Your Eyes Are Telling

Your eyes are telling me things that I want to hear,
They whisper your thoughts and invade every orifice humbling me.
Your eyes are telling me that infinity is not just a word,
That with every blink you open one million more possibilities.
I see galaxies and quasars in your irises,
I see beauty marks peppered in your skin for every freckle.
Your eyes are telling the future,
And the mysticism is too much for me to not look away.
But I want to know the future
I realize the urgency of the matter
That I once knew you and you knew me at a different time.
I realize that it’s only been a week
But every time I speak I want to say your name.
I wonder to myself, and sit and think everyday, why we do the things we do.
Are we all bound to make mistakes, or is this a slow R&B joint.
Every time you listen to it, it brings you back to that moment of strange happiness.
If we are not meant to be, why did we enter each others lives?
I still wonder about that question daily.
I look into your eyes and wonder why we aren’t talking
It’s like being kicked into a deep sea, and I’ve drowned.
What makes me miss you?
I don’t know, but my heart is heavy never the less.
I’ve heard you have someone new, and that makes me so happy.
You heart is large and I’m glad you found someone to fill that.
You’re more deserving of that then anyone I know.
Your eyes always see greatness in people.
The power of a smile, kindness in a touch, sweetness in a kiss.
I take in your gaze knowing this may be it.
That was you to me, my joy as well as my pain.
But your eyes they are telling me everything that I want to hear…
But your lips won’t say…
Won’t say…

© October 2005
Staats

I Am

One year later I am falling
Not from 105th street, but from the 105th floor
I am falling not to my death, but to my life
I am the firefighter who’s only hope is to help people as the WORLD falls at my feet
I am a worker down the street looking at a movie cause all I see is black and white.
As my modern day nuclear winter rains down on New York City my mind flashes to scenes from Independence Day
And I wonder will 9/11 ever give me any freedom from the hold that it has taken on the world.
I am strapped in my seat belt on American Airlines thinking if I die today will it prevent others from dying tomorrow.
I am Scarface saying ‘I never seen a man cry until I seen a man die.’
I am Jay-Z and I can’t see them coming down my eyes but I got to make this poem cry.
I am the brother who can’t tell my sister I’m sorry for the fight last night
The father who will ever see my son become the man I know he can be
I am the son conceived without my Dad ever knowing and me never knowing him.
I am the family member who is tired of being exploited by a fascist game of chest, as if I’m the pawn for America.

Pawn takes Rook, America Strikes Back
Knight takes Pawn, a college student in the reserves shipped off to Iraq.
Queen to castle, flags, berets, calendars, World Trade Center paraphernalia a capitalist society capitalizing on a country’s heartache and pain.
King advances to King, Bush to Hussein press forward ready to bring the Free World to its knees.
One move to checkmate, one move to Armageddon.
I am the spirit of peace to the soul of a broken world, embodied in the children and family of those lost.
I am strength where a nation threatens to fall.
I am a celebration of life.
I am a college student, 19 years old, late for class, turning on my TV thinking I left the channel on HBO, because America is on
Fire and the world is holding its breath.
And it can’t be real.
I am a son waiting by the phone for my father to call.
You know he still works down the street from the Pentagon.
One year later I still am.

© September 2002
Staats

What's In A Name?

Why bother to get to know me?
While introducing yourself does my appearance immediately appear too strong?
You've already decided that my curly hair against dark brown skin is too aggressive.
So when you hear my non-traditional name you look for ways to emasculate me.
My name is not pretty.
It is strong, bold, if anything handsome.
My name is not different or weird.
It is unique, uncommon, a not ur average moniker.
Do not look for ways to trivialize my existence.
I am not to be watered down as to suit your palette.
I will not fit in your box of how I should look, act, or sound.
My name is what it is.
And it defines me.
Don't try to familiarize it with something you've heard before.
Nor try to rhyme it with the 1st thing that comes to mind.
You won't hear it in a Dr. Seuss scheme or find it on a key chain.
If I say every syllable so you can hear the phonetics in it
You claim that you aren't slow.
So why do you keep referring to the indentation after the 'e' as an asterisk?
It's an accent.
To bring emphasis to the fact that you are unaware of my complexity.
Do not give me nicknames, abbreviations, or massacre who I am.
What does a man have but his name?
It is not urban, African, have any mystic connotation.
It is me.
And without my full name you will never really know me.
Deonte'.

Staats
© September 2006

Is $315 Dollars Worth Your Soul?

I know that this is not going to be everyone's favorite topic. But since when do I write to please others. I do it for me. I wrote this piece a long time ago. Seven years to be exact, so those that might have chosen this route. God bless you and I hope you have healed or are in the process of healing from this life lesson.


This is the question that too many teenagers and young adults, more so high school and college students, have to ask themselves on a daily basis. To abort or not to abort? It's not a question but a reality more often then necessary. Abortion, many cases being the product of irresponsibility and people not dealing with the consequences of their actions. We live in a world that tries to shortcut a problem, and think that they come to a correct solution. When in fact that thought process is what has resulted in 1.2 million abortions a year. Over one million mistakes? The thing about being a mistake is that after it has been done once, it shouldn't happen again. "We made a mistake," is no longer an acceptable excuse. Those of us that are supposed to be support systems are as guilty as those that commit the act. Think you are removed from the situation, lets try a scenario:

You see a woman going into a dorm room/apartment/house with your friend, the same woman your friend said he was going to "give it to". You then realize this is the same guy that said he doesn't use condoms, because he has never got a woman pregnant before. A few weeks later the woman is missing class/work/functions because she's too "sick" to leave her place. She's pregnant. You know it, she knows it, and your friend knows it. But it isn't any of your business when you find out that she is going to get rid of the baby. You even tell your friend to hand his business, and that no woman is worth losing his scholarship/job/comfortable life over.

Remember that beginning part, is $315 dollars worth your soul? Better yet is $315 worth the life of anybody. Common said it best with, "From now on I'mma use self-control instead of birth control." It isn't worth it. For those other there handling yours, good for you. No, you don't deserve an award, what you need is a soapbox for you to get up on and preach to those headed down the same path that you once travelled. Truthfully, how many of us are ready to be a parent? I'm not. And looking back on my life, I'm just lucky that God also decided that He didn't want me to somebody's parent.

