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Rahsaan Ali

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Member Since: May, 2009

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Black Bastard
By Rahsaan Ali
Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Rated "R" by the Author.

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Pardon, readers. I tried deletion the redundancy of paragraphs but could not.

 

                                       BLACK BASTARD
                                         _________________
 
I was ten years old when my moms gave my grandmother custody of me. She liked to run the streets, party, and drink too much. Sometimes she’d leave during the day and I wouldn’t see her until the next day but I didn’t care. I’d just stay up all night watching the late show. Shit. Every once in a while I’d sip on one of her half filled cans of Miller beer with my feet up. The times she did come in at night she’d be so drunk she’d just flop by my side on the couch and lay her head in my lap. I remember stroking her long black hair. It was dark and silky and would glisten whenever the light hit it. She was pretty. She was my mother. She’s not here anymore because her wild-style ways was just as destructive as graffiti written on the wall. So, it was no shock when the third rail of life’s wrong track, spit on her soul and beat her down in the street.     
 
                                                             
                                                ____________
 
                                    Ohhhh, baby, Gotta get you home
                                                With me tonight
                                                Oh, Oh
                                    Ohhhh, baby, Gotta get you home
                                                With me tonight”
 
            Music vibrated against our tenth floor apartment door as I stepped out of the elevator from school. I turned the knob and pushed. It was latched at the top from the inside. I had to pee and the music was playing so loud my knocks went unheard. I began pounding it until the latch detached and the door flung open inwardly.
 
                        “Boy. What’s the matter with you? You running from the police or something,” my mother smiled as the door opened. 
                  BLACK BASTARD
                                         _________________
 
I was ten years old when my moms gave my grandmother custody of me. She liked to run the streets, party, and drink too much. Sometimes she’d leave during the day and I wouldn’t see her until the next day but I didn’t care. I’d just stay up all night watching the late show. Shit. Every once in a while I’d sip on one of her half filled cans of Miller beer with my feet up. The times she did come in at night she’d be so drunk she’d just flop by my side on the couch and lay her head in my lap. I remember stroking her long black hair. It was dark and silky and would glisten whenever the light hit it. She was pretty. She was my mother. She’s not here anymore because her wild-style ways was just as destructive as graffiti written on the wall. So, it was no shock when the third rail of life’s wrong track, spit on her soul and beat her down in the street.     
 
                                                             
                                                ____________
 
                                    Ohhhh, baby, Gotta get you home
                                                With me tonight
                                                Oh, Oh
                                    Ohhhh, baby, Gotta get you home
                                                With me tonight”
 
            Music vibrated against our tenth floor apartment door as I stepped out of the elevator from school. I turned the knob and pushed. It was latched at the top from the inside. I had to pee and the music was playing so loud my knocks went unheard. I began pounding it until the latch detached and the door flung open inwardly.
 
                        “at’s the matter with you? You running from the police or something,” my mother smiled as the door opened. 
                  BLACK BASTARD
                                         _________________
 
I was ten years old when my moms gave my grandmother custody of me. She liked to run the streets, party, and drink too much. Sometimes she’d leave during the day and I wouldn’t see her until the next day but I didn’t care. I’d just stay up all night watching the late show. Shit. Every once in a while I’d sip on one of her half filled cans of Miller beer with my feet up. The times she did come in at night she’d be so drunk she’d just flop by my side on the couch and lay her head in my lap. I remember stroking her long black hair. It was dark and silky and would glisten whenever the light hit it. She was pretty. She was my mother. She’s not here anymore because her wild-style ways was just as destructive as graffiti written on the wall. So, it was no shock when the third rail of life’s wrong track, spit on her soul and beat her down in the street.     
 
                                                             
                                                ____________
 
                                    Ohhhh, baby, Gotta get you home
                                                With me tonight
                                                Oh, Oh
                                    Ohhhh, baby, Gotta get you home
                                                With me tonight”
 
            Music vibrated against our tenth floor apartment door as I stepped out of the elevator from school. I turned the knob and pushed. It was latched at the top from the inside. I had to pee and the music was playing so loud my knocks went unheard. I began pounding it until the latch detached and the door flung open inwardly.
 
