you seem familiar

photo by: kwesi abbensetts

you seem familiar

it’s you
that future i moved out of the left lane for
removed the durag that blinded my third eye for
to see the kids you always wanted
the yard they’d play in
and the boys the girls would bring home that i’d hate with all my heart
they grow up so fast
i grew up too slow
but if i had been grown for them
i wouldn’t have been able to grow with you
it’s you
i covered tattoos for you and replaced them with longer sleeves
and a name tag
threw out all my book bags
the day after christmas
the day after the briefcase and the blazers
the slacks and a car keys
the bike won’t get me to work on time
and this is something worth working for
i wear loafers now
they don’t support my arch but they support the structure you’ve designed
my architect of designs withstanding
understanding rain is necessary and this building must be strong
this building must be quake proof
and the seeds will have to wait until the building can prove itself
it’s you
i’ve planned wars and left my pen on the table next to the plans hoping you’d find them and win
i may not be strong enough to fight
but can carry anything you hand me
i’ll cut the cord but you be the first to hold her
you’ve got the whole world in your hands
that ring wasn’t placed there for vanity
that baby wasn’t placed there for weight
i can only move a block at a time
gentrify this chess board
you came my way fast
it’s you
the queen strong enough to put my kids in
the beautiful one sitting beside me on the train
it’s nice to meet you

for vanity’s sake: and ridding fears:

so i’m starting this side note in the beginning on the blog.
well…i guess it isn’t a side note – but an introduction:

i was listening to robin thick(e)’s ‘lost without you’ and i came to the conclusion that it is perhaps the most arrogant song i’ve ever heard. don’t get me wrong, i thought this years ago when i first heard it, but after not hearing it for a while and then having it come on the foxx hole – i paid more attention…and yeah…ARROGANT.
so i decided i need to talk like this to people.

“how does it feel to know that i love you?”
“touch yourself when you see me.”
“you wanna roll with me. you wanna stay warm and get out of the car with me”

feel me?

okay…side note is over.



i’m in atlanta. a city i used to hate.
not because it’s spread out with no real appeal – but because every time i would come, something insane would happen. like the one time i saw the crackhead shoot two people in the head, then set the house on fire.
yeah, i was that close to a crack house.

but – ironically – atlanta is the city that helped me overcome a slight fear.
yeah yeah yeah – i have a fear. well, two.

fear number one: going blind.

in atlanta station there’s an exhibit called “dialogue in the dark.”
you grab a blind cane, and enter into 4 rooms in complete darkness, feeling your way around with your hand and cane, using every other sense, trying to figure out where you were.
and in a group of 8, i can honestly say i would have been valedictorian had they given out grades.

but i wan’t that afraid. probably because i knew within 15 minutes i’d be back in daylight. but also because i’m the kind of guy that adapts. and that exhibit proved it.

so way to go atlanta for helping me take my two-fear count down to one.

fear #2 (only one now) – drowning.


over the past month i’ve learned a few incredible things about myself.
the most incredible being i seem to make folks insecure.
in my 20-something-odd years of life, i’ve been told many things about myself. many true – some faker than kobe’s rape apology. but over the past month i’ve had 5 people tlel me how insecure i make them feel.

and not because of things i say, but because of the way i choose to live my life: freely.

i get out all your boxes – i get out.
fuck outta here. i live like i do because i hate traffic.

the highway to nowhere is full of idiots.
this international route is much less jammed.

side note: i’ve redefined ‘idiot.’ IDIOT: someone old enough to seek the knowledge but don’t.


guiding people to the exit door of your life doesn’t always mean you love them any less. it almost always means you love yourself more.


so basically – i had nothing to write about this time – but it’ll be better next time i promise.

so i bid a good day to the thousands who are determined to make it, when the millions before them failed.

saving africa’s witch children – dear idiots:

dear tiny – toya – bet – tyler perry & the ignorant:

it’s 3:11am (at the start of this letter) – not sure what the end time will be or if it will ever come.
a few minutes ago i decided to dedicate the next 49 minutes of my time to watching this documentary on HBO titled:
saving african’s witch children. a documentary about the children throughout african who have been branded witches by their loved ones and killed, mutilated, banished – all in the name of jesus.