Think back for a minute on your past sexual history. Has there been anyone in that history that you would want as the mother or father of your child. Some of us don't even talk to the people that we've engaged sexually. She's not the woman your momma wanted you to bring home, nor the guy that your Dad wanted to see with his daughter. But fellas, let's be real; if the girl you got pregnant, be it your girlfriend or just some random girl, and wanted to abort the baby would you try to stop her? Probably not. I would. I couldn't live with the thought of killing my son, my daughter, just so I can go out and make the same mistake again with somebody else. Or on a larger scale, kill off the next President of the United States, the doctor that finds a cure to cancer, or helps repair the ozone layer. A child is not a burden and should never be considered such.

In some cases having a child forces the parents to grow up. It's almost a test, to see if you'll step up to the plate of responsibility. Many choose to be a base runner, so that they can play the field and try to win at life without ever swinging a bat. As a baseball player can you live without ever hitting a ball? As a person could you live with yourself if you killed your unborn child? I do believe there are certain instances where the rules should be bent. This is a very sick world that we live in, where molestation, rape, and incest happen more often then they ever should. But I am pro-life.

Some people aren't ready to be parents. I'm not. But if you're not use common sense and a little thing called restraint. You don't have to "poke" everything in a skirt. Or ladies you don't have to get everything in a nice car or with money in their pockets. And ladies "it's too many Black women that can say they mothers, but can't say that they wives." So the next time you encounter a brother with a child, give him the time of day. That child tells you what is in that man's soul. Don't worry about a ready made family or the baby's mother. That man isn't just a man, but a father single or not. He is responsible, dedicated, committed, and someone that can be counted on. At least in one little person's eyes. Every one makes mistakes, but he didn't. That child isn't a mistake, the conception of that child wasn't a mistake. God doesn't make mistakes. And that child is God's definition of that man.

"I don't wanna, go through the drama of having a baby's momma/
Weekend visits and buying' J's ain't gonna make me a father/
For a while bearing a child is somethin' I never wanted to do/
For me to live forever I can only do that through you/
Nerve I got to talk about them niggas with guns/
Must have really thought I was God to take the life of my son."

-excerpts from Common's "Retrospect for Life" featuring Lauryn Hill.

People Don't Dance No More...

...All they do is... Snap

Yes, I'm guilty of listening and enjoying what is the emerging leader in Hip-Hop and R&B jams from the south labeled "Snap Music." But secretly I am awaiting the downfall of the ever catchy dance craze that is sweeping the urban community and saturating it with non-dancing club-hoppers.

It didn't occur to me until I was at Club 112 in Atlanta (the home of Snap Music), this past February how ridiculous it is to see hundreds of people doing the same synchronized dance. Stuff like that is only supposed to happen in movies. No one outside of couples are doing the exact same dance at the same time. Unless you are down in the "A" listening to pre-release of Goin' Down by Young Joc, the newest member of BadBoy South. Before the hit song made its way smoking on a midnight train from Georgia, the snap dance could also be seen mixed in with many of the city's other natives. Groups such as D4L and southern rivals Dem Franchise Boys had previously been battling privately and over the radio airwaves, with songs such as "Lean With It, Rock With It", "Shake Your Laffy Taffy", and "Betcha Can't Do It Like Me", giving verbatim instructions as to how to best do their dance.

Other Southern artists realized they were witnessing the latest shift in power in the Hip-Hop community. Not since Bass Music and the Bankhead Bounce had the south gained crossover appeal from the more dominant East Coast and West Coast styles of Hip-Hop. Soon the females of the ATL jumped on the bandwagon with lady like versions of how to Snap. Cherish's smash hit "Do It To It" was choreographed with ease just bouncing and snapping away, only to be followed up by Monica's "Everytime The Beat Drops". If you aren't sure what songs are snap songs, just listen to the background of any radio friendly song. In a hours time you should hear at least three songs, that have snaps to emphasize a point or to add to the chorus. The motto: The beat has to be hot, but the snap has to be hotter.


A visit to Los Angeles last month, showed me how strong of a hold it had over the nation. And it hadn't just ended with the snap. The Motorbike (made infamous by the Young Joc video) which is exactly what it sounds like someone imitating they are revving the engine on a motor bike has managed to strike out as the number 2 dance craze. Only to be followed closely with the "Shoulder Lean" perfected by two other Atlanta natives, T.I. and Young Dro. Despite the popularity of such shows as So You Think You Can Dance, or the popular teen movie Step Up that stresses the beauty of all dance forms, I don't think this is what they had in mine. Those that excelled in the two step are cheering all the way to the dance floor. Creativity is now being frowned upon. Finding yourself at any club not going along with the crowd when these songs drop is tantamount to Hip-Hop treason. Not only do you stick out like a sore thumb, but you also are blocking someones hand that is trying motorbike or snap in your direction.

Now before you jump on my case, like I said I enjoy the music. The beats although simplistic are entertaining. And sometimes a little snap here or there is okay. But people exercise moderation. Every song isn't a snap song. Or something you shoulder lean into. When pop acts start mimicking your style its time to give it up. Not to break an already great mold, Diddy the creative mind behind MTV's Making The Band 3 group, Danity Kane, teamed up his lovely lady ensemble with their labelmate Young Joc for another stirring rendition of who can snap better on the groups first single "Showstoppin'". The format has also changed time zones with Chicago's newest boy group One Chance, that appear on Usher's new label, featuring their first single "Look at Her" featuring Fabo from D4L snapping away.

One more thing before I go. "Chicken Noodle Soup"?!? Chicken Noodle Soup with a Soda on the side? I must say I prefer snapping to someone kicking me in the club as they are "getting it", as the song instructs. Can Cee-Lo please take a break from Gnarls Barkley and return to Goodie Mob. Just so that they can do a remix.

"Because people don't dance no more, all they do is this..." Snap.

