Omega Psi Phi Fraternity, Inc.

I remember when your tongue was too embarrassed to meet on vertical affectual exchanges or maybe I was just too forward and my tongue had other intentions, but just to hear the laughter I would concoct stories of Homeric value to captivate your interest if only for a moment. And my mind would linger on the thought of your shadow that would allude me in a thick forest of roses and cherry blossoms, where I had lain down my weapons and armor and exposed myself, but I fell into a sea of sailing which I created, or he created, or will create. Luckily I can swim, but with water so clear and so sorrowful I could not see the bottom, but I would put them in a bottle and save it for later. Back on Earth, I stood next to you, I stood behind you, I stood next to you, I stood in front of you, and you didn’t notice me. Not until I sat next to you on rides upward to short to decipher the eons and epochs in your eyes or to measure the length of your legs. I wanted you. It was so hard to stand still as people and sunlight pass me from East to… West, from East to… West, from East to West ready to reset itself and this was to indeed be your season. On late nights of Doritos and beef sticks the air was too hot and thick to sustain the chastity of youth and the order was given to assault the pure fountains and pluck the gardens. Ones that I desecrated with extreme malice and I stripped you of the golden rings that you finally pulled for yourself… and you wept, and I laughed, which made your head shake in agreement, in discourse. I lay in your glory, this undiscovered isle of fruit and wonder, made me a pure virgin again, a child. The unseen waters gathered on my chin, and left trails on cheeks of rose and chocolate, or caramel. Red and brown soft all over to Mario’s braid my hair smoking a cigarette that was minus the nicotine and plus the THC and you told me that I was your first, even though the silk sheets slid under you the crushed roses left no stains, but I was your first you said, and I believed you… then we would study and make love on mattresses that only had room for you and me and love, in the green glare from the stereo track 2 or John Legend track 11 so high. This is where you dress me in your father’s pants and hat only to pretend. We tried to enter the suite, but it was only for lovers only and we were still just too young, to play with the glass chess pieces of the living room coffee table, in the living room with the white furniture and the white carpet and walls which were all untouchable, and too tall to climb, all we could do was watch and wait until someone gestured to us to come in briefly, first my mother, and then your mother reluctantly agreed, but summers would prove too long for us and I succumbed to temptation once or twice before the day of freedom which was my first anniversary, but not our anniversary, a toast was given to days of solitude where the strawberry wine flowed as the Nile that led to Cleopatra, for whom I wage war, on land and on sea. I still have the two arrows lodged in my heart, damn the winged baby, damn the Harpies and the nymphs, and the Sirens that cause my blood to boil to run hot. And here we are back to front, front to back for the night again, proving that the spoon does exist on planes of blankets and fitted sheets and pillows and roses, with staff in hand I parted rosy seas to salvation, I clothed you in strawberries and snakeskin, but you refused to allow yourself to be captured on canvases smaller than the sky, the paint streaked paths to your feet, sunken already to become the ground, your blossoms always smelled the sweetest, so I picked the cherries and the strawberries and threw them onto the white walls and white furniture and glass chess pieces, making them a little more juvenile, and buying us a little more time… for a change.

© 2008 Chester Stoney III

On a street corner on a warm summer evening. On the stage is the bottom and middle section of a street lamp in the middle of the stage and a mailbox to the right. A store sign in the back reads “Kim’s Pharmacy”.

All of the main lights are out and the only character on the stage is MAC. A yellow spotlight is focused on him and nothing else. He has his hood pulled over his head, so that you can’t see his face.

MAC
… Every hood needs me… I’m your neighborhood dope boy, pusher man, snow man, or whatever. You can call me subwoofer, because I pump base like that, Jack. From ghetto to ghetto, backyard to the hills. I am a door to door salesman, hustle day and night. I feed the habit of the masses; all of Reagan’s children know me. I scratch their itch. They want it; I got it by the kilo. Always serving drinks on the rocks and baking soda included. Man I got some shit that’ll have you waking up in a zoo after fucking a zebra, wondering if it’s black with white stripes or white with black stripes. You wonder if it will call you the next day and what would your parents think if you came home with a zebra……what I’m tryna say is that I am needed. I provide a wonderful service for the streets. And people will always need me so I’ll never go away.
(All of the lights turn on fully illuminating the set)

MAC
(Calling out) I got that fire, I got that fire. Come and get it. Come on and get served.

