I Ain’t Worried About A Tight Track/Beat No More–I got Infinite Beat Within

I was born in 1969

I always wanted to be a drummer. Every since I was a little boy. Beats Beat inside of me. Always have from as long as I can remember.

I have always had a love of stories, words and beats.. when combined, even more so. We talking music. 

I am a writer and spoken word artist.

When I didn’t have the money to get a drum, I used an Oatmeal Box. We talking now 4 or 5 years old. I had to beat out the rhythms inside of me. I would spend hours on my back step beating away on that Oatmeal Box. Quaker Oatmeal Box–The round one.

I got a little older, around 1977-1981, I was between the ages of 8-12. Rap music was on the scene by then…Kurtis Blow, Run DMC, Whodini, Kool Moe Dee, LL Kool J, The Jonzun Crew, Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam, Force MD’s, Roxanne Shante, The Fat Boys etc–Songs like Planet Rock, Pac Jam, Egypt, Electric Kingdom, It’s Like That & That’s The Way It Is, huh (Run DMC)….you talking Timeless Rap, I WAS ALL UP in to It…..

There was Breakdancing, Beats on a Table wt Fists Competitions, Beat Box Competitions, Boom Box Loud Contests, Clowning on Each other Competitons, Rapping Contests, Breakdancing Contests.

Geat times. Nobody was getting shot during all these fierce battles in Rap Culture. Was no Playa Hating. If you got you butt whipped in the Battle, you went home and worked hard on your craft and came back at it.

Everybody knew you was working hard on your craft with whipped behind.  You came back for more…with tighter skills. That was our version of “Thrilla in Manilla”–Muhammad Ali Style.

As a Spoken Word Artist, even in my older age, I get aggravated sometimes about not having tracks to spit my poetry over.

But guess what family?…No More. As of today 3/26/2014, no more worrying about beats to spit my poetry over.

I am going back to my younger days and the Beats Within Me…That is an Infinite Flame/Beat.

My Poems, everyone of them, has a Rhythm/A Beat of it’s on.
The Poems Writing Me. I am Not Writing Them. FROM my Pen come the Stories they are going to tell. The Good, The Bad & The Ugly.

Your Brother,

9:09 am

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