Grenade Of Peace.

I pulled the pin from my grenade of peace and clenched it against my chest to feel the full effect of a fantasy that will never be fulfilled. As militant as it may seem, my mind fires missiles full of miracle dreams and each weapon of mass construction soars above the sky, finding their malevolent targets amidst our wars where dreams come to die.

I pulled the pin from my grenade of peace to stimulate a sense of unity in the streets where soldiers slaughter one another with stolen shrapnel. My people have been plagued with a lack of pride, so the pressure is on me to progress the population so I pulled the pin from my grenade of peace to protect the prodigies who are an endangered species.

I pulled the pin from my grenade of peace and threw it blindly so the deaf can hear the violence in their silence. They can't hear the lies forced by forked tongues but they see the injustices forced upon us in the urban camps.

I pulled the pin from my grenade of peace and held my breath. The death of me will be an auto-geno-suicidal assassination by detonation.

I pulled the pin from my grenade of peace to kill the thieves that robbed us of the stellar stars from our skies and sold them for half the price to junkies who swallow the shine and sleep in the streets.

I pulled the pin from my grenade of peace to commence the siege upon the thousands of entities who pose as enemies with menacing smiles. They hide the truth and guide the youth to sign the dotted line and sell their soul. I pulled the pin from my grenade of peace to drown the sound of hell.

I pulled the pin from my grenade of peace because I'm a warrior in a world where wars wreck the unity of the youth in communities and villages. Immunity does not exist so we remain at risk of man to man diseases with more than nine hundred ninety nine thousand impurities. I pulled the pin from my grenade of peace because the cure is within me.

I pulled the pen from my brain to ease the pain of my thoughts never seeing light so I used the ink to write my dreams and ignite the fuse.

This one took three days to write. Inspired by Marianne.

There Are Two Types Of Life.

Since acquiring new freedom after graduating high school, I've learned there are two types of life. I had my plan, knew what I was going to have and when I would have it. Then I began college and everything seemed to push itself away. Your plans become hindered because that college loan bears interest, your mom can't make decisions for you, you need 60% of tuition paid to begin classes, that girl doesn't love you back, and you went over your minutes on your phone plan.

As a kid growing up, you are often told to focus on a career, what you want to be when you grow up.. Etc.. It's like, you formulate this grand scheme and anticipate it as if it will all be waiting for you when you pick up your High School Diploma. It becomes a paradox once it's embedded in your head that you must grow into an adult with a plan. Life A is what you are in control of. It is where your dreams rest. It is where your motivation is ignited.

Then there is what you cannot control. The outside forces that never cease to knock you down and force you to start all over again. This life exists in pure reckless abandonment. Fuck what you know, fuck what you've heard. This Life B works to destroy your hopes and break you down. It's impossible to avoid it's clutch. Life B wants to strip your of your intangible belongings-your pride, religion and dreams. However, don't we acquire the most valuable lessons through these damn experiences? We learn not to text and drive, we learn to save money, and we learn to be more responsible.

Now that I've made you read all this, I want to tell you that it's all false. Life is composed of Life A and Life B. It's the battleground between the good and the bad. What you must do is fortify your Life A so the malevolence of Life B cannot destroy the foundation. You're forced to prepare ahead to actually get ahead. The most paramount form of survival of the fittest.





1-Eminem's new album, Relapse. CRAZYGENIUS! T-pain, Ludacris, Young Jeezy, Rick Ross... no one can rhyme anything similar to Eminem. The album work is creative, it goes along with the whole theme of the album. Prescribed by Dr. Dre.
2-8gb Itouch. I'm in the process of putting my whole life into it. All the apps, maps showing traffic, weather, and the (un)limited Wi-Fi. Swag on a hundred-thousand-trillion.
3-Degree deordorant. Nothing keeps me feeling fresh all day like Degree. It's not slippery and doesn't stain my white tees.
4-Apricot scrub. Justin recommended this to me. I get a couple pimples on the forehead and everybody starts clowning. Oily skin FTL. Scrub hard with warm water. Find it at Target.

My Randoms.

I love seeing blocks bombed up like this. It's our art. It's part of what makes L.A. home to us. What I hate is the worthless "34th street Vario" and other gangs crossed out. There's always a mark of creativity and style when unique characters are created through a spray can. Legends are created this way.

I don't like eating breakfast but when I do, blueberry bagels with cream cheese FOR THE WIN! The turkey breast is a bonus.

Can you find 3 things wrong with this picture?
1-Is saggin' still poppin'?
2-Has white denim ever been acceptable?
3-And ol' girl in the HOT (pink) MESS-I took this picture on the Tuesday, on the train, around 3pm. All her nails were the same color too.