JAY
(Offstage) Negro quit yellin’
(MAC pulls out his gun and hides behind the light pole that clearly offers no invisibility)

MAC
(Voice cracks a little) Yo who’s that, I meant (Clears his throat, Manly) Yo who’s that

JAY
(deepens his voice) Officer Dan bitch, get on the ground!

MAC
Ya’ll always messin’ with me. (Drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his head)
(JAY comes onto the stage laughing, holding a basketball in his hand and pointing at MAC)

JAY
(Laughing) Now spread your cheeks and lift your sack!

MAC
What?

JAY
(Laughing harder) Get up you little punk beotch. Man, it’s me Jay, and put that little ass gun away before you hurt somebody.

MAC
Oh, nigga I was just playing along with ya juvinile ass, and that shit ain’t funny. (Put his gun back in his pants and dusts himself off) Anyway, Jay you was fittin’ to get delt with, fooling with a gangster like me.

JAY
Mac you wasn’t gonna shoot nobody, so quit playin’

MAC
Negro, you need to cut all that sneaky sneaky shit out too, you know dem boys be out. They got my nerves all jittery and what not.

JAY
“Dem Boys”?

MAC
Yeah man, dem boys…police stupid… man 5-0… retard.

JAY
Police? Mac the only cop that comes around this block is senile old Officer Dan. And besides, niggas only scared of Officer Dan because he can’t see, but he be bustin caps all crazy and shit like a retirement home Rambo. He hits people’s car and don’t care cause people around here don’t call the cops.

MAC
Yeah, he crazy as hell. He came through here the other day on that LAPD tip, Rodney King, beat a brother down shit. His old ass held me on the ground, slapping me in the back of the head hollering and shit at me… and shit. He said something about me being “Nino Brown”-

JAY
From “New Jack City”?

MAC
Yeah nigga (JAY starts laughing) it ain’t funny man that stuff was scary as hell. His old fat ass falling asleep while he tryna ream me my rights. I said to him “dumbass I’m not Wesley Snipes.” Apparently I’m now the blackest nigga in on the block.

JAY
Yo I can’t fool with no Officer Dan.

MAC
That’s cause youz a chump school boy. Shouldn’t you be somewhere studying like a good boy. Jay this ain’t you. (Spreads his arms out wide) The streets ain’t for you, your not built for it.

JAY
Really Mac? You just mad cause I can hoop son, and when you here five years later I’m gonna call you from my private jet on the way to play the bulls and say “what’s up beotch!”

MAC
Yo let me see the rock and I’ma show you how to do this son. (takes the ball from JAY and starts to clumsily dribble as if it were his first time)

JAY
Yo you look like a pre-schooler kid, let me get that back before you hurt yourself or look more ridiculous. (reaches out for the ball)

MAC
Man fuck this ball! (throws the ball off stage right as FLIP enters stage left carrying a fishbowl) I can buy a million of those boy, don’t worry (MAC pulls out a wad of cash) Anyway here come some more money now.

FLIP
Whats up Jay, pimpin’, (shakes JAY’s hand) Sup Mac (singing) daddy, young scrappy, keeps the rock on and makes me happy.

MAC
What you want?

FLIP
(crackish) Look baby all I need is a little taste to get me through the night.

MAC
Nigga how much you got.

FLIP
Look player pimp, all I got on me is two bottle caps and this fishbowl that belonged to my grandmammy.

MAC
Fool you gonna have to better than that, get the hell outta here before I whop your ass.
(FLIP runs off stage right)

JAY
You cold man, you could’ve just given him the stuff.

MAC
I can’t just be givin’ away product, shit aint no handouts in this business. I got principles.

JAY
What principles? Nigga all you do is sale base to base-heads day in and day out. You only travel from your mom’s house to this corner and back again. Nigga you pathetic, for real.

MAC
Man what you say?

JAY
I said that you are a joke, and you aint never gonna be shit

MAC
Motherfucker say something else and I’ma-
(FLIP enter from the right carrying JAY’s basketball)

FLIP
(singing) Looky what I got, looky what I got.