side note: this is what happens when you introduce greed into a society – then force religion onto the now greedy.

i just watched a little boy get delivered to a false prophet, laid out as the false prophet poured some sort of blinding liquid into his eyes so he may not see the good people coming his way ever again, therefore he can cause no harm.
are you kidding me? naw, it’s no joke, i know. that question was hypothetical.

where do you come in, you’re probably asking me.

i mean, as irrelevant as i wish you were, i find you relevant at this hour.
i know too many people who will never understand the importance of helping these children because you’ve given this fictional lives to believe in. you’ve used your powers for evil. YOU, my fictional characters and coon, are the witches.

my sister is a child of a bubble. the television company providing cable inside of her bubble only broadcasts networks showing the shit to which you’ve contributed.
let me say this to you: there is a high price to pay for those using their power and talents to feed garbage to the people. the price i’d like each of you to pay if out of my hands, but these prayers may help.

every so often i ask myself what i’d say when i have the world listening.
i have no clue. i may remain quiet. but i will not throw bubblegum into the crowd, smile, and share with them my dreams of opening another nail shop in atlanta (i’m sure there are enough there).

i digress:

i need a f*cking needled. these bubbles need to be popped.
the children of the children had children who are now fucking.
the bubbles they will live in need to be condemned.

what is the difference between BET & a crack house? (serious question – because i have no answer).

i’m writing to make changes. i’m calling to make changes. i’m marching, changing minds, educating & enlightening to make changes.
i want to save my sister’s life to make changes.

but i don’t want to do it alone.
but i will.

find me.

Pissed Again – May Write More Later & Ready To See Change,

Darnell Lamont Walker

slightly fucked up: poem 30

30 poems in 30 days
day 30: june 14, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

slightly fucked up

it’s slightly fucked up to say god slings dick
but i’m slightly fucked up
the vodka ain’t yet take effect
and i’m eating skittles attempting to taste the rainbows on mars
in search of space from fallen queens
attempting to get drained by the fallen stars
there ain’t no life on mars
just existence
much like this bullshit planet the aliens never visit
i’m chillin’
i’m teaching the children of idiots that god’s within
somewhere near my kidneys with a chalice of gin
yeah that’s him

i’m so slightly fucked up
i find it difficult to hold on to a field nigger thought with a house nigger education
but i maintain

i’m getting high on shit manufactured by eli lilly’s people
it’s been growing in the back yard in the shadows of the steeple
the reason this church is so popular

kill the preacher
kill the preacher
he lies
he didn’t tell her everything
she never learned to look for the god within properly
and crucified the boy when he did so
she never recognized god on that bench
with that bitch
and his hand on his dick
she never learned that shit

the vodka’s kicking in
the pills are kicking in
the skittles and the rainbows
the god and his gin
my fucking kidneys hurt
my liver’s on his way out
i’m selling unicorns on pluto
with not one nigga you know

yeah i’m too far gone
space ain’t what i needed
just a few milligrams of some crazy shit and a bed
knuckles deep in her kitchen
asking venus for head

Pirates Of The…Something

Dear Whomever Wants To Listen(Read, Really):

At risk of sounding like a hater of many things, I’m writing this letter. Ironically, I’m writing to Otis Redding’s “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long (To Stop Now).” Prayerfully, I don’t have to explain irony to you.

I spent the better half of 4am Thursday June 10, 2010 planning a revolution. Perhaps one that will never happen knowing the track record of the people I’d be recruiting. But planning nonetheless. In my head I’ve already freed Mumia and brought Assata home safely and untouched. Knowing the source of my tension headache and why I’m beginning to hate overpaid entertainers and athletes(who have nothing to do with this letter), I knew where this planning was heading.

