Equally opposite (Excerpts)-II

Loose Rubbers
Verse One Almost nervous and nearly near enough
Stripper shaking with a
Pocket full of loose rubbers
Fingers fiddle
A one noted sort of nigga
You know the type, right?
We see them with binoculars
Seeking out high notes into climax
Frequenting the lower tones
Hoping for the night to find them
Deep in the depths in some pleasure
Wanting her even when she scoffs words
Leaving the presence back to the pasts
No again and again
It was then but living now
Always love like an old rendition
Played slow, sweet but just memory
Made of body kisses long gone
No love made, no fucking strokes
You are the former inspiration
The words repeated without hearing
Until tears fallen are a rainstorm
But it’s shaken, brother
That’s the move, man?
Emotions are irrelevance
Simple trifles except for you
A lost gold in a silver society
Even if it hurts to admit it
Hitched up smiles, false faces figures
Another might enjoy pocketfuls
Of loose rubbers

Chorus Pocket full of horses
Of course it’s little more than a game
Don’t want your name
Please be thinking the same
All I want is you to understand
What will happen with the loose rubbers in my hands

Repeat once

Verse Two Downing drinks to settle nerves a bit
Uneasy with that
Pocket full of loose rubbers
Hands palm
Ones read in hopes sooth say differently
But it won’t, will it?
All the cognacs and mixed concoctions
Promise no passion, pain, or pleasure
May end up alone in the low lights
Five knuckles shuffling sticky
Instead of deep in the depths of warm pockets
Tight and moist enough for interest piqued
Still it seems presumptuous to ponder
Positions and contortions so earnestly
Lest you slip the objects of affectionate lust
A little mouse beforehand and before hands touch
A mickey to the bottom, got them
Only if you were that brave
So it’s just a dream to think on
Try to ply them with the wit and innuendo
All too blatant to be missed
No interest and no regards
Dying hopes two humidors puff on your cigar
So what’s next, friend?
All or nothing statements
You trying to fuck? Affronted but no subtlety
Slaps ensue and lonely islands grow
But no shame in it, you tried the best
Laughing it off, called them bitches for the troubles
Almost closing time, let’s get rid of
All these loose rubbers

Chorus 2xs

Verse Three Last call was the shouted announcement
What to do with this
Pocket full of loose rubbers
Look at her spread
Hoping quietly she spreads like peanut butter
She’s down, right?
Maybe that’s why the fingers caress
Places in the open and under the table
Like hush money dollars
Maybe I can make one holler out
Names, expletives, speaking in fabled tongues
Seems willing to a victim
Drained like vamps and bloodsuckers
So he just wants to fuck her ragged
It was urgent the way she pulled at the shirt
So now the two are leaving quickly
Crumpled Jacksons lie under a half full glass
Optimisms abound, hands all over ass, squeezing
Back to the bedroom, naked in seconds after sixty
Fumbling into front ones for prophylactics
Impatient mare seeks a stallion, rushes rides
“Fuck me already…”
If you ask me she’s ready, Alicia
So what’s the decision, brother?
Cast aside because he was thirsty
And she was wet so it all worked out
For an hour or two long dong deep down
Scratching pleased tattoos on the upper back
Next morning gone but something lingers
A tingling that says that maybe
You could have used a few loose rubbers

Chorus

Equally opposite (Excerpts)-I

St. Valentine’s Night (Interlude)

Half dead roses on the window seal
Wilted flowers so close to the day

Had a feeling that would catch your eye
Amazing how well you know me...
(He winks)

(She smiles)
This is for...St.Valentine
The sun sets, the stem drops
Almost without sounds or sights

It doesn't have sound?
Scarcely any…
Hmm.... oh, well

Leaves start to fall
Tumbling drowsy, elegantly
One by one, for every hour she's alone…
Until the pile up, a mess of remnants there

(The Equal Opposites were in rare form tonight. Their performances are always interesting to watch, even to that guy in the back who ponders over taking one of those listening ladies home with him tonight. He reaches in pocket and feels around. Inside he finds change, a few dollars of various denominations, and a few loose rubbers.)

A mistake...

We... she and I were defined by all these things...













