Fire In The Sky

copyright © 2008 blackstarr

blackstarr52@gmail.com

At Da Club!! (part 2)

As you may recall, this past weekend, I was “At Da Club” for the first time in many a year. In fact, it was the first time that I went and actually stayed until closing in an even longer amount of time. I realized that the club scene is no longer for me, but, even with that, it was a pleasurable outing: the women were gorgeous (albeit most too young for me), the music was loud, and the drinks were not “through the roof” expensive. I guess that I haven’t really said anything because just how expensive can a glass of ginger ale get to be? What club doesn’t attract women half my age? Notice that I said the music was “loud”. I can’t say that it was good. I recognized about ten songs out of about seventy, and the DJ, to me, hadn’t the foggiest idea how to spin. I absolutely love “Get Me Bodied”, by Beyonce, especially the video re-mix which is almost twice as long as the original. However, the song sounded like it was being sung by Alvin and the Chipmunks. The DJ failed to play the music at the proper speed. I’m glad to say that I didn’t dance, as I would have been tired after only one song, as fast as they were being spun.

Part of the allure of going to a club, is what happens after closing: standing outside watching the procession, as the party-goers leave the club. OK – watchin’ the honeys strut! You can do that inside the club, but, once you get outside, the lighting is better and you can really get a bird’s eye view of some of the finest women to walk the face of the earth. But, not here!!! We were not standing at the front of the club for more than two minutes before Philadelphia’s Finest showed up. They didn’t just show up, they showed out!!!

The club sits on a small street off the main thoroughfare with enough room for parking on both sides of the street, and room for only one car to get by at a time (a two-way street). In this small, short city block, there were no less than ten (10) police cars, parked all over the place. The officers got out of the cars with blackjacks in hands, ready to bust heads. They walked from one side of the street to the other, up and down, telling everyone to “Walk or be arrested”. Did I or did I not just explain the dynamics and beauty of standing by the front of the club after closing? You talk about putting a damper on things . . . I understand the concept: disperse the crowd which would produce less trouble. Had we all decided as one unit to “diva gaze” and “ab search” (for the ladies who wait outside), then, we may have been in violation of creating a public gathering without a permit. However, each of us who decided to stay and watch did so of our own doing and not at the urging of others, so if anything was violated, it was our civil rights.

Let’s leave MORGAN’S and head downtown. Center city Philadelphia has more clubs “per capita” than any other section, of any other city that I’ve ever had the pleasure to visit. I kid you not. Picture the block of Second St., between Market St. and Chestnut St. – that’s one city block. There are, at least, five (5) clubs and seven (7) bars on that one street. Add to that, Market St. on both sides of Second St., and Chestnut St. on both sides of Second St. – that would be approximately twenty (20) more clubs and bars. Traffic on Second St. is southbound and folks turn off Market St. onto Second St. - non-stop – until about 1:00am. The police block the street at that time, allowing only cabs to get through. You can still walk down the street, but driving is not allowed.

Ninety-nine percent (99%) of the clubs downtown are not minority-owned. I’ll bet that you can see the difference in MORGAN’S and the down town clubs already, can’t you? Well, there are no policemen with blackjacks in hand, telling folks that they will be arrested if they do not move along. There are no squads of police cars littering the area. There is one lone patrol car blocking half of the street so that only the cabs can pass. That’s the extent of crowd control in the area of the down town clubs.

Again – I can see the benefit of telling the crowd to move along: less potential for trouble. What I can’t fathom is the disparity between the manner in which people are treated in different sections of the city. I have stood outside the clubs down town without ever hearing a policeman tell me to move along. I have never witnessed a bevy of police cars in that section of the city for basic crowd control.

Those clubs, down town, are not minority-owned.

Did I mention that MORGAN’S is Black-owned, and has been since it opened over twenty years ago?

It sits in the heart of a section that we call Germantown, a Black ghetto.

If there are 1000 guests on any given night, no less than 999 of the patrons are Black.

It’s a Black club!