Change The Station

you think that Right Here is Where I Wanna Be?
Can't You See i'm a Star?
i Shine so brightly in the sky that hubble will have to wear Stunna's
just to avoid Damaged lenses.
but rather then Showstoppin' I'm out here Hustlin'.
tryna make a dollar out of 15 cents (a dime and a nickel).
Round-n-Round I go Patiently Waiting for Happy Hour.
serving round and rounds of liquid absolution.
i wonder Whatchu Lookin' 4?
it's not Down Bottom of the glass.
trust me i've already checked.
How Does It Feel to be Torn between doing What You Want?
and doing what other's Tell Me.
It Seems Like I'm Ready to make another change.
But it's this One Thing that keep's me here
in this land of green that is as barren as any desert.
If i could just Snap My Fingers or make One Wish to change my fortune I would.
i pray for serenity, but She Keeps On Passing Me By.
i have to realize she's not my Superwoman.
that my problems are tangible.


someday's Nothing Even Matters at all.
i feel like i can Touch The Sky.
and end up Floating on Cloud 9.
but it eventually it All Falls Down
like the Rain outside my window.
Can You Stand It?
the pressure of the Impossible.
it's an everyday occurrence when i start my day.
a regular Deja Vu.
only today i'm quitting.
telling them that This Is For My People.
i will no longer hasten to your call
no longer Smile or answer to your Oh Boy cry for service.
i may be Down But Not Out.
not by a long shot.
i have purpose.
and nah, I Ain't Mad At Cha,
but RESPECT is something everybody deserves.
and i'm Everyday People just like you.
yeah, even Me Too.
but I won't wait until Next Lifetime to finally get a piece of the pie.
i want it now.
this is my survival story.
and Sometimes I just get to thinking.
feel like A Long Walk
On My Own.
thing see a little bit clearer now that the rain is Gone.
still waiting on my bright Sun Shiny Day.


© August 2006
Staats

20 Questions

Excuse me Miss, but can I offer you some companionship?
You know a companion?
Someone to keep you company?
Share a cup of coffee; some conversation.
No, not looking for a relationship.
Wouldn’t know how to deal with one.
See, I’m damaged goods,
I’ve been broken and I’m still tryna put the pieces together.
What do you want to know?
I’m ready for the Q&A.
Are you ready for the answers?
Fantasy is what people want, but reality is what they need.
As long as you don’t ask we can still keep this easy fantasy.

Who am I?
I’m an addict.
Been addicted to the same thing for 5 years.
Didn’t realize it was an addiction until today.
Got told that I looked tired.
The way they said tired, I felt they were talking about my spirit.
My fascination with my addiction matured into a realization
Really it was my perversion.
Twisted images making a slow motion picture.
Sorry, I’m putting too much on you.
More questions?

Where have I been?
To everywhere and nowhere.
Past then, forward to never, here to now.
I’ve been someone’s companion, someone’s company before.
Also been a mover and shaker.
Prince and pauper. Criminal and victim. Hoe and John.
I’ve been to love and to heartache.
They don’t live too far from each other, so it was a short trip.
Still interested?
I’m warning you the politically correct answers are about to dry up.
You should stamp me return to sender.
Glutton for punishment?


What am I looking for?
Solace. Not to be confused with solicitation.
Longevity. Consistency. Not this frantic day-to-day.
Nor this same shit different day.
Not this same bed different…
Again I digress.
I’m looking for understanding. Yeah, understanding.
But do you understand? Yes. No.
Wait. Hold on before you ask another, I have more to say.
I kinda like this question.
I am looking to be self-medicated.
Self-motivated into trying self-healing.
I am looking to make the things wrong with me right.
Healed, because someone that is so sick like me
Has no business trying to make something new.
Especially, when I don’t know if I’m contagious.
My emotional nervous system has Acquired an Immune Deficiency Syndrome.
Yes, before you ask I’ve looked into herbal remedies.
And I’ve tried rubbing alcohol in a glass on the rocks
But swallowing hasn’t helped either.

How many women have I slept with?
Interesting question.
You tell me why you would ask that.
Why that is something that you want to know.
You give me a valid reason and I’ll give you an honest answer.
But to me that is an inconsequential.
I don’t do number questions.
How many? How many times? How many places?
Are you coming home with me tonight?
That’s the only way you get to an immediate answer to something like that.
Yes, I’ve been promiscuous and had pre-martial sex
And almost always used precaution.
Still doesn’t remove me from the consequences of pre-natal care
Or clinical treatment every six months.
If I were you I would’ve asked when was the last time I’ve been tested.
No, it doesn’t imply that you want to sleep with me.
It’s almost like asking do I care about myself and those that I bed.
I’m no saint. Nor an angel.
Only wings I think I will ever get are the ones etched in ink I have.
And those were a gift.
Sorry, another tangent. Touchy subject for me.

What do I do for a living?
I hustle.
I put pen and per and illustrate in block script.
No, it doesn’t pay the bills, but you asked what I did for a living.
In order for me to live I have to write.
Have to work out my problems on parchment.
I’m parched. Your turn.

What's my problem?
I’m an addict. I think too much.
Like I think you don’t ask the right questions.
I think we scratch the surface
Then get upset when we find that the well we’ve chosen to drink from is shallow.
You sit there trying to strike oil.
Things seem like I could be someone to get to know.
But don’t try to mold me.
I’m broken pieces.
Told you before.
I’m trying to use this upfront and honesty thing.
Prevent the highs and lows in getting acquainted.
Not ready to be someone’s rock.
But maybe we could be companions.
And when you want to ask the right questions
But you aren’t happy with the answers, I’ll respect that.
You can walk on by and there will be no hard feelings.
I’m not trying to scare you.
I’m a work in progress. Working on me.
And honestly. Well we all have secrets.
I’m willing to share with you.
But ask the right questions.
Something’s are easier to say yes or no to
Then volunteering information.
Until then. I’m here.
Trying to keep you company.
But I’m more then comfortable being by myself.
Are you?

© August 2006
Staats

So Simple As...