...until it all broke.


I Couldn’t (Soulful Laments)
Female-Well, remember when I told you I had a confession a while ago?

Male-Yeah

Female-Can I tell you now?

Male-Sure

Female-Promise to have an open mind and continue talking to me? You promise? Baby?

Male-Yeah

Female-OK.

Male VO
He sat listening, not with bated breath but with the knowledge that he would feel a portion of the weight that had been weighing her down since he’d gone. It would be heavy, it would hurt. But he loved her so he was willing to be crushed verbally if it meant that it would heal the both of them emotionally.

Verse
Well, while you were away...
While we were unable to communicate
Back when I was just convinced that your omissions
Were deceptions and lies
When your letters never came
I
Just couldn't take
Not knowing anything
And...
Back toward the second
Decided that I was no longer yours
It started with simply yelling
When the DJ asked where
All the single ladies are tonight
Then I started referring to you as “the former”
To myself when I would think about you
Started saying it casually in conversation,
You were “the former” to new people I met
Began to feel better about not knowing anything about you
Or how to contact you
Convinced myself that none of those things mattered
Because you were “the former”
So when guys would approach me
Words told them I was single
There were numbers
There were messages
Even invites
Held the way I wanted you to hold me
Conversations that I wanted from your lips
Attention I wanted from you
But of the guys that I've engaged in conversation with...
The best talks I've ever had were
With you
After calling you “the former”
While dancing with a new fire
And talking to different men
Still couldn't let you go
Couldn't stop thinking of you
Wishing for you
Praying for you
Promoting you
Despite my anger
Mentioning your name
Whenever fresh, new creative talent is topic of daily gab
My friends still know who you are
Because I never let you go
Even when I tried
Can't shake you
Of all the men I talked to,
None of them came close to you...
And frankly, it upset me
Disgusted that I couldn't get you out of my system
Mad at the situation
Couldn't convince myself that you
Were not lying to me
Mad that I couldn't tell you all my secrets
Couldn't see my new piercings or
Come to church with me one Sunday
Or relax in the park
Angry at all the days missed
About everything
Enough was enough
Invited one of the guys over to my place
Made him dinner
Watched a movie
It was late
He was sleepy, lived at a distance
Asked him to stay the night
Didn't want him to get sleepy at the wheel
He slept on the couch
I slept in my room with the door closed
We never did anything
I couldn't
Hurt you that way
Couldn't disrespect us that way
Wouldn't reject myself that way
Couldn't think of giving my body to anyone else
I couldn't let it happen
So my confession is...
I wanted to let this go
So badly
Because I couldn't handle being
So emotionally tied to a person
It is too hard.
I didn't want the burden
So I tried to remove myself from it
And failed
When he left the next day, I just felt lonelier
Because no seemed to fill the void you left
Had to deal with that void until you came back
When you came back I still didn't have you
No calls
Not the same.
Been hurt
Still hurting
Thought I was abandoned.
Abandoned by you....
And by love
Still…
I couldn’t
Just…
Couldn’t

Male VO
It was hard to hear, no question. Yet he heard it and he understood and felt, if possible, worse. There is was, raw, open, and vulnerable. In her transparency he felt the same way. What they had died but from what she said and what he felt there may be a chance to be Lazarus, to come forth and live again. Surely everyone who cared about her would hate him as they hated the more terrible things. But even though it would cut into him like whips and tortures, he felt that if there was even a fraction of a chance to rebuild he’d be able to take whatever was thrown his way. So he took her soulful laments to heart and vowed to himself that, if she’d allow him, he’d try to spend the days, weeks, and months trying to prove himself as the same person she had fallen for.

Black, White, indifferent

In our lives at one time or another we all wear two mantles, one being good and the other evil. So in essence we are both kindness and cruelty. Often times we try to discard one when it gets too overwhelming not truly realizing a balance of the two is what defines us. -Lucius Black

And I figure it's true because even the nicest folks have moments of less than stellar moments. Conversely even the cruelest of us has a heart and a conscience. The balance here is important. Without it, you are in an internal struggle to find it.