I guess that if the clubs are Black, that calls for “Black jacks”. Peace.

copyright © 2008 blackstarr

blackstarr52@gmail.com

The Renaissance,The New Millennium, MORGAN'S, police brutality, racial discrimination

At Da Club!!

What you see in the image is an expandable-keyboard cellphone. It is the number one sight viewed by yours truly this past Saturday night. I hit the club! OMG!! Everybody and their mother had a cellphone either in their hand, pocketbook or attached to their waist. My intended view was a bevy of delectable honeys in my direct or peripheral vision. Trust me - there was a ton and a half of beautiful, vivacious women to be ogled, but, these phones seemed to play a key role in their lives. I say that as every other moment was littered by one person or another glancing down at their phone, or diligently typing a response at lightning-fast speeds.

I found myself standing at the end of the bar, perusing the room to see which young lady would attract my eye first. As I glanced down, I saw no less than three cellphones gracing the bar, each lit with a neon-blue backlight. Upon glancing up again, there were cellphones in the hands of nearly everybody seated or standing at the bar - except for yours truly, of course. Those who held their phones in their hands were busy reading the latest text-message or creating one of their own to send to a waiting friend. Years ago, nearly everyone was seen in public with a pager attached to the hip. Next came a cellphone attached to the ear, which was followed by a long white cord that we have come to know as earbuds. Just that quickly, that sight has been replaced by expandable-keyboard cellphones. I was truly amazed at the amount that I saw this past Saturday night.

Of course, by now, you're wondering what in the world was I doing "at da club". I have a friend who needed to be out and about without the lure of being around the "old gang" - a recovering addict. I thought that I would show him that a good time can be had without the use of drugs and alcohol. This is the second outing that we've had, the first inside a club. He seems to be getting the hang of it and it looks at though it may become a fairly regular thing. Fortunately for me, it will only be every other weekend that he is in town.

We went to a club called "Morgan's", which is a club that I had frequented years ago. Figuratively speaking, it was my second home. I had ventured into this particular club about four years ago, after not having been there for a very long time. I stayed all of ten (10) minutes before walking back out the door. Everyone in the club seemed young enough to be my child or grandchild! A year later, I entered Morgan's again, wondering why I had only stayed a few minutes the last time. Needless to say, it didn't take me long to remember. So, years later, there I was, again.

An extremely attractive woman, who was seated at the bar right beside me, leaned over, while pulling tickets from her pocketbook, and asked if I'd be interested in attending a fish-fry at another popular hot-spot. I kindly replied that I'd think about it. She smiled and returned to staring off into space, sipping on some bottled brew. I eyed her off and on from the corner of my eye, but, decided not to start conversation as it would lead to nowhere, what with the ages of the attendees. My buddy had found his way to the dancefloor and was shaking quite a tailfeather when I spotted him. As a few patrons to my left rose to leave, I quickly scrambled for a seat, in the corner, in the dark. I ordered another ginger ale, much to the dismay of the barmaid, and prepared to nurse it for the remainder of the night. Finally, my buddy left the dancefloor and headed for the bar for some liquid libations to cool himself down. He stopped to order at precisely the same spot from which I had recently moved - next to this vivacious woman with the tickets. She was now talking to her girlfriend who was seated next to her, but, when bud strolled up, the tickets came up for air, once again. He didn't buy a ticket but proceeded to chat with her for quite some time, buying them drinks as they both giggled (the two ladies, that is). Later, he tells me that this vivacious young lady that I so graciously and magnanimously passed up was (so he tells it) thirty-eight (38) years old - not the as-young-as-my-daughter vixen that I had earlier supposed.