A Booty Call at any given time
Defines the Evolution of our Future
Go ahead and try to Hide the shock
Ignore the Justification that i don't Know you.
Lament over the Moves that brought us to these crossroads.
No; Obviously the simplicity of our Progress should be simple.
you know ABC.
that's Quaint, curse me.
it doesn't Reverse the Situation.
Tantamount to breach of contract
it was Understood that our interaction was an acquaintance.
your tantrums speak Volumes to your motives
Whatever they may have been.
multiple infractions of unabashed indiscretion
like Xerox copies no time different from the last.
You called it our Zero drama situation.

1 moment things are good
the next 2nd we end up in this 3-angle of
Love, Lust, and Loneliness.

© August 2006
Staats

Stratosphere

Boy, keep your head out of the clouds
The air is so thin up there
And you can't tell left from your right
Vast, nothing, as far as the eye can see
But I can see why you like it up here
The clarity is so tangible
It gives order to your thoughts
Makes them manageable
Easier to handle
I've never seen the sun trace across the sky and color in the clouds.
If I was a bird I couldn't fly this high
The air is so thin
It took 30,000 feet to cruise
To realize at this height I have nothing to lose
That I can heal myself
Learn to correct the mistakes I've made
Understand my own self-worth by putting my troubles on a shelf.
With my head in the clouds
I can't tell if its Cumulus or Nimbus
I just know that it surrounds me
When it gets pregnant with rain, I too become dark and heavy
But up here, in this Stratosphere
Everything is so Blue
And vast. Nothing, as far as the eye can see.
I wonder how far does nothing go?

© July 2006
Staats

Movie Review: Miami Vice

WACK! OK, sorry had to get that unprofessionalism out real quick. Without giving away too many of the hapless less energetic parts of the film, I was very disappointed to say the least. Miami Vice, starring Jamie Foxx and Colin Farrell, never bring home the plot. From the opening scene, where the title of the movie never comes up, it starts and stops and has no real continuity. You don't know if this is days, weeks, months. The movie is extremely monotonous. And the action that a Micheal Mann film (Collateral, Heat) normally brings is not evident. The few action scenes are well scattered out, and they come at very obvious times. The two multi-million dollar stars even fail to come off as genuine in their parts.

As of watcher of Miami Vice the series, I felt that Tubbs and Sonny had a very strong repoire. This was lacking in the movie adaptation. The partners looked as if they had been paired together last week. Dry was how my movie companion described it. And that's exactly what is was. Dry. And long. At the end, it seemed a mockery and comedy-less version of Bad Boys. The fast cars, clubs, women, stretch of Miami freeway, boats, planes, all seemed repetitive. With none of the charisma that we look for. Sorry Jamie, you can't win them all.
2.5 out of 5 Stars

Time Travellin'

Check the Flux capicatator and set the coordinates for the 2nd star on the right.
Please fasten all seatbelts.
Check the no smoking sign, check; engines ready, check; all carry on items securely under your seat, check;
Relax, get a grip it’s not often I’m going to take a trip.
A trip to a post 9/11 vision of a post dated postcard that reads The Renaissance but is light years away of the post no bills destination of mine.
I time travel in a Sky Blue Taurus and be it not heavenly nor bullish it provides escapism.
Leaving a place that leaves no one behind; Michael J. Fox couldn’t even jump start this Deloran.
Nor could any Historian reading my biography 50 years later fathom this distorted theory of creationism.
Where time is irrelevant, able to bend at my will.
Willingly, I refuse to complete the circle picking places and dates along my timeline.
Sometimes just reaching forward and bringing everything to a halt.
Just listen. Hear. Strain. Comprehend.
The Thundercats are on television, somewhere in a Pacific Time the Devil’s Mafia grabs a golden figure.
But I can’t figure out what location I’m at or what year.
The only similarities of the cartoon and the rapper is that they both screaming about Ho’s.
I’ve seen this all before. Dreamed it. Willed it.
Wanted this to be everyday. Not sure what day it is.
All I know is that the sun is out and it feels good.
This time and place so far from my space, which only allows me a small representation of this H.G. Wellian.
On these voyages to the Center of my Universe, I try not to meet myself so as not to cause a Paradox.
You know a Paradox. How can two people occupy the same place at the same time without causing some multi-climatic seismic cataclysmic catastrophe that might rip the space time continuum? Great Scott!!!
Continuing on Back to the Future, because I don’t know if I’ve been here before.
Dreamed it. Willed it.
Am I going back, or if it’s the future have I not already been to
The Rage up in Harmdom that is met with coincidence filled with signs that flash red sending you signs.
No turn on red. Do not lean on doors. Do not cross. Do not pick up the table hurl it across the room and kick Rage’s ass. And do not pass go…or collect $200 dollars.
Anger and money won’t speed up my clock. Anger and money’s offspring Greed is a bitch; that Karma is still chasing, a never ending time in a never ending story.
I must say this inebriated feeling can’t be abbreviated or bottled up to send a message to my fellow travelers who’ve lost their way.
This is not a broken circle; not a path for you to follow. It only helps me measure my stats.
I am Staats by the way. Not your average. But the summation of all that I want to be. I transition space to exist in my own math.
Where 1 times 2 times 3; divided by a man traveling on a train from North Carolina who leaves at 11am on a 6,000 mile journey will reach his destination yesterday.
And he doesn’t even leave until tomorrow.
I’ve seen this all before. Dreamed it. Willed it.
Wanted this to be everyday.
Time’s up.
Please put all trays in the upright position. We will be coming off Cloud 9 shortly. Also turn off all electrical devices as they may short circuit something. We just don’t know what.
The time is now whatever you want it to be. And don’t let anyone tell you differently.
As always we know you don’t have much of a choice when you Time Travel. But we do appreciate you tripping with us.
You may know take off your seatbelts.

© March 2006
Staats

His Daily Variety

Bored at work? Want to read something of substance or just somebody else's ranting and raving. Please check out my fellow blogger in crime. Me and this guy have collaborated on some word pieces, and some future projects for you to be on the look out for. Show him some love. The man with many names. Click the name to check out... HisDailyVariety

Friends How Many of Us Have Them?

"I'm just hanging out with a few friends."