Graymalkin

Verse One
By the rules of a thumb I don’t often wear white
And it might be simply because it dirties up too easily
A quiet reason however measly
Past Labor Day isn’t the matter of real discussion
So it’s no fussing, no cussing
Then again it could be that connotation
Of things I paint
Colored a little eggshell off
Since I ain’t a grand saint
There’s always an attempt to do right by everyone
Try as the big heart might to accommodate
Facilitate every direction pulled, every expectation
It tends to end, bend into devastation
Cracked hearts and broken perceptions
Fucked up without an ounce of protection
In recollection intent was questioned, confused a few
The things I do, maybe odd
God, I try to make it right for those who
For lovers, brothers, and sisters
And sometimes I resent her
For questioning mother of pearl colors here
When at night I always lent the ear
In the face of the flaws
Disregarded laws I pause
Thinking that the tint of Jesus robes don’t fit
Then I quit believing that goodness is in me
Even if it was put on repeat and repeat
More deceit bonded to my fleet feats
Mere feet from a pure T-shirt, looks nice and right
But I remember why I don’t wear white

Chorus
Neither black nor white
I’m the graymalkin, killer
The balances to the checks
A calm in the thriller
Neither white nor black
Just a graymalkin, brother
The good, the bad
Tend to offset one another

Verse Two
It was a surname that was acquired and draped
No real escape from its warmth and its cold
For a number of years it counted me in the hold
It was clutching so unyielding
Stealing every feeling
And the stigma made me wonder over
A type of decision
In the ebony remains of the day
Then too willing to be just another villain
It felt right there at the heights of wrongdoing
No one to worry about but solo son
Undone was all the belief, all the hype
Broken into shatters of no matters with one swipe
But then the kindness kills, the heart breathes
From the place it was threaded upon my sleeve
Just in a second I reconsider being a bastard
Even if mastered, struck a chord
Dear Lord, black wallpaper’s been plastered
Over friend and foe alike
It was disgusting for the conscience to strike
Or to even feel reticent enough over the night
When it had that much easier to curse the light
Other shoes drop
Than I stop at the top
To really examine the shroud of eternal nightfall
Then I stall to reinvent the evil in me
Second coming as it appears and appears
And I fear what I came to hear here
Many tears stain the mantle covering the frame
As I transcend the bad guy and the surname

Chorus

Verse Three
Then there was grayscale attire there in the middle
It was a third fiddle that was never considered notice
Drawn dead magnetic to this
The attraction was something so absolute
Couldn’t dilute, couldn’t refute
It exudes a little scent of both former lovers
This is what body trusts
The mundane midway still
Had enough of the evil to excite lusts
Still there was that goodness that bound me
The same from the first verse and second mentions
Intentions mingled to maybe build, imperfectly create
Pygmalion chisels art, a start towards level plates
Taking on the both easier than being just one single
Allowing the goods and the evils to mingle
There’s a tingle of honesty, lies too as well
Heavens and hells, finally at peace
For them, they, and us
Safety and the same so dangerous
In complete color of unassuming sort
A peaceful word, a retort
Flaws and the perfect flex
No pretext, merely context
Content that the collaborations is just right
The day is night with both aspects alive
So finally after over and over
I wear grays after the genes of Jean
I mean Phoenix and Marvel Girl again
Grayscale attire on a lane of Graymalkin

Chorus





Graymalkin
Attack of the Plastics
Lucius Black
L. Powell

The Death Of Ken

All you really hear about nowadays is dudes, especially African-American males, worried about their manhood being questioned. Too afraid to cry because of the childhood programming that a man isn't supposed to cry because that makes you a punk. Don't even get me started on that 'no homo' and 'pause' garbage. If you're not of the homosexual persuasion, there's no need to really clarify. But I digress...

I have ALWAYS believed that a man's experiences and the lessons he learns define his manhood as opposed to the facade of being a tough guy and not saying things that can be construed or flipped in something less than heterosexual. As far as men go, one man (although inanimate) is the true measure of a man-Ken.





