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Act of contRiTion

(selected excerpts)


Sacrificing arrest over appropriation, the personal for the public, I take my culture, cans and spirit to the material world and raise consciousness. If only it were so easy.
Strangely, I must answer my calling at night. It does not pay to educate during business hours. It's close to midnight as I voyage through the chaotic backstreets of Amerika in silence and solitude. With my high-top tennis, rolled-up pants, bomber jacket and uncombed hair, I search for a place between my/your, ours/theirs, us/them world. It won't be easy. I am at war. Destroying and creating, causing conflicts, overcoming and transcending.
... ... ...
In my need for expression I will produce consistently, in our exigency to understand I will elevate and enlighten, and in our journey for truth, beauty and progress, I will communicate with actions.
Just like my forefathers had to cross borders, so do I. I know they didn't make it all the way, since I still cover new terrain, Now, however, its artistic borders . . . cultural inequity. To be on the cutting edge of the avant garde is to be on the margins of the mainstream, and I am swimming against the tide.
... ... ...
Back to the backstreets. While many have fled from here, I continue to work and dream here. I have never seen success as leaving the 'hood, but elucidating the cryptic, redirecting the Crips. It's still quite, except for the pounding of my heart. It reminds me of praying in church, waiting for repentance, when I've committed no sin. No choir music here, just the howling sirens, sirens, sirens and Sirens.
At the darkest moment, comes the light . . . and it is close to midnight.

-- faith

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