                        “Boy. What’s the matter with you? You running from the police or something,” my mother smiled as the door opened. 
                  BLACK BASTARD
                                         _________________
 
I was ten years old when my moms gave my grandmother custody of me. She liked to run the streets, party, and drink too much. Sometimes she’d leave during the day and I wouldn’t see her until the next day but I didn’t care. I’d just stay up all night watching the late show. Shit. Every once in a while I’d sip on one of her half filled cans of Miller beer with my feet up. The times she did come in at night she’d be so drunk she’d just flop by my side on the couch and lay her head in my lap. I remember stroking her long black hair. It was dark and silky and would glisten whenever the light hit it. She was pretty. She was my mother. She’s not here anymore because her wild-style ways was just as destructive as graffiti written on the wall. So, it was no shock when the third rail of life’s wrong track, spit on her soul and beat her down in the street.     
 
                                                             
                                                ____________
 
                                    Ohhhh, baby, Gotta get you home
                                                With me tonight
                                                Oh, Oh
                                    Ohhhh, baby, Gotta get you home
                                                With me tonight”
 
            Music vibrated against our tenth floor apartment door as I stepped out of the elevator from school. I turned the knob and pushed. It was latched at the top from the inside. I had to pee and the music was playing so loud my knocks went unheard. I began pounding it until the latch detached and the door flung open inwardly.
 
                        “Boy. What’s the matter with you? You running from the police or something,” my mother smiled as the door opened. 
                  BLACK BASTARD
                                         _________________
 
I was ten years old when my moms gave my grandmother custody of me. She liked to run the streets, party, and drink too much. Sometimes she’d leave during the day and I wouldn’t see her until the next day but I didn’t care. I’d just stay up all night watching the late show. Shit. Every once in a while I’d sip on one of her half filled cans of Miller beer with my feet up. The times she did come in at night she’d be so drunk she’d just flop by my side on the couch and lay her head in my lap. I remember stroking her long black hair. It was dark and silky and would glisten whenever the light hit it. She was pretty. She was my mother. She’s not here anymore because her wild-style ways was just as destructive as graffiti written on the wall. So, it was no shock when the third rail of life’s wrong track, spit on her soul and beat her down in the street.     
 
                                                             
                                                ____________
 
                                    Ohhhh, baby, Gotta get you home
                                                With me tonight
                                                Oh, Oh
                                    Ohhhh, baby, Gotta get you home
                                                With me tonight”
 
            Music vibrated against our tenth floor apartment door as I stepped out of the elevator from school. I turned the knob and pushed. It was latched at the top from the inside. I had to pee and the music was playing so loud my knocks went unheard. I began pounding it until the latch detached and the door flung open inwardly.
 
                        “Boy. What’s the matter with you? You running from the police or something,” my mother smiled as the door opened. 
                  BLACK BASTARD
                                         _________________
 
I was ten years old when my moms gave my grandmother custody of me. She liked to run the streets, party, and drink too much. Sometimes she’d leave during the day and I wouldn’t see her until the next day but I didn’t care. I’d just stay up all night watching the late show. Shit. Every once in a while I’d sip on one of her half filled cans of Miller beer with my feet up. The times she did come in at night she’d be so drunk she’d just flop by my side on the couch and lay her head in my lap. I remember stroking her long black hair. It was dark and silky and would glisten whenever the light hit it. She was pretty. She was my mother. She’s not here anymore because her wild-style ways was just as destructive as graffiti written on the wall. So, it was no shock when the third rail of life’s wrong track, spit on her soul and beat her down in the street.     
 
                                                             
                                                ____________
 
                                    Ohhhh, baby, Gotta get you home
                                                With me tonight
                                                Oh, Oh
                                    Ohhhh, baby, Gotta get you home
                                                With me tonight”
 
            Music vibrated against our tenth floor apartment door as I stepped out of the elevator from school. I turned the knob and pushed. It was latched at the top from the inside. I had to pee and the music was playing so loud my knocks went unheard. I began pounding it until the latch detached and the door flung open inwardly.
 
                        “Boy. What’s the matter with you? You running from the police or something,” my mother smiled as the door opened. 
 

       Web Site: rahsaanali

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