How many times have we uttered those words, and at the same time realize that it is the furthest thing from the truth. Its amazing how loosely we use the word Friend. It's just an easier characterization then having to say, "I am with an associate." Or that some people you hang out with occasionally are out with you. But would you consider them friends? Probably not. We form associations with people, and they have qualities that one day might matriculate into friendship. But its a word that I find very hard to mean genuinely. It's hard for those that I meet in the future to enter my circle of friends. Considering that I have had some of the same friends since 7th grade. Or that I travel with friends that I met my freshman year in high school. It makes those people that come into my life for a short time feel more as acquaintances. Not to knock what they have the potential to be, or that the road to friendship is hard. There are just little things that you expect from your friends. They are your rock, they have seen you cry, they tell you about yourself even when you don't want to hear it, they are someone that you would ask for a loan from. They are your support system.

Friends know your last name, and they have heard your middle name. They just might not remember it. They know your birthday. You visit their parents or send them cards on holidays and special occasions. Your younger siblings become their younger siblings. I have friends that are as close to me as some family members. They are my extended family. The fact that I can be myself whenever or wherever with them is the greatest thing about friends. You don't have to put on a mask. You don't have to lie, you can just be you. And they don't care who you are today or tomorrow, they still want to be apart of your life. So without naming names, I am thankful for my true friends. The Crew. 10 years. And somehow we still can stand each other.

"Friends, how many of us have them. Friends, ones we can depend on. Friends, how many of us have them. Before we go any further, let's be FRIENDS!!!- Whodini

Friends Dating Friends?

Good idea or not? I don't think so. Friendships are valuable assests. Friends are there to bounce ideas off, share highs and lows, but dating complicates all of those things. Yes, I think that the person you are dating should be your friend. It's a very fine line. Their are people that you meet that you are attracted to, depending on how fast you move, you might try to befriend them before trying to date them. That's fine. Now their are people that have grown up each other, went to the same schools, lived around the corner from you, whose friendship is the very foundation of your association. Dating those people are where things get complicated?

You are familar with the dating patterns of your friends. You know when they don't return phone calls, what that really means, or if they want to go out a lot, you recognize those patterns. Because good friends talk to each other about past relationships. It's also evident that when friends start dating each other, they become oblivious to certain things. They take for granted the nature of your foundation. Sometimes they become great partners, but forget to be great friends. And then what if something goes wrong?

You might have the same group of friends. Who is allowed to hang with who? You put your common friends in awkward situations by making them decide who they are closer to. You find yourself at mutual events and try to avoid each other. But you share a history. And you are expected to graciously cope with the introduction of their newest partner, at these mutual events. It's hard. It's easy to a big person on the outside, but on the inside it takes its toll. So really examine is dating a close friend, really worth the risk. Cause when the dust settles will that girl or boy next door still be there.

He Ain't Heavy...He's My Brother

Is it possible to be overly excited and dreading something all in the same moment. I am overly excited to celebrate my birthday with friends. Overly excited about seeing my brother in Hawaii. Dreading what the next year will be like while he is in Iraq. Prayer. That's all I really have. I have reassured myself that GOD is going to watch over him, while he is away. That HE is going to make a way for his wife and his kids, and that we will hear from him regularly. That we will get updates that he will be coming home soon. But I don't know. The unknown is the scariest thing to me right now. How many other families, brothers, husbands, wives, pray for the same thing? How come their prayers weren't answered? How come they were sent there in the first place? All these questions. And the fact of the matter is, everyday closer I get to seeing my brother, is another day closer for his deployment. It's hard being the strong one in the family. Hard shouldering the concern, and the hurt, and the acceptance. It's hard when you're expected to have all the answers. But all you have are all these questions.

"Don't mess with my money, or my kids. My husband can take care of himself," is what my mother always says. But the US Army is messing with my brother. I know he's going to come back. I just pray somewhere he will still be that little boy that peels in the sunlight, and that I used to tear up when we were fighting. And I pray somewhere he will continue to be that man that is doing something with his life, and that three little kids think that as long as their Daddy is around everything else is just fine. God speed and get home soon.

Independence Day

America can star spangle me and hang me from a banner
Anything to claim independence and use it for glamour
Cause no matter how you add it up and put it on the 4th of July
Two hundred and fifty years to a black man ain’t shit but a lie.
See I don’t have forefathers that signed some important parchment
I have ancestors that traveled the Atlantic in a two feet by four feet compartment
Whites have George Washington and them that created the Constitution
I have but to look out the window and see how my ancestors built this American Institution.
Go ahead and sign your John Hancock and keep trying to feed that bullshit cock to my people
Cause now your free so what about me
Now lets not forget my man Abe Lincoln
Whoa, wait a minute what the hell was I thinking?
Anyone who actually thinks that that selfish bastard meant to free us is about to get a history lesson
January 1, 1885, let me sign the Emancipation Proclamation, a documentation of falsifications, written in a act of desperation, full of nothing but defecation from a nation well versed in masturbation of Blacks.
So while we get the jerk off we are supposed to be happy about the 4th of July
WHY?
We the people, in order to establish a more perfect union…bullshit
All men are created equal…you’re really not serious
One nation under God…now you use the Lord’s name as your shield
Well I am here to knock you off your high horse
Now that you are looking up at me from the muck that is the USA
Don’t ask me to pledge allegiance to a place that doesn’t believe in itself
A nation that constantly reneges on what its foundation is supposedly built on
So I’m going to amend, and amend, and amend some more until there is nothing left.
I ain’t fooled by the fireworks,
The 4th is just a day for me to get off work.
Juneteenth is the day when Blacks were free
So that’s the date when you can start to talk Independence with me.

Oh, say can you see from the crosses burning light
That the home that we built is so shaky and scheming
And the screams that you hear
Will create their new fear, as I bring truth to the light
And my fist is still here.

© July 2002
Staats

Executive Dining

Ahhhh!!! The service industry. Yes, easily one of the oldest professions in history, yet its blue collar image has caused many to frown down upon this honorable position. Let’s face it. It’s one of those jobs that have to be done. Now, not to be confused with the fast food industry; waiting tables can be a very lucrative job. Often held by students and young adults, because of the flexible schedules and fast cash options, waiting tables is seen as a stepping stone or transition into another field. Everybody in their life time has dined at a restaurant; some better then others. But what often keeps a customer patronizing that particular restaurant has to do as much with food quality as it does service. So why is it that good service does not beget good tipping practices?



