So, I'm leaving...

March 2nd...I'm gone. Period. I can't stop the process, I refuse to turn around. Even if I could stop the process...I wouldn't. I understand more and more each day why I absolutely HAVE to leave...

While the bumps and blows of life, initially brought me to this point. The fact of the matter is...my personal convictions and dreams have made me okay with it. I can't continue to languish in mediocrity or settle in a city that revels in it. Yeah, I could stay...continue doing my thing and try to help make the city better one person at a time, but I've realized that more often than not productions and performances get you more results than hard work. I'm not that kind of person.

The only productions and performances I do are poetry...and that's actually a selfish act more often than not. Yes, I pray someone gets something from my work and takes something away from a performance (On the rare occassions that I actually prepare and do them as opposed to being put on the spot....). However, more often than not...poetry serves as a therapeutic release for me. It's not a vainglorious action in any way...

Sure, I could give you names, places, dates, activities, receipts, and all sorts of other things that I have done trying to make this city better one child at a time...but why should that matter? Why should I exploit my work, my personal sacrifice, my love, for some personal/political gain? That's nothing more than self aggrandizement at the expense of someone else...in my particular case, a child.

A great friend and beautiful soul once said to me, "Everyone is looking for a come up....sometimes you just may be it...."

Well, Margaret...I understand now. I have been a few people's come up. I have been stepped on more than once to make sure someone else could see farther, reach higher, and be taller. At one point I reveled in the role of being a person who could help make things happen for other people. If I could help you get somewhere, no matter how near or far it was...I would do it.

What happens to me in the mean time? My dad once told me, "When you run out of favors...you run out of friends." Well, I got a few friends. (Literally, a few) Those people aren't going anywhere. I love them...they love me. They'll be here forever.

Well, I've run out of favors. I've run out of time. I've run out of patience. So, with all that being said...I'm no longer of service to anyone but myself and my close circle. I still got love for other people. I still care about people in general...but after March 2nd...I'm gone. Will I write if I care? SURE. When I come back, will I visit? You darn right! Will I come back for good? Hopefully...No.

I started off a poem I wrote in my notebook earlier with, "Don't tell me you'll hold me down...I might believe you." Well, I've allowed too many people to "be there", "Help me", and essentially "Hold me Down"

For lack of a better ending I'll say, "Put on your big girl draws everybody! The cargo is about to be jettisoned!"

Dear B'ham....(Inspired by Jay-Z's Dear Summer)

"For Jesus himself testified, that a prophet hath no honour in his own country."

John 4:44 (NIV)

Don't tell me that you'll hold me down...
I may actually believe you...

Dear B'ham/I know you gon' miss me at the crib
Because we go back like baby spit and bibs
Air forces and polo horses/A city where young niggas turn lighters to torches
I may come back one day/But I'm thinking it may be best to stay away
Because you never gave me a chance/Now you see me packing my bags like "aww damn"
Why you can't stay the city needs your voice?/But honestly the city/it left me without a choice
Can't chase my dream/City wouldn't give me a chance/I held you down for some years and couldn't get a helping hand
It's ok though/I understand disappointment so far/Became intimate with it while I was living in my car
But I refuse to fail/Won't let you break me/I'm smarter than most of ya'll/Harder this will make me/
You gonna miss me one day I suspect/I promise the day leave won't be one of regret/
Crabs in a barrell/I got tired of staring down/I guess you could call me a king crab because I'm escaping now/
By my own terms/ not the means I thought/Still the battle I'll fight now are better than the battles I lost...

So if you look for me Magic City one of these days/Wait 10 years and check the New York Times...front page...

Goodbye...