updated 1:38 PM UTC, Jan 24, 2013
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DV "Domestic Violence"

MJJ_R.I.P._Im_SO_SADThe other day I walked into a cute little clothing store in my neighborhood.  When I walked inside I was immediately asked by the salesperson to give my opinion about a dress that a customer was trying on.  I told the customer that the dress looked great on her and that I was hating a little bit because she was in such great shape.

The woman looked at herself in the mirror, danced around a bit, and then decided to buy the dress. The salesperson then turned in my direction and asked if there was anything that she could help me with. She was a pretty woman, shorter than me, medium brown complexion, short black hair, and she was a little chubby. After a second, I noticed something very familiar about her. She had a black line under her right eye. I’ve seen that line on my face three times in my life. The salesperson acknowledged my recognition and with words unspoken I told her that I understood and there was no need to be embarrassed. After some small talk and looking around the store, I grabbed a business card, said goodbye, and walked out the door. I looked up to the sky and said a silent prayer for the sister.

Memory Sharing!

tree

Suicide is a topic rarely talked about in the African American community.

Here is my story. When I was 14 years old, I was living with a friend of mine and her family.  I had a lot of freedom but I was unhappy.  I was very unhappy.

I began drinking Cisco, trying to escape my pain. The alcohol wasn’t working. I no longer wanted to live. I began to have thoughts about suicide, thinking about jumping in front of cars. I decided against it because I had been hit by a car before and that wasn’t a good feeling. I then thought about stabbing myself but I didn’t want to bleed all over the place. I wanted my death to be peaceful.  One night when everyone in the house was asleep, I went into the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of pills. The bottle had not been opened, so when I opened the bottle, I only took half. I didn’t want to take the whole bottle for fear of getting in trouble, just in case I didn’t die. I went into the kitchen, got a glass of water, and took the pills.

A Walk Through Brooklyn

A Walk Through Brooklyn
A Walk Through Brooklyn
A Walk Through Brooklyn by Rashaun J. Allen is a rare collection of poetry. I say that because rarely does an up and coming poet enlighten the senses of an individual the way that this author has done. The scope this poetic work examines issues of fatherlessness, death, love, sensuality, and pain. The audience that reads this book will get the opportunity to take a trip through the imagination and experience of a native Brooklynite by reading between the pages of this collection. It is not often that we (the readers) can divulge in reading the commentary on urban life from someone who has lived this experience, and can reflect on the joys, sorrows, and inconsistencies of life. Rashaun delivers the experiences of a young, educated, black man that overcame hurt and pain to discover the light the end of the tunnel. The misdirection, confusion, and ultimate success of this writer’s life are revealed after reading poem after, after poem, after poem. My personal favorites included in this collection of poetry are Tre Got a Problem, Ms. Africa, and My Crush. I look forward to reading more from this upcoming poet, but until then my appetite for delving into one black man’s psyche, and reading about a true urban experience has been satisfied after a taking A Walk Through Brooklyn.

By: Tiffany Flowers

  • Published in Books
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