I've always found a measure of strength in the way Ken is quietly contented in being little more than a set piece to the woman in his life. Granted, this isn't me bashing those go getters amongst the female constituency. Nope. This is just me in my overactive imagination just imagining that Ken grows tired of being brow beaten by all of Barbie's accomplishments with nothing to show for it but a gay ass cowboy outfit and a pink sweater. This is an extended metaphor for dudes who are like this. Hopefully I pulled it off well. Enjoy.


The Ken Dreads

Verse One
Coolest Kenny
I bet it’s torture
The anatomical lacking
When rather piranhas are snacking
On shafts to tops of the elevator
But no, it was a ruthless
Chop shop diva made the man a eunuch
Emasculated by the picture perfect dollhouse
And some pink Corvette waiting restlessly
But wait…that’s sold separately
No glory, no nuts
No Skipper, no sluts
Took the consonant at the end
Makes you woman dearest mommy, friend
Less of a total, constantly what friends said
More than anything, the thing that Ken dreads

Chorus
Broke dick dolls and dogs
In for a slow slog
The loss of manhood makes kindred
And what Ken dreads

Repeat once

Verse Two
The killer K
Tantamount to doom down
Missing the members
Three minus leaving cold Decembers
To the skin grafts where towers rested
Cut off Samson after Delilah
No remaining power is survivor
That beach house bullshit was taxing
Hoping to escape thumbs of the girl
So sick until upchuck of a Barbie world
Without teeth, without balls
A prisoner, trapped in walls
Silent because of what the other side shows
Opinions and will held back by brothers, GI Joes
Going after phallus, a fallacy many said
More than everything, the thing that Ken dreads

Chorus 2xs

Verse Three
It was Ken
Alone within the hurt
Of being raped, robbed of the wood
Yelled for the return, as if it could
A trophy taken from the nagging wars
And those danger brothers contribute guard
Leaving the plastered smiles scarred
Tennis sweaters and khaki short uniformed disgust
So when Barbie came home it was to a different tone
As broken Ken picked one last bone
Take care, take stones
Perfect dolly, left alone
Three GI Joes stand at attention, wordlessly
As the blonde haired icon stares helplessly
Seems balls and words resurrect, base to head
Now there is nothing that Ken really dreads

Chorus 2xs



The Ken Dreads
Attack of the Plastics
Lucius Black
L. Powell

The Connect, Pt. 3

The friend of a friend...

The term seems to be seen often, in dating circles or when in social situations of casual associations. There are times when you meet this "friend of a friend" and they are cast aside in memory almost as soon as you meet them. Other times that secondary friendship becomes something more substantial. For example, I met three or four people (there are more but we're focusing on a small number) through my partner Cam. At first thought the people that come to mind as enduring souls are Santos, Vanessa, Lauren, and Lieu. This installment of "The Connect" is about the last named Lieu Fatale.

I KNOW!! She's been a discussion point before.

By way of a disclaimer, this IS NOT me being a suck-up or pole jocking. It has always been a policy of mine to speak well of those who I see talent and greatness in. She happens to one of them. Period.






For a LONG time Lucius Black and Lieu Fatale have been threatening a collaboration. It's been discussed but somehow, given our own individual drives an/or hustles, it hasn't come into fruition as planned. Very recently it did. When asked to scribble a hook to one of my latest songs, milady Fatale rose to the challenge and then some. She has told me of three to four possibe hooks. THREE TO FOUR!! What you will be reading is the song supplemented with one of those hooks. As always, your opinion matters. Yerp.


Letters Home

Verse One
The lead to the paper when the number twos were nubs
“Are you ready”, a simple question with answers of shrugs
So unsure of the first steps when the words came
But there was the given name
Caught up in the list of progression all the same
Heavy worlds on the Atlas in the brand new scenario
Excitement and a fear a masked man will barely show
It was a thrill, nothing or but eclectic
Despite the nerves and the presses being hectic
The freedom of breathing was damn near electric
The boy was a prodigal after a million doting days
A three twice guy, three thrice girl making sixty-nine ways
Young and wild making nights louder in their coming of two meaning
A sin city for the new secrets and the bad hands leaning
It was well hidden from home and mother’s gleaning
(But still you’re lost in the limelight, right?)