It was one of my New Years Resolutions to step my recycle game up. What are you doing with your bottles? I bet nothing, because you're not as koo as me.

Finally! HIP-HOP!!! You know how it's identifiable as REAL hip-hop? BECAUSE POWER 106 WILL NOT BE PLAYING NONE OF THIS! There aren't any club anthems, no damn jerkin'-none of that. Just raw lyrics over heavy beats. Hip-hop.

For sale. Size 9. VNDS. Worn once. Starting at $40.


Nice Guys Finish Last/Part 3.

The other day, a female friend of mine stated: "Nice guys finish last because they choose to." I agree because yeah, we do chose to be nice all the time and call it a loss in the end.

There are several reasons why Nice Guys lose. I feel there has to be some mystery. Each person needs to be their own person. We fall in love with their individuality and once it becomes altered, the relationship falters. Nice guys finish last because there is no mystery. A girl will take it for granted that a nice guy is always there, one of her utmost reliable friends, charming, charismatic, respectable, and fun. A girl doesn't want to be with a predictable guy. There has to be some uncertainty: Will he still love me if I'm not perfect? Am I of priority to him? What do I mean to him? It doesn't make sense why a girl would want a guy who treats her like she's nothing special. I think it's because a girl doesn't want predictable. And predictable is not exciting. And in order to get that first date or even a sign of attraction, you must excite. Nice guys do and give everything without her doing anything so why would she put a high value on him? A girl wants a guy who's ego and self worth remains untouched no matter her response or reaction to what he says or does.

When a woman does not need the attention of a nice guy to feel complete and strong, the relationship will have a sturdy foundation because each of their personalities compliment each other. She can be her own woman and spare the nice guy because she won't be in need of what the nice guy has to offer. So, a nice guy is a tool box that remains open. Lending tools out only to have them returned broken.

I've seen this happen far too many times. A beautiful girl takes and takes the tools-either doesn't return them or returns them broken. She finds someone attractive and gets with them for the wrong reasons. He subconsciously lowers her self-esteem (kat williams) and damages the value of her heart. That equates to a broken woman. A broken woman loses touch of her morals, loses herself and damages her foundation. The nice guy remains intact, ready to give everything he has to offer to another girl. One of two things happens: He finds a new girl who shares mutual feelings, or the broken girl who initially took advantage of his feelings comes back because of that rare dependability.
Both parties learn a valuable lesson nonetheless.
For the guys, state your intent from the jump and don't change your morals for anyone. The person who you are should be accepted, not the things you do to be seen as a decent guy.
For the girls, be your own woman and use careful discretion with whom you choose to begin a relationship.

If you would either like to inform me that I'm wrong on anything I said, if you agree or disagree, or dare to debate me about these statements, text, email, AIM, or myspace me. Any input is appreciated.


On Repeat.

Silversun Pickups "Swoon"

Lupe Fiasco "The Cool"
MF Doom "Born Like This"
"Be too nice and people take you for a dummy. So nowadays he ain't so friendly. Actually they wouldn't even made a worthy enemy. Read the signs: no feeding the baboon, Seein as how they got ya back bleeding from the stab wounds"

Oppress Us.

The moon has a distance
Synonymous with my limits.
My dreams are farther
Than these visible stars
And I see the future reflecting in the water.
My blood is thicker than a lion's roar
And I speak with pain because I speak for those poor.
Poverty lacks a voice; Poverty lacks an image
And poverty lacks a choice.
My pen is mightier than their swords
Oppress us! I am a martyr for these words.
Let my crimson blood write scripture for them to follow
And if I die today, I'll be alive tomorrow.
Can a life truly be gone if it is forever remembered?
My flame started out as a single ember
With the name of a fighter.
Poverty will always be my igniter.

This poem is dated 5-27-08. I was a senior in high school, ignoring the lessons and losing myself within my own poetry. I have STACKS of folded paper with half-poems, single lines, scratched out lines, graffiti sketches and real masterpieces that dominated my mind while I was caged in the epitome of mediocrity that is Bellflower High School. The teachers never taught us about real world humanity, such as poverty. I was stuck learning a lesson that the teachers have been teaching for years without change (we read the same material as the class of '04 read). These fucking high schools out here don't allow us to be an INDIVIDUAL.

They CENSOR us from the real world as if we need to be sheltered. Often we ask why we need to take these bullshit classes and it's as if the teachers are programmed to reply "Because it's going to help in the real world." Fuck that! We're sitting in these crowded classrooms learning MANDATORY lessons that the state of California thinks we need to know when there are MILLIONS and MILLIONS of children out there who would die to learn how to read and write.

