Ri$k TaKer$

So I was messin' around in the studio with my horn, and this piece kinda came out.  If you're offended by it, great, comments are always welcome!

I’m your risk taker.

Beat breaker when the light’s shut off,

and generators turn on;

no pawn in water’s piranha;

kickin’ Rihanna’s heels

high in the atmosphere.

You don’t feel this here,

because it ain’t near

happy hour.

Showers of beer off the pier,

as your peer holds

your baby daughter dear;

never in headlights

in midnights, we take flight

to avoid fights in

Neverland.

Captain Hook took a stand,

now he’s collecting shells

at Sandy Hook.

Shook in shadows

fellows never settle for second best,

as the rest cry

gun control.

Out of Saddam’s hole

Trump emerges,

toupee splurges hair into the air,

now we got

a whole new meme it seems,

off right wing Republican dreams.

Nightmare for Mexican docs

while the

gun totin’, cousin fuckin’ Americans

plot the next stop of money’s stockpile.

Big banks pocketed

Hiliary’s shit-stained, panty-pile

while refusing to

get it clean.

America in 2016,

as white folks spin

24 hour news about

White House guest

use,

of the N word

on national tv.

Repeated on YouTube

we need a boob, to pop out

at the NBA playoffs

so old men can jack off

to yet, another

Black Beauty.

As everyone cries

duty and detriment,

but Bernie’s got the

plan of prosperity;

too bad this ain’t no

utopian society—

Or we’d give him

the key to every city…

And shut the water off in Flint,

as poison is sent

to the bones of the future.

No failure in political systems,

because ain’t no old white men

being strung up

from their power ties.

Ain’t no one tired

of the ole lies,

old wise white women

taught us in school.

I’ll be that fool

who takes the risk

of spittin’ this.

If you would like to hear me spit this, hit the soundcloud:  https://soundcloud.com/poet402/rik-taker

It

It was the mad ranting of unstable individuals scribbled on shit smeared and tile chipped walls of the subway station.  It was present as balding Russians, hopped up on pills and whiskey stumble by; reeking of alcohol, reminiscent to the odor of fecal matter in the air.  Genderless and strapped for sex on a swing, it begged for the lashes of a leather whip flung from the hands of an available lover.  Sound spiking shrills from crowded dive bars was it’s lullaby, Tuesday through Thursday. 

Carnal and massive was it’s appetite for raw onions.  It loved the way exhibitionist

would wear the hot onion rings on hard penises like wedding bands, or clung to erect nipples of Native belly dancers during the spring.  It was fire dances an lion tamers, untamed by the rigors of 9-5 living, living off the perspiration of perpetual failure, attempting to rise from guttural abuses.  It admired the feel of red satan scarves wrapped around it’s neck as oxygen became a premium, and the crowd watched un-amazed and uninspired.  

It admonished at it’s left arm, near the wrist, which held the cigarette scar it received as a toddler.  Being free always includes a price.  Gratitude was a luxury and falsehood; jagged and rough unlike that of the rim of a shot glass.  Scorned in the general public it learned to scowl instead of smile, cry instead of laugh, and love was a foreign city light years away from present location.  Silence became it’s best enemy providing solace, depression and subtle plans of grand endings.   

Getting Stronger in the New Year (New News, New Poem, New Video)

So the new year has put January to rest, however, rest is not something I'm accustomed to.  In light of that, I've been quite busy.  For starters, I've finished my second manuscript and it will be published by Esquire Publications, here's a link!  And if you haven't seen the cover, here you go.

So as I am very proud of this work, I am not done.  I'm working on an additional spoken word project, and writing almost daily.

In honor of all these inspirational juices that are flowing, I'm keeping with the trend of doing exclusive video-poems and only posting them right here.  Nope, you won't catch it on my facebook or anywhere else...you gotta come to Doodle With My Poodle!!

I hope you all enjoyed the first video poem I posted for the new year, and I hope you enjoy this one as well.  It's been a labor of love which involved me getting back to my piano/keyboard roots, which sprouted this poem.

My apologies for not having the lyrics here, but honestly, I was really feeling the music more than I was the poem.
--I am an amateur musician you know....

So I hope you're able to get a good feel for this, as I really was in a spot to do not only the music, but the poem, and the video as well.  I hope you read this, watch the video, listen to the song, and leave me a comment.  I'm curious to know how it hits you---if it does at all.

I think I'll leave it at this, so you all can check out the video.  Giving Thanks for all the support you've been honoring me with!

New Year, Same '16 Issues; Poem, Video

So Merry belated Christmas, Kwanzaa, Hanakkuah, and New Years!  I believe that covers it.  So all those holidays were good and productive for me.  And thank you for all your support throughout 2015, it was because of you, I called that year a success.

However, today, I got in a creative mode, stepped in the studio, and started working on some music.  Now as any ex-girlfriend, or current lady-friend will tell you, if I get in there, and don't come out for 10 or 12 minutes, then the night's a wrap--I'm projecting.

In this case, I started working blankly on some music to accompany my saxophone--however, it didn't turn out that way.  I started feeling the music, and that led me to writing some poetry.  As the poem began to take form, something in me began to awaken.  The activist in me started it's morning yawn, and routine, taking over my pen and the pad.  It was exhilarating!  So after I wrote the poem, I recorded it.  Then while listening to it, I became enthralled and found it needed something visual--so I did a video as well!

It's been a crazy first day of the year, but a good one, one that was needed creatively.  So below I've posted the poem (in written form) as well as the video via YouTube.  It's me, the activist me, the, Black like me, me. So if race, racism, riots, police brutality, #BlackLivesMatter, #SayHerName, bothers you, you can gladly move on to another post, which is not so…shall we say inspired.  But for those who need to know that Black people are still fighting, still struggling, still battling this institutional white supremacist system--sit back and listen, sit back and read, then get the hell up, repost it, so we all can get in the fight!

--Ashe'

New Year, Same ’16 Issues

We turn a new page

for a new chance at,

365 ways.

Waves flowin’, mind goin’

on what we need to do;

single Mama

out there in them streets—

protestin’.

Daddies with Molotov cocktails

out there too.

For the last couple of years

it’s been rough,

if your skin is brown,

and you call america home.

Ain’t no justice,

from the Atlantic to the Pacific,

we strappin’ up our babies

with the chrome.

Because the cell phone

with the movie app

ain’t keepin’ em safe—

Cops is killin’ us

left and right,

while the grand juries remindin’,

what matters,

is your race.

They use to say,

give us your tired,

your poor, your hungry,

and a way, we’ll surely find.

But somehow that message

got stuck in the gears,

and now it’s like—

never-mind.

Never-mind yo’

presidential candidate,

wants to round up all the Muslims

while, the other one is

bought by big business.

We might get our

first woman president,

but by the

end of her first term,

there might not be

any of us.

So this is the dream,

this is, Sweet 16;

Feels more like a porno-scene,

and some,

big dick just creamed

all over our lips, and we

don’t get a shot,

to enjoy any of it.

And if you cringe

by the choice of my words,

just leave your local suburb,

and follow your favorite officer

and watch him shoot

some poor, defenseless Black soul,

then, leave ‘em on the curb.

‘Cause this is happenin’,

every single day, in every single hood;

while the courts are no good,

they ain’t slappin’ any wood

for any

guilty, crooked cops…

We been in this spot

while politicians ain’t doin nothin’

to stop,

the institutionalized, white supremacist

shot!

© 2016 C. Barbee