Introductory Post

Hello, Dear Reader.

If you’ve gone through the minor hassle of logging onto this site, then it’s my mission—yes, my doggone mission—to make sure your eyes and lust for humor keep on coming back for more.

And, first off, let’s get this out of the way, let’s set the record straight. No need of me blowing smoke up anybody’s ass. This blog is specifically purposed twofold. Yes, I do plan to keep you entertained weekly with a post I’ll upload here every Monday about how it used to go down under the tree. However, this blog is also purposed as a springboard to launch my other work. While in prison I focused my efforts on making the best of a bad situation by penning my debut fiction novel, No Loose Ends, of which I will put in the air in due time. I also completed several chapters of a second novel, entitled Sex Fiends while writing (and this is no lie) well over 800 poems, some of which will be included in a poetry collection I plan to release shortly, entitled My Skeletons Are Yours Too.

       Now, somewhere in the back of my mind I keep hearing a homie saying, “So what the fuck you gon’ blog about, nigga? Fuck ya poetry! Tell us whussup wit this here blog!” Well, what you, Dear Reader, will find in this blog site is the realness of the ‘hood painted with fictional strokes of genius. Because, the fact of the matter is, my ‘hood is your ‘hood. I see my Melbourne in every New Orleans 5th Ward, every Orlando, Daytona, Miami, Compton, Southside of Chicago, Brooklyn, Baltimore, Watts, Houston, East St. Louis, etc. There is always that one hangout spot in every ‘hood where the homies go to unwind or find out what’s the latest word in the street, where they go to shoot dice, sell dope, buy dope, get drunk, crack jokes or just to sit back and watch damn fools do what the hell they do best. In my ‘hood that place used to be underneath the tree in my older cousin Big Saul’s yard.

And although this happening spot is no longer in existence, the memories of it remain just as fresh, hot and tingly in my mind as Will Smith’s handprint on Chris Rock’s cheek. Frankly, the substance of this blog will basically be the offspring that would come to life if Ice Cube’s hit movie “Barbershop” was to lay down in bed with Aaron McGruder’s hit animated sitcom “Boondocks” and fuck nonstop. Yeah, that hot, sweaty, nasty kinda fuckin we all yearn for. It’s here for you: the gossip, the trash-talking, the joke-cracking, the drama, the drunks, the drugs of my ‘hood, your ‘hood, all our ‘hoods, being crammed altogether in a gooky mush and told the Melbourne, Florida way.

Enough said. Tune in every Monday, my Dear Reader, grab a milk crate, sit down, pop open a cold beer, and enjoy the mayhem.

—Chain Gang Poet