JAY
Yo Flip that’s my ball son.

MAC
Nah. It’s my ball now.
(OFFICER DAN creeps onto the stage from left gun drawn)

DAN
All you motherfuckers freeze right now. (walks over to the group) I finally got you bastards. And you too Nino Brown.

MAC
I’m not Nin-

DAN
Shut the hell up. (shoots MAC in the butt, MAC falls and starts crying) Not so tough are you now buddy. Now listen up, I’m taking you boys downtown for a little Q & A and I don’t want no backtalk ya hear? Big lipped motherfuckers, all three of you… hold on, Jay, son is that you.

JAY
Yeah Pop Pop.

MAC & FLIP
Pop Pop?

DAN
Jay here’s my grandson. Boy get your ass home before I call your mama and she puts her foot in your ass.

JAY
Ok Pop Pop. (turns to MAC) Peace bitch. (grabs the ball and runs offstage)

DAN
As for you boys, ya’ll gonna have some fun with the boys in lockup tonight. (laughs)

MAC & FLIP
MAMA NOOOOO!!!

Scene...


© 2008 Chester Stoney III

For a Change

Change…change… can anyone spare some change
Oh you, my black brother, can I get some change,
Or you sir or madam can you spare some change,
My life for some change,
My rights for some change,
My days for some change,
My nights for a change.

Can anyone spare some change
Seems like change comes sparingly these days
of change, be it subtle or radical, call it change,
some subtle change spare, how sparse spare change
can be, give me change,
any change, any amout of change will do,
whether it changes me, does it bring change in you?

Change, change some spare for a change
Change, strange no change? Spare some change?
Some change
Spare change
Change Spare
Spare some

If you are to spare some change, will change come?
Has any change spared some soul from a gutter?
Will anyone have some change spare for you?

© 2008 Chester Stoney III

Debts

Weak, weary from life long Luggage, that
which grasps to its host in journey across river
banks , water creation by moon melody arcs above,
never touching her mind, which had ascended
long, long ago, how language fails-

To change her values, with the orange furs,
And the juices used to exhaust bad dreams,
How she has sealed her own gate of fate,
How she bares these awful burdens alone,
This is the charge given by self endowed
selfishness .

her slippery voyage will endure, as the snow
falls, to insure her winter season leaves an inspiring
damage effect on the slate of her soul.
She will call for death and he will surely answer,
With a stern face and that cold cold blade.

© 2008 Chester Stoney III

To Evoke a Thought

Oh muse, oh muse,
Or some inspiration from divine,
Guide my hand to print praises of the finest
How can a man paint pictures through scribe?
Painting with the same colors that we do,
Yet he uses them in a different form, different shades
And hues, places thing where we dare not tread,
For it is not the normal, thoughts lay outside box.
This question of celestial existence, considered beaten and
Dead, but with a breath becomes fresh and new.
He is the artist, with a question.
He is the thinker, without a guide.
He is the logician, which answers himself.
He is the well, which dives deeper than the vastest ocean and the darkest pit.
God laughs at his words, hoping that his insight will affect the world,
Only if our minds were open,
Diseased from common logic,
Internal visions stored in lockboxes to hide the individual.
Oh muse, oh muse
Is this enough, can not the page extend so the message can be read?

© 2008 Chester Stoney III

He walks through Boundaries
(-after Etheridge Knight)
By Chester Stoney

He walks through boundaries
of social designation, degradation.
He has the ability within
mind to escape confines of doubt
and reasoning. In house of broken
glass and broken dreams he sees
skies of milk and honey, over an empty stomach.

Bags under his eyes
form to carry tears too
heavy to stay inside.
It rains as he cries.

His dreams are not my dreams,
but I have seen him
in dreams dreamt, now and then

he reads to me- young and eager
from a book of history, of dreams
teaches me how to escape
to release from the chains
to lead my people
to wash my hands of hate
instilled in me
over years.

Now his children rest in toe
bright smiles, glare and warm
his heart, and dreams
load is lightened
with each story, and
each memory
laughter removing worn-
out troubles
he stares
he escapes
the world the chains
he has the ability of mind
he walks through boundaries.

© 2008 Chester Stoney III