Upscale and fine dining establishments such as H20 in Washington, D.C, Dolce in Los Angeles, Justin’s in New York, or even the chain of Ruth’s Chris restaurants located all over the United States, have tipping practices that have gratuity already added into the customer’s bill. Many after hours cafes and diners also use this method as late night patrons may not be inclined to leave a significant amount for a tip. Well, before we analyze these practices, first a little education. For it is education on the idea of gratuity where I think we fail to completely understand each other. Previously, waiters and waitresses have had the luxury of having a job where the IRS cannot accurately determine how much money they make in tips. A new occurence to deter this has been the implementation of declaring tips. This concept is universal and takes place in many restaurants. Servers are given the option of claiming the amount of tips that they may have received in a shift, so that can be properly credited on their pay stub. Many restaurants have it where servers cannot claim anything less then what they have made in charge tips, everything else is based on the honor code. This honor code, many are not apt to hold up. Reason being, that majority of waiters and waitresses make a whopping total of $2.13 cent an hour. Half of minimum wage. The IRS has also added a portion into tax forms specifically for those that make majority of their wages in tips. So, if you don’t claim it they can’t track it. But that too also has its reprecussions and consequences.


Ok, back to the matter at hand. $2.13 an hour. Slave wages. With inflation and the economy doing all that it can to make sure the improverished stay that way, this cannot be an ample means to sustain most people’s lifestyles. Some restaurants go above and beyond to help guide the guest to what a suitable tip should be. Some Bonefish Grill restaurants, a subsidiary of the Outback Corporation, include a suggested gratuity of 18% percent that is printed by the total price of the meal. So let’s give you a few rules to follow the next time you decide to eat out.


Rule #1
If you are on an Executive Account (meaning you get reimbursed for your meal), or you have a Corporate Card, and the service is great. You should automatically tip 20%. It’s not your money and you can write it off.

Rule #2
Do not blur the line between a servers mistake and the Kitchen cook’s mistakes. Your waitress did not undercook your steak, so please don’t take it out on them.

Rule #3
10% gratuity is for bad service and bad service only. It is never ok to tip that low amount. 15% - 18% for decent service.

Rule #4
Always treat your server with the same respect that you would want to be treated. No yelling, no snapping fingers to get their attention, and definitely no grabbing.

Rule #5
If the restaurant closes at 11pm, then you need to leave no later then 11:30pm. Servers want to go home at the end of the night too. So please don’t walk into a restaurant at 10:58pm and expect for everybody to be happy.

It would be my wish that everybody on this Earth should have to wait tables at least one weekend to really get the experience that I am speaking about. As a former waiter I would never not leave a decent tip, because I know what they have to go through. So just keep that in mind.

The Single Man's Blues

I have the single man’s blues. Why is it that all of my friends from high school are having kids and getting married? Well some are actually doing it the traditional way by getting married and having kids, but I’m not knocking it. Anyway, I am sick and tired of being asked to be a godfather, a groomsmen, a bachelor party planner (well I like that part). All of it is just pissing me off. And it’s not like I don’t know the reason behind it, I just realized that its affecting me this way.



In the past 4 years I have not dated any woman of that marriage caliber. And I feel that I am in the minority when talking about this subject to my single male friends. I have a desire to be with one woman for the rest of my life, with little rugrats following in tow. I just don’t see it happening for me in the near future. Or any future for that matter.

And I am not saying this for any factual reason, its just the quality of women that I have chosen to date don’t make it past 3 months let alone enter into that lifetime category. So I live vicariously through my siblings who are married with kids, and I try to be the best uncle possible. But sometimes I feel reckless enough to allow thoughts of getting some random girlfriend pregnant just so that I can share in the joys of fatherhood. Now me being as responsible as I am, those thoughts are fleeting. Plus, I am allergic to baby-mama-drama. Nor, do I want to put my kids through that. I don’t know. I just been real mellow. I have a birthday coming up soon, and I just feel like I haven’t done anything to leave my mark on this world. I don’t feel sad…more like melancholy.

‘And since my sweetie left me hollow/Well it aint been the same old thing…/I know someone that lives there/And I know she won’t refuse/To put some music to my troubles and call them Harlem Blues’ -Cynda Williams, Mo Better Blues Soundtrack

Black Error Television Awards (remix)

I just realized the last post I put up here started off talking about the errors of the BET Awards. But I changed my thought pattern halfway through. Well as Diddy says, "This is the remix."

Here are a list of things that I could have done without seeing on the Awards program.

#1. Baby Mama Slob Down

I understand surprise performances and collabos. I am all for that on Award shows. Definitely a way to make things new and spice some things up. But when does spice become spoiled. I felt sick watching Fantasia and Jamie Foxx tounge wrestling on TV. And then she didn't even sing. She just Bobo'd across the stage and screamed into the mic.

#2. Stop Beating Around the Bush

Stop digging up old sitcom actors and actresses just to throw a twist into their little skits. Yes, we all have been dying to see Janet and her new and improved body (since her bounce back from the Fat Farm). What I didn't need was the Good Times cast, Strung Out, Where Have You Been, and Sickly. I mean JJ, Thelma, and Micheal. Although it was a nice way for lil Penny to make a comeback, I had flashbacks to Hot Iron marks. Next time let the 40-year old sex symbol have the stage to herself.

#3. X-Men 3: The Ghetto Storm

I don't know if I am more offended by Mary J. Blige screaming for 46 seconds, or the fact that she looked like a ghetto superhero in her catsuit, knee high Power Ranger boots, and half a pony attached to her head. Yes, I've never been a Mary J. fan. Some might even call me a hater. But didn't she look like she was about to take off in flight to fight crime. Maybe that's her mutant power, scream and screech, until you turn the channel.

#4. Check 1, Check 2...