Why, for fucks sake, is BP ordered to pay only $69million for their role in blackening the gulf, putting in danger the lives of what once lived in the waters, and those who relied on that water for life, while Limewire, the media sharing program from which many of use have downloaded countless hours of Joe Cocker, Lil Wayne, porn and dancing cats, may be ordered to pay upwards of one billion dollars, perhaps more, for their role in keeping the pockets of artists to a minimum. Fuck the artists, give Limewire a slap on the wrist, a pat on the ass and keep it moving.

God forbid there’s a program out there that keeps the artists’ pockets not as fat as they rap them to be. God forbid america (written in lowercase letters to show current disrespectful mood) reprimands a company currently keeping politicians on payroll. In the words of Ed Lover: GTFOHWTBS!

Once the oil is cleaned up, and the fish, birds and sea creatures have been brought back to life miraculously by the powers that be and the magic man on the mountain, what happens? When Limewire shuts down and we can no longer steal the music that isn’t worth buying, what then?

Pack the cars full of dead fish, Crisco, petrol and a book of matches and meet me at your closest BP station. Make sure your internet bill is paid, you have the utorrent program and download your shit from:

Damnit. Dear Readers: I think I’ve gotten off track. The point I’m trying to make is this: The government, with their crooked employees, and the companies owned by the same fuckers, have shown their blatant disrespect for the people, and something must be done. They’re playing the role of the college President that allows the football team to murder, smuggle and rape while the average students get expelled for spitting on the sidewalk. Dear Whoever Is In Charge: you remind me of my undergraduate institution’s current president.

And in closing: fuck you artist pissed off at the world for pirating your music. When you use your talents to feed the people garbage, there is a high price to pay. For the amount of money you claim to earn, I think your risk of death should be greater. Each time you get paid, I’d like you to meet me. Bring a blindfold, and a witness.

Fucking Mad and In Love With Old School Music and Free Hip Hop,

Darnell Lamont Walker

there’s something about…

i’ve been slacking on the blog, doing a little bit of living.
making sure my timeline and inbox are full of invitations and “let’s kick it” requests.

so – if you’ve been keeping up with jones, you’d know i’m now located in new yawk city again.
there’s something about getting home at 7:30am each morning that i love.

there’s something about:
-rooftop parties in brooklyn and house parties in harlem
-the lake in central park at 3am
-tito’s hookah bar in the lower east side
-the village creperie
-catching the sunrise off the f.d.r. in alphabet city
-the thai spot on sheridan
-standing in front of madison square garden eating street meat thinking of the jay z concert you have yet to catch there
-the conversations with @projectbarbipr & A.S. & @OnMyOwnBeat & the random folks with great taste who love my cologne

who wouldnt want to live there?


there’s something about the wind blowing cool air at night in DC that makes me want to do better in life.
and that’s not to be mistaken with me doing not-so-great now.
i fxcking love my life right now…but when the cool air comes through the screen window in SE DC i know that things are going to be alright.


my doctor called me and told me i could die at any minute if i don’t start taking the medicine that thins my blood out to prevent blood clots.

i mean – i take my medicine – but sometimes i don’t.
and it’s selfish of me, i know, so i’m going to start.

but in the event that i die:

it isn’t a bad thing. inconvenient (but only as much as going to the gas station or bathroom), but not bad. i did it big!

but i’ll be taking the stupid a** medication.

damn, there’s the breeze again.


i want to say this and be done:

there is a special bond you form with those you’ve been to hell and back with.
i know this because i pledged.
the bond i have with my brothers is a bond that is damn near unmatched.

that being said, it bogles my mind how those who have not walked to hell with me (us) think they can be placed higher on the priority list.

the end.

i’m thinking of writing a book about the art of lying.
i want to do a section on those who lie & how that lie should be exposed by those lied to.

1. listen to the lie.
2. confirm that it is a lie.
3. accept it as truth.
4. lose massive amount of respect for the liar.
5. devise plans to TAKEN ‘EM OUT piece by piece.
6. smile in their face.


body update:


i’ve brought my first pair of sneakers in the last 7 years.
crazy right.

now i’m a sneaker lover.


there’s a ice cream sandwich calling my name through the door of the freezer.
so i’m going to wrap this blog up a bit.

so, peace folks.
keep up with me.