Chorus
The strumpets and panderers whispering in the night
Hustling for souls promising riches & a good time
Everything to be wished for granted with one breath
The spoil of the streets nurturing on an ambitious breast
When the wells run dry and the young suffer a slow death
There is nothing left but smiles caged within rotting flesh

Verse Two
Ballpoint’s turn to trace the pages until the ink dries
Long ago the kid as formerly seen up and lies down, dies
Leaving an animal with the same face and less ambition
Unless the word counts for putting pretty lambs in position
For rounds of pounding without either looking to intermission
Libations became the new water, tipped with fire and change
Making Jekyll no longer Hyde if only to rearrange
Suffer the purpose in the face of weekly drunken KOs
Trading cunning linguists for a little fellatio
“Blow this horn, girl, like you were Horatio”
Embracing the prodigal tighter than lovers true
When being straight laced is the last thing to do
Only in the slow evenings without drink or joint
As the lines with the words anoint
Unafraid now of who the stories might disappoint
(But still a young illusion…who are you fooling?)

Chorus

Verse Three
Twelve pointed font when the format is right
Something so tired of the endless nights
Came about the time when fun got far too crazy
Right after the blood proved no ifs, ands, or maybe
When little Miss, that three thrice had that baby
Kicked the bad habits off to the waiting curb
Left behind the libations and no seasonings of the herb
Still the income got unfamiliar, fast money slows
And every previous looks a lot like plural no
Rolled highs once, now prepare for the lows
Here alone with nothing remaining of old design
Hard than new arithmetic to say it’s all fine
The three folds in the paper, perfectly clear
Except for a smudge that looks like tears
“Momma, I’m in hell here…”
(But still you’re learning …ain’t that right, burner)

Chorus

Verse Four
Mercifully back to the point pencil two
A little help is the remedy to see blind through
It was the planning once believed a curse
Keeping the wolves circling from making it worse
The only reason for the final verse
Some things once seen as done badly
Change here when the little girl calls boy Daddy
Amazing how decisions make boys grow up quick
Finally seeing a woman instead of some trick
Even in the despise on this child thoughts click
There was once a prodigal, once lost at the brink
Simple Peter, a savior cannot let beloved sink
A disjointed happy ending to a story
As a fable to guide and teach if only
“If you need my help, here I’ll be)
(But still we close the tome and finish these letters home)

Chorus



Letters Home
Lieu Fatale; Lucius Black
"Three Coke" Charles: The Dawn
C. Lamon; L. Powell

The Connect, Pt. 2

I am going to tell you something you should know already: Savannah, GA is a talented city. Now bear in mind I'm NOT saying that Savannah is the new Atlanta or anything like that. What I'm saying is that talent in Georgia is not strictly limited to the Atlanta area. Case in point, me. Another of the city's beacons of light...this guy.



I've known this man, J.L. Manning (or J.Laurent), since elementary school. A long time, really. We've gone to the same school since graduation. It struck me as odd that we both being engrossed in different aspects of music (in addition to our pursuits of higher education) that we hadn't worked on something together in that realm before. Here now we're doing just that. As we've discussed, he's producing my first mixtape (YERP!) and I'm really excited. There is also the plan to put out a track by the beginning of September so stay tuned. Our FIRST official collaboration is a song I penned recently from one of his beats. A wonderful track called "I'm Movin' On".

SHAMELESS PLUG: If you want to check out the production of J. Laurent, please stop whatever you're doing and hit up http://www.reverbnation.com/JLaurent. Yerp.

Here's a snippet of the lyrics:

Alleviate me from your thoughts so easily
Like the love days was sickness, coughs and measly
Mind games pushed up to a new mind frame
Of ascensions past you and the tensions of the same
Sort of nonsense, the explanation was like gibberish
Later on your body’s gonna scream for mine as last wish
For the way the curves met, lost within the deep sets
All you got for company now-bitter regret
Bets on the double down that I was still the willing clown
Dancing in the three rings sing
Stars falling down
Where your words left shards
Queen of the discards
This card was foolish enough
Threw in the trump card
I was thinking of a paradigm
Epiphany to the crime
Losing lust after your taste and your design
Maybe all the nights are gone
Maybe it’s a better dawn
Whatever the case may be, I’m moving on