There is a very real, very valid reason that I stay out of clubs these days. I can see myself engaged in a flirtacious evening with some fresh, young hottie and she decides to make a post of it on her My Space or Facebook page. I can see my name, description, and possible photo (what with today's gadgety phones) on her page. I also see my daughter's profile there in the "friends" section. OMG!!! Is there a rock that I can crawl under right now???!!! Years ago, I walked into Morgan's, and walked right back out because the crowd was way too young for me. I'm sorry - waaaaaaaay too young for me. Ironically, because of my humanitarian gesture taking place, I finally stayed this time, struck gold in a beautiful, vivacious vixen who was not as-young-as-my-daughter, and I passed on the opportunity. Sheez!!

We left the club about ten minutes before closing, and headed for the car. After realizing that the club was about to close, we decided to stand outside the front door with the rest of the crowd and watch the parade of exiting honeys (as if we weren't going to do it anyway). The procession was inudated by expandable-keyboard cellphones either being read or typed upon. They were making the "hook-up" or lying about why they couldn't make the "hook-up". Either way, it was all being executed by way of man's latest form of human contact and communication - the expandable-keyboard cellphone . . . at da club.

copyright © 2008 blackstarr

blackstarr52@gmail.com

The Renaissance, The New Millennium, The New Millennium, clubs, keyboards, cellphones, hotties, young, My Space, Facebook

Royal Ebony

brown eyes that shimmer

of varying hues

skin from yellow

to the darkest of blues

intense in demeanor

determination of steel

there's a need and a way

I have faith that we will

show the world

what we're capable of being

take our places on thrones

as Kings and Queens

a residual flicker lingers

from a once full flame

ebony royalty

will rise again!

© 2008 Missy

myeishaspeaks@gmail.com

The Renaissance, The New Millennium, Kings and Queens, Royal Ebony, Poetry, Unity

Wrap It Up (1)

I hate, hate, hate to jump on the bandwagon! Unfortunately, everybody seems to be doing it, these days. It has come to be expected upon reaching certain blog pages. If it’s good for the goose, then, it must very well be good for the gander. Therefore, I present the first of many “wrap-ups”. I’ll make it a bit different by not so much wrapping up the events of the last few days, but, rather, simply adding a few thoughts to what has happened recently. OK – fine!! I’m jumping on the bandwagon!! There – I said it.

Impeachment – Like most of the country, I am all for the impeachment of G Dubya. If ever there was a person to whom I did not take a liking, it has been old G Dubya. Before we impeach Mr. Dubya, I think that we need to impeach someone else first – but quickly. That would be Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi. She has, in no uncertain terms, decided that there will be no impeachment of G Dubya – at least not until after the general election in November. Rep. Kucinich took the time and effort to present as many facts as could be garnered, presented his impeachment motion, and Ms Pelosi and the remainder of the House, including those who voted in favor of the motion, sent it to a committee that is known for “killing off” a bill, motion, or idea. We can question why we elect these people into office, thinking that they will do our bidding. A wiser question is “Why do we continue to allow them to remain in office, if they are not doing our bidding?”

Discrimination – Colt 45 is at it again. I don’t mean the gun manufacturers – I’m speaking of the other African-American killer, the other producers of weapons of mass destruction – the malt liquor company. In Philly, as may be the same elsewhere in the U.S., we have a ton of murals throughout the city, depicting historic eras, celebrities, politicians, and just “plain old folk”. The murals were designed as a two-fold venture – to stop the senseless graffiti which had plagued our city throughout the years, and to bring forth education through the huge renderings. One of my favorites is the two- or three-story depiction of Julius “Dr. J” Erving. It is so detailed that it actually looks more like a photograph than a painting, and one that constitutes a spitting image of the man. I consider myself to be “up” on my Black history, but, I have come to find that I learn something from nearly every mural that I come across.

Now that Colt 45 has decided to add their two-cents into the game, I have learned something from their mural, as well. The company has no qualms about selling a product that is not only counter-productive to society, but, also dangerous to the body, mind, and soul of a human being. They have plastered a huge mural on the wall of the well-traveled Girard Avenue, depicting graffiti-type characters wielding Colt 45 cans and bottles high in the air. Several community groups have already spoken out against this discriminatory practice, and, there is no doubt in my mind that the mural will soon be removed. The message on the mural? “The Tales Of Colt45.com . . . works every time”. In smaller print it reads “Yo, enjoy our frosty malt beverages responsibly”. Walk through any suburban community and you will be hard-pressed to find one small ad depicting the benefits of drinking malt liquor, much less a larger-than-life mural on every other billboard. The sale of malt liquor is designated as a ghetto product and is marketed there and there only. I said that I have also learned from this mural, just as I have the other positive murals: genocide comes in many forms.