So I would sit in class, and focus on the matters that are most important to me. As I wrote (in the poem), no one is really taking a strong stand for those living in poverty, in our country and others. There are non-profit organizations no doubt, but is Reducing Poverty really a priority to those living above the middle class? There isn't a Twitter that sends followers updates on the people living in poverty. Poverty doesn't have a Myspace. The image of poverty is the unrecognized population as a whole.

In the first few lines, I say "My dreams are farther that these visible stars and I see the future reflecting in the water." What I mean is that, my dreams are beyond anything we can see; they are in fact unseen. I didn't say "my future", I said "the future" because if in fact no one is brave enough to fight for those who can't fight for their selves, it will be me; my reflection in the water.

I don't like seeing the Google pictures of poverty. So this will have to do, to help believe that the many ills of this world will be reduced.


"To Whom It May Concern"

I don't write about love anymore
Because love doesn't write about me.
It seems as if love has neglected to include me in its petty poetry.
We're no longer friends and never see each other, metaphorically.
I speak of love as an enemy and no longer trust its unworthy words.
I don't write about love anymore
Because my last piece was written beautifully
But returned to spoil our unity.
A true dedication can never be rescinded
Suffice it to say those relationships have long ended.
I don't write about love anymore
But I check my mailbox everyday for a letter
Written to whom it may concern and from anonymous
With two addresses which seem to be synonymous.

I rarely write these types of poems. If you've read a lot of my stuff, you might've noticed I don't like using "end rhyme". My poetry usually involves an intricate rhyme scheme and a sexier flow. In my opinion, the end rhyme disturbs the flow as the reader is "directed" to stop after hitting the rhyme. Sometimes I just want to create something when I sit down with my notebook but my intricate poems take too long. I've been working on one for about 2 months now; this one took less than 30 minutes. You feel me? End rhyme poems are not challenging for me, so I challenge myself be creating a unique structure and polysyllable rhymes. I NEED to exhaust the full capabilities of my talent for me to fully love my work or else I feel like Baron Davis on the Clippers.
Hit me up if you'd like me to explain this poem.


Lyrics To Go.

"My femme fatale my darling fraudulent angel-
Once caught her changing her batteries in her halo,
Receipt for her wings and everything that she paid for
And the address to the factory where they made those"

-Lupe Fiasco
(Streets On Fire)

"...Bring back Arsenio.
Hip-hop was aborted,
So Nas breathes life, back into the embryo.
Let us make man in our image
Spit it, I'm Huey P in Louis V throwing Molotov for Emmit.
You aint as hot as I is;
All of these fake prophets are not messiahs
You don't know how high the sky is,
The square milage of Earth, or what pi is.
I'm the shaky hand that touched Geogre Foreman in Zaire
The same hand that punched down devils that brought down the towers"
(Queens Get The Money)


Along with the dresses, Summer also brings the sunglasses that block off half their faces, Which usually tricks us into thinking that some girls are more attractive than they really are.

Girls girls know what they're doing when they step out wearing those flimsy dresses. It's like the Summer uniform: flimsy dress, big ass "butterfly" sunglasses, big ass purses/bags, sandles and/or flats. I see them everywhere looking all fly and shit, got us all like:


That is it.


A Bond Of Trust Has Been Abused. Something Of Value May Be Lost. Give Up Your Job, Squander Your Cash-Be Rash. Just Hold Onto Your Friends.

Today means more to me than a celebration of Cinco De Mayo. Today is my best friends birthday, Alphonso Bean. I've talked about him before. Alphonso was my best friend in Elementary School. We were a pair of clowns! This was in the time of "yo-mama" jokes and all that. We were at the age where we never needed money to hang out, never thought about sex, years from college and didn't need a part-time job in retail. Our moms dropped us off at each others houses just to chill for hours or spend the night. We occasionally rode bikes around a culdesac in Cerritos and played video games, and had "best-dressed" contests at our elementary school.

I always wish he didn't have to move away. Even with Myspace And Facebook:
"Sorry, we weren’t able to find a "Alphonso Bean" on MySpace.com"
We might've been on the football team together, found jobs and even gone to the same college. High school years would've no doubt been much more fun. But now we're two separate adults with two separate lives. All I can do is hope to run into him at a gas station or movie theatre.

A relationship that is built between two without the superfluous outside forces such as girls and money will withstand when the girls and money inevitably come between them. You know what I'm saying? I NEVER admit to missing somebody but I genuinely miss Alphonso. We were boys like:

Evan: Just imagine if girls weren't weirded out by our boners and stuff, and just like, wanted to see them. That's the world I one day want to live in.

I dedicate this Blog "WhereisDedan" to my best friend Alphonso Bean.

"Hold on to your friends. Resist - or move on. Be mad, be rash
Smoke and explode. Sell all of your clothes Just bear in mind :
Oh, there just might come a time When you need some friends "

"Getting It In"


And lookin mighty fiiiiiiine.