"My mic sound right, check one...my mic sound right, check two...my mic sound right, check three...are you ready"
...NO!!!
Sound checks are so that we can work out kinks, like microphones working. CD's being cued to the right spot. And that all backups are ready. So what happened during TI's performance. Now you wish you had a five minute delay don't you. Now BET just looks bootleg. And it has nothing to do with the venue. Its the Kodak Theatre. You didn't see this kind of foolishness during the American Idol Finale.

#5. The Original Metro

PRINCE! What else do I need to say. This dude had on some shoe boots, a purple pant suit, a matching purple neck scarf, flawless make-up, and his hair was flowing. Yeah, I'm still talking about a dude. I mean his hair looked better then half the women in the audience. Ladies, step your game off. Those women out there with original style like Kelis, that makes you Bossy. But until you float around the stage, and your hair doesn't move, you are nowhere near Prince. LOL.

Black Error Television Awards 2006

Black Error Television, should have been the name of last night's awards program. And the biggest error came from the executives that decided to have Damon Wayans, host the 6th annual telecast. Wayans, who seemed under the influence, was unbearable, unenergetic, unfunny, and boring. He lacked the comedic style of Cedric the Entertainer, Steve Harvey; the grace of Monique; or even the entertaining skits that Will & Jada put on last year. Overall the show could've hosted itself. But that's not where the error stops.

Rapper, and BET Best Male Rap Artist winner, TI, had a performance marred with sound problems. The artist in true performer style went on with the orchestra accompanied version of "What You Know About That", which through the first half of the song had no background accompaniment. The sound just failed. The crowd tried to get into it. But the violin heavy arrangement was still missing the familiar bass line.

Diddy, would also fall victim to microphone failure; which continued when his BadBoy South act Young Joc took the stage to perform a short version of "It's Going Down". In good fashion Diddy made light of the failure and still showed that whether its high flying choreography or the latest down south snap, pop, shoulder lean, dip dance combo that he can still do it like no other.

The show had 3 highlights for me. The best performance Award for me goes to Busta Rhymes.

Not only did he get 6 of the 7 artists that were featured on his "Touch It" remix (missing only DMX), he also featured a unheard verse of Eminem. Busta puts on a show, and he made sure that his 2006 Club banger wouldn't be outdone ever. The BET Stage has seen many people on there at one time for one performance, but not everybody had a verse like this incident.

Best Concert Award: Goes to the Chaka Khan Tribute.

Now I say the tribute because Chaka, looked like her and Damon were sharing some of the same substances backstage. She didn't seem to command the stage like she is known for. She felt more comfortable turning the show over to her fellow performers in the likeness of Prince, Stevie Wonder, Yolanda Adams, and India Arie. Yolanda Adams for the first time I have seen singing secular music. And then singing "Sweet Thing" and "I'm Every Woman" better then Chaka could think about. Yolanda wailed on both songs, and showed that even gospel artists could be Divas.

Best Epileptic Performance: Goes to Beyonce'.

She killed it. She sounded great on the track. She looked great. The all girl band was sexy and showed you what Earth, Wind, & Fire would have looked like if they had been women. She gyrated all over the floor, flung her Diana Ross style hair-do and worked every part of the stage. Noticeably missing was her Bootylicious area. Ms. Knowles seemed to have made a deal with her personal trainer to trade in her Bounce for a Better Tummy. Her butt was definitely smaller, but the 6-pac was a little more defined. I guess she is trying to hold off on looking like her mother for a few more years. B's new single from her sophomore CD B-Day, "Deja Vu", is very deja vu for the BET Awards. She hit the stage a few years back with "Crazy in Love" with her then rumored man Jay-Z. This year seemed to be a little of the old saying "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." Only difference was the clear butt pat that President Sean Carter gave Beyonce' during their opening performance.

Overall, the show was the weakest of the last six years. It just didn't seem to have BET's Star Power that they are always toting as their personal mantra. Maybe next year we can get Monique back. And lets see how much of Beyonce's performance she can duplicate next time.

Blessed and Highly Favored

Today the prodigal son made his long awaited return to church. It has been the first time that I have set foot in a church in over 6 months. 7 months to be exact. For no other reason then me not doing what I needed to make sure I was up on Sunday mornings.

Nonetheless, today all roads were leading to some religious edifice. The duality of the day can't help but be noticed. On my drive the weather was not good nor was it bad. On side of the sky offered a bright and clear display; the other half was dark and pregnant with heavy rain clouds. Almost if GOD Himself was welcoming me back home, but at the same time telling me that His House should be a first choice and not a last resort.

Do I think that this is my last resort? I seem to have a habit of letting the devil take so much out of my life, before I remember that GOD is consistently working on me. That all I have to do is call on him. I am like that guy with a new car. Yeah it looks all shiny and brand new, and even has a indicator that tells me when gas is getting low. Well I was treating GOD and my spirituality as that gas. I had filled up on church with the last great blessing in my life, and felt that I had enough to hold me over. Well, my gas light came on a few months ago. I ignored it and kept on driving, trying to get the most out of my buck. Well, even with a new car if you drive your car on fumes it can hurt the car and its engine. If you read about my nervous breakdown earlier then you realized my car almost seized and stopped completely. I realize I was spiritually empty. I needed a recharge. And the recharge I needed required me to attend church and pray just to pray, not only when I needed something. I kept ignoring GOD's warnings to come to him in prayer. I was too caught up in my own life.

The pastor today mentioned that if you are going to fall, don't fall for something so easy. At least put up a fight. He mentioned that your favor comes not in the form on money, but a blessing that is more abundant then any amount of money. Long story short, I go to a luncheon, that I am late for after church, and I am talking to one of my coworkers. Now this coworker was the first person in Greensboro to invite me to church with him. And we are talking about school, and my trials and tribulations. Well he then casually mentions that he made a pledge to his church to donate $250 dollars to help college students buy books. He offered to pay for my book for my summer course. Right there. Not one hour from when I left church. That's how fast GOD worked in my life. He didn't have a check waiting for me. HE sent me a message through an avid church-goer, a friend of mine, that all I had to do was come to HIM in prayer. And the pastor mentioned to know the difference between favor and something you forced to happen. Had it this offer come from anybody else I might have seen it as something I was willing to happen, but a man that knew my heart, and knew my faith, and listened to my story helped me help myself. So today is a great day.