Music – I have already given you “La Factoria”. I ranted and raved about them for forever. If you recall, I had no clue as to what their message was – their music is sung in Spanish, which I don’t speak. I also said that I refuse to translate the words because they sound good and I’d hate to find out that the translations don’t sit well in my mind. I still listen to them everyday, and I still do not know meanings of the words. I do know the meaning of the word “harmonize”. If you check your “down wit it” dictionary for its meaning, you will most definitely find a picture of K-Ci and JoJo. Slide on over to Free Napster, and step back into time, a time when harmony was at an all-time high. The album, as well as the song, was “Tell Me It’s Real”. O-M-G!!!!! Not since the Persuasions has there been such a coming together of the forces of nature. Don’t stray too far. The next album is “Love Always” and the song is “All My Life”. If you were never a fan, these two songs alone might make a believer out of you. Go ahead – believe.

Are you sill on the Free Napster page? Good for you, because you know that I would not leave you hangin’ like that. Your eyes are probably getting weary from all of this reading so, here’s a little something that will make you get up out of your seat and make you dance a jig across the room. Guess what? It’s jazz!! Who woulda thought, huh? The group is called Us3, the album is Rare Requests, and the song is Cantaloop. I personally guarantee that if you don’t get up outta your seat and start dancing, I will double your money back!! Unfortunately, unless you are a member of Napster, as I am, you will not be privy to the re-mix that I listen to. It is Bebop at its best and it has a slice of Rap thrown in, and is topped off with some very unique scat thrown in for good measure. While you check that out, I’m gonna check out, ‘til next time. Peace.

copyright © 2008 blackstarr

Blackstarr52@gmail.com

The Renaissance, The New Millennium, wrap-up, G Dubya, Nancy Pelosi, impeachment, Kucinich, Colt 45, racial discrimination, genocide, malt liquor, murals,anti-graffiti, music, La Factoria, K-Ci and JoJo, Us3

Untitled

Everyday
The whole day long
Everyday
The same tired song
Feeling parallel parked
In a diagonal world
This way and that
Our image tossed and twirled
Hope and change vowed on the campaign
Yet we’re going down the same road again
Hope we’re not being used as political bait
Change how we think, let’s try to relate
That airing dirty laundry doesn’t make it suddenly clean
Stand up with a solution, a suggestion, I mean
We sit and we watch as we’re thrown under the bus
And no one says anything because “it’s just us”
So when does it stop, when does it end
How can we bring about a positive spin
We all aren’t lowlifes and tricks on the street
We got to school and work, have ends to meet
I want hope and change that I can follow
Not just words all too soon ringing hollow
Dark as midnight
We hear all the time
If not midnight
Then 11:59
Was the day originally meant for celebration
For good fathers to enjoy a moments elation
Not mentions of men with the backbones of squid
To overshadow the positive and good they did
It’s not that the message lacked real truth
Just that the timing was a bit uncouth
You can’t succeed
And then proceed
To bash us when the heat gets hotter
Our image and esteem your political fodder
We have problems yes, I’ll admit that’s so
So I’m not saying toss them out the window
The only thing I’m really trying to say
In perhaps my own misguided way
Is that continually speaking of the negative without
Offering solutions is no doubt
The quickest way to lose integrity
Not to mention it’s the epitome
of efforts done in futility.

© Missy 2008

myeishaspeaks@gmail.com

Renaissance, New Millennium, New Millennium, diagonal world, change, hope, futility, negativity, positivity, Barack Obama, poetry, social commentary, politics