Home » Poems » James Lewis » The Art of Storytelling Part 2

The Art of Storytelling Part 2

Things are all slow motion like I'm Neo in the grid, 
just layin here and thinkin back to when I was a kid,

with plasma gushin out my lid, my lashes flutter 
tight, my 16th birthday 2K1 seems like the other 
night.

My Uncle Sal, a won'drous pal, my father's brother 
sure, was something like a Dad since mine was 
killed when I was 4,

the hurt my mother dropped was unlike anything 
before, I didn't want to listen but I had to find out 
more.

It seems like Moms and Sal were more than pals 
when Pops was gone, without no contraception, 
Pops was sterile early on,

now 6 or 7 months of this I'm nothing short of 
shocked, cause Mom Dukes came up pregnant so 
she had to go tell Pops.

He died when I was young but it's just better still to 
say, that he was murdered; splurtered goin 'cross 
McCarter 'Way,

they never caught who did it, only clue, the car they 
drove, an '89 Ford Taurus painted black and sittin 
low.

My mom embraced the streets, but me I then 
embraced the heat, I ran with shady peeps I knew 
who played the game for keeps,

my Uncle and my Cousin Pop spread out to other 
blocks, with lawyers, cops and judges, had the city 
smothered; locked.

My specialty especially was dishin out that weight, I'd 
ride around with Nate dispensing hate and bakin 
cake,

we had our share to make and yet we always fought 
for more, we took the town like Marlo in The Wire's 
Baltimore.

My muscle Nate and I we held it down like Snoop 
and Chris, you give it or get got, there wasn't time for 
stupidness,

we revelled in the power dealing dope and coke 
provides, until that faithful day when buried secrets 
came to light.

This young'n by the name of Rich he banged and 
slang them bricks, for us he ran a corner off of 
Haynes Street in Da Bricks,

now homie was an alright sort just always late with 
it, til Uncle Sal got sick of it and told us 'hang that 
snitch! '

We scooped him up from Union out on East Route 
22, one Friday night the time was right to do just 
what we do,

he had some chickens cluckin at the Garden State 
Motel, he knew why we were there and said 'Let's 
play some show and tell.'

We rode him to this storage spot, no way that he 
could run, with Nate up on the gun there'd be 2 shots 
and it'd be done,

that's when Rich opened up a unit, sittin way in back, 
a Taurus Ford that sat real low, oh yeah, and painted 
black
it can't be that......

To Be Concluded

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