistic actions satisfying inherent desires

Lady love looks with eyes as wide as her parted legs embracing the moment and sights seen, perspires

Coitus between the two, igniting parallels of penetration and producing love dew

Refracted images of clenched teeth, scratched back and curled toes is in viewWith each time the length of he presses deeper between her thighs, levels rise

And watching body chemistries combine through a participant’s eyes

Has got miss so turned on by glass representations that muscular tendons are sore

Yielding mutually intensified experience of bliss, comparable to none before

For none before had satisfied this sole solicitors sensual sighs for instant gratification

Consequently, concurring that cute quickies are better than masturbation

Looking glass self sharing facial expression of pain and pressure and pleasure

Squeezing walls tight, inside and out, getting hers by any measure

Hesitant to blink, not wanting to miss a single instant

She tries to hold her climax but seems she can no longer resist it

He plows inside her like the last harvest of the year

Surrendering to climatic peaks she whispers in his ear…“Thank you”

Chorus 2xs

(The two reach climax together, their breathing ragged but pleased. Nine months pass to a grand gift, the greatest gift God could bestow. For six years this boy grew, living with the disorder. Mother couldn’t take it…but father had no choice but made the right one.)

The Jackque Handy Touche...

"...the all natural opiate."

Self love, the all natural opiate. -John Milton (played by Al Pacino), FILM: The Devil's Advocate, 1997

STOP!!

Admittedly, what you read next is not a reflection of what that quote meant...

Narcissism
Pride
Arrogant

A more apropos quote (or blurb rather) would be this:

Sexual stimulation, especially of one's own genitals (self masturbation), often to the point of orgasm

Self-improvement is masturbation. -Tyler Durden (played by Brad Pitt), FILM: Fight Club, 1999

When first asked to write this, I wanted to approach the subject of masturbation from a different perspective. Usually you hear ill of it in the religious sectors...

...some people are ashamed of it. The shame is a part I wanted to add to it for a contrast. In writing it I wanted to exalt it a little bit, almost like it was a nearly blessed ritual...



In the end it turned out rather well and here is the result..."Greatest Ever"...


Greatest Ever

Verse One
Tightly held, gripping the pulse of the moment in cuffed hand
Labored breathing drawn upon satisfaction easel as quietly planned
Smooth fluid motion, a focus on conclusions so right
Alone amongst the future mess amid the dimmed light
Sensitive the touch is, almost as if everything done is correct
Inspiration seems the photographs perused, upon which do movements reflect
Never felt this type of feeling present in the silences of solitaire
Perfect knowledge of how to do this, place the gripping there
Master of the tantric teasing, head and shoulders above all in this endeavor
Do it once more in the hidden repetition, absolutely the greatest ever

Verse Two
Viselike holding on to the completions with four and one unified
Give the focus almost indestructible that nothing else ever supplied
Euphoric recitation without words spoken, more guttural noise than anything
Patient to wait for the surprising that persistence will bring
So right it feels it feels just by being so wrong, wrong the opiate of the masses
The feeling of necessity will come but afterwards it passes
So does the man, spent, tired, longing to lay a body down rest
Gotten the desires off minds and the yelling off the chest
Kama sutra nearly, a mere sense of grasp is too clever
Close eyes and recollect the sounding joy; that was the greatest ever

Verse Three
Focuses upon nothing else, dare not look away from the unity here
Waiting for the overwhelming quench of a mouthless thirst to appear
Called happiness, called the quickest fix, called the time killer
All names true but now call this a Jackson similar as a thriller
Concentrations on nothing else, no notice for the opening of doors
Just a little longer, just a little bit more
Steps creak from the domiciled heavens as one such descends
Worry later about that, we have almost reached the ends
Eruptions cover and eyes roll back to the whites of forever
Caught in the act, ashamed; still…it was the greatest ever

Mother-What the hell are you doing down here? (looks, disgusted) Are you jacking off?

Son-Mom…it’s not what it looks like…

Mother-You’re down here playing with yourself? That is sick…

Son-(cries, ashamed) Get out of here, Mom…get out.

Mother-(walks back upstairs) Nasty bastard…


Until the next...
-Lucius Black, LBK