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775Re: [illpoets] Vanity

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  • Kevin Seabrook
    Feb 6, 2006
      I was trying to think of the right word to describe what your message was to me; deep? insightful? thought-provoking? relevant? It was all those things! But the two words that best describe what your message was to me are "The Truth" Thank you!

      Shaneka Prince <HazelEyez1977@...> wrote:
      Very nice and well spoken. Interesting and unfortunately so, so true
      Sent from my BlackBerry wireless handheld.

      -----Original Message-----
      From: "krisjamel" <krisjamel@...>
      Date: Wed, 01 Feb 2006 16:12:10
      Subject: [illpoets] Vanity


      I received a letter today, delivered by a mailman whose hand bore
      the same complexion as this crisp Blanca envelope.  Enclosed are
      pages saturated with the words of an oppressor.

      It reads:
      Dear Ms. Guided One

      *(His letters always begin this way)
      Yes, I am still alive.  I know you don't hear from me as much as you
      use to, but I've just been hanging around.  I would bet that you
      don't believe me.  How many examples do you need?  How about that
      young African boy shot 41 times in New York City or the incident
      with Eddie Bauer.  What about the destruction of the twin towers? 
      What about the targeting of Arab-Americans that followed?  Can you
      imagine what it will be like tomorrow?  I hate to bring up the past,
      but have those people come up with a messiah in the wake of Martin's
      passing?  Why am I asking, I know the answer.  I guess I shouldn't
      ask of Huey P. of the panthers.  I'm not trying to rub it in, but
      you should realize that you can't win.  You are dying through the
      insouciance of men.  Rest assured my friend I am alive and well.


      Racism a.k.a. Ignorance

      As I placed my letter in the drawer where I keep all of his letters,
      I pull out a tablet and my favorite gel pen.  I then begin to return
      the ball, so to speak.

      Dear Ignorance,
      I am saddened to hear of your worsening condition.  It seems that in
      your old age you believe that you are still thriving.  Your days are
      negatively numbered; all living things must die.  You may think
      you're as elusive as a chameleon, but you're much easier to view
      these days.  Just because people do not speak your language in
      public doesn't mean they don't revert to their familiar lingo in
      private quarters.  Therefore you have an infrared beam aimed at your
      heart, a chrome 45' is it's horse.  But my guns aren't loaded with
      death; they're loaded with life.  My ammo is more extensive than any
      army's for my bullets are books, righteous teachers, homegrown
      preachers, weathered political leaders, and an inspired youth.  The
      perfect sedative for a sickness called ignorance, which you suffer
      from.   I also suffer from this disease because I keep my friends
      close and my enemies even closer.  With that being said, I will
      place my high caliber pistol back in its holster, and bid you a
      hollowed goodbye missing the sentiment of departure.

      With regard,


      P.S.  Next time you would like to write me, e-mail me at seek-

      I addressed this letter to everywhere and nowhere, which is
      generally his location depending on who you ask.  The postage for
      this package was $6.66, expensive for just a letter but it carried
      thoughts that weighed heavy on my heart.  As I relinquished the
      letter in to the world it hit the bottom of the mailbox with a
      thud.  I turned into the icy wind of this want to be winter season
      night and head homeward.  I notice a middle-aged woman, face
      reflective of the above crescent moon. making her merry way toward
      me.  I offer a hardy "Good evening."  She suddenly stops fast enough
      for her loafers to leave skid marks.  She reaches into her purse,
      hands me a letter, and then scurries across the street.  She moved
      like grade school kids told to stop running.  She moved as if she
      suspected she was being followed, chased by monsters in her closet. 
      Her imagination.  I felt the deepest sympathy for her, although I
      couldn't help smiling.  Isn't it funny how stupid racism makes
      people look?

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