So yes I am still driving that car. But this car is a different one. It's an electric. It requires me to come home and plug in to recharge. In other words I need to stay plugged into GOD and HIS word for HIM to work things out in my life. And that HE needs to be my first choice and not my last resort. Because not only am I blessed to have people in my life that are working on me as well, I am also highly favored.

Insecurities

Handle with care; Contents are extremely fragile
Should be the label on my forehead
Should warn you that on the outside I have it all together
But on the inside I can't tell my up from down.
But I do know I love you
But I have more then issues
I have subscriptions.
And the subscription is to Insecurity Magazine.
But I want you to read me.

Learn about the nuances and idiosyncrasies of me.
I want you to look at the advertisements.
See past the torn pages or folded corners.
Past my everyday wear and tear.
The words still say the same thing.
They just are a little harder to read.
I want you to read me; write letters to the editor.
Skim, the table of contents.
Find articles that make you laugh.
Pictures, that make you smile.
Editorials that make you think.
But understand I am a work in progress.
My content could be clearer if I had better subjects.
I am a product of my environment.
An archive of failure and success.
I am a Rubix Cube made of crystal.
All jumbled up, complex, fragile, but fixable.
Play with me, Turn me, Flip me, Look at me, Learn me.
But don't break me.

Handle with care.
Although I'm transparent, don't look right through me.
Everything isn't all cut and dry, until all the pieces are in the right order.
Confusion brought to clarity.
And what's clear is that I love you.
But I have more then issues.
I have subscriptions.
And the subscription is to Insecurity Magazine.
But I want you to read me.
So Ma'am, how long do you want to sign up for?

© April 2006
Staats

A Tale of Two Beautiful Minds

How is it that a writer is just getting to this point to start a blog? And on top of being a writer, I also like to talk alot. Again, another point that should have led to creating this a long time ago. Regardless of those reasons or any others that may come to mind I am starting this blog to chronicle my neurosis. I have come to the conclusion that I have suffered a severe emotional/nervous breakdown in the last two weeks. And of course the health insurance that is provided by my job does not cover pyscho-therapy. Let me start from the beginning...

A vacation is supposed to be just that a vacation. I indulged in one of these a few weeks ago. It was a vacation to see my family. Living in North Carolina only provides me with the emotional support that I allow my "friends" and associates to prescribe. True support comes from those that share a bloodline, that want to see you succeed with no alterior motives. But family can also press on you emotionally. For those that know me, and will get to know me I am not the most emotionally stable person in the world. But it works for me. My trip home brought up some insecurities that I didn't realize were still around. And as the India Arie song says, "No one has the power to hurt you like your kin."

My trip to Philly gave me the greatest experience to see my younger cousin graduate from high school. This guy is so much like me its scary. Seeing him graduate, meeting my sister's new husband, entertaining relatives, and friends is emotionally draining. But I enjoyed every bit of it. The instability found its foothold in my life through the 5-hour drive from Baltimore to Greensboro. That's a lot of time to be in a car with your worst enemy. Me. A good friend told me that I am my own worst enemy. That I allow outer influences to control my thought process, which starts an internal war. And trust me my mind is not the setting I want for World War III.

I have created in my mind two personas. One, that acquiesces to everyone and everybody. I am the poster child for someone that has it all together. I am articulate, intelligent, funny, amusing, thoughtful, nice, and honest to name a few things. This persona, we will refer to as Status. Status is fun to be around. He's even-tempered, very rarily shows any negative emotions. He always has a shoulder for people to lean on, and even when both shoulders are occupied, he has a spare pair so don't get worried. Status, smiles at work. Tap dances around his boss, all the while feeling like he is trying to place in the Field Negro Olympics. Status is liked by all...

Then there is Staats. Staats has been pushed down so far, that he doesn't really have a good clue as to who he is. But he does know who he would like to be. Free. Free to do what he wants. Say whats on his mind. To tell his boss to go to hell when he asks me a question that he should obviously know the answer to, since he is the boss. (Although, I've been there longer then him). To tell his friends, that yes you have issues, but I have my own subscriptions to deal with. And sorry I would like to be a willing participant in your pity party, but I just can't today. To tell people NO. No I will not listen, not help, not come get you, take you, buy you, sex you, go with you, indulge whatever you want to do. Today is about me. Selfish is what Staats wants. He hears the word spoken all the time, just never takes the opportunity to use it. To do things for self. Staats and Status had a fight, and for a while Staats threw a wrench into Status' world. Status was mean, surly, hateful, vengeful, overall unpleasant to be around. And this was evident to many people. But Staats was calling the shots. Repression is a bitch. I feel like their are two people in my head trying to guide my actions.

Today, well today I think I have things under control. I think. I have four new gray hairs thanks to my meltdown. But I don't think my problems are anywhere near being solved. I have been able to keep a healthy balance, or so I thought, for years. I can't go down this dark road again. Won't allow it. Honestly, I don't think Staats or Status can exist at the same time in my head. I am going to have to figure out who Staats is, and stop hiding behind Status' mask.

Soulmates

SOULMATES

Some cultures believe that for every person you are intimate with
You give them a piece of your soul.
So me being promiscuous, does that make me soulless.
Are there women walking around with my happiness?
My artistic talent, my wit, my drive.
All those I could do without.
But can I find the woman that has my stability.
Can I trade back that one encounter, one lustful rendezvous, one meaningless night.
For a moment of peace.
Not a tangible piece, but genuine peace.
Over 100 pieces of my soul divided,
Multiplying emotional stress but still leaving me empty.
Void. Troubled. Not even half a man.
I have nothing to give of any substance
I have no soul to offer my mate.
I have no conscious to stop me from bed hopping.
I have no more pieces of me to give.
I have been rubbed raw emotionally.
Where the good and the bad hurt,
Where the hurt hurts so much its blinding.
Where you just want to end it all.
But question:
Where does a man with no soul go when he dies?

© June 2006
Staats