birth canal 

(WORDS BY GOODSTEPH)

At the center of my being, I am as pure as a unicorn, trotting open air with creamed coloured hooves. You might even equate me to a pearl. The finest of pearls formed from a grain of sand in the oyster of my mamas womb. I was the fate of 1994, I am the fate of a lifetime. As I walked along that life line, "In time." My mother reassured, with a desire for days-telling all she knew of the king she would come to raise. 
DYLAN E. RICHARDS

DYLAN E. RICHARDS

At the pit of her was fear cause she gave the burden to her calf, another misunderstood King with a crown of naps so sure to last. The man was unfit yet the woman had so much soul. With her eclectic sense of style and her shimmering heart of gold she had LOVE and peace as well to pass on to me. She was she and I became me, a unique palette of illustrious words and sounds and pictures of cold Summer's on the 7 mile block.  She flipped a mean chip on the shoulder of young man who was ugly by American standard and shiftless by the Student Code of Conduct.  A real shy fella with a moon shaped head, he had soul- enough soul to make you reconsider the product that came from the sparsely put housing where there ain't too many brown sets of kings and queens. Not too many grocery stores but enough liquor ones to drown a fish, not too many record stores but enough empty lots for bodies to get bodied, and for the bullets to rest easy. Where we lack the minds of the curious but the eyes of the delirious searching and searching for something or someone to keep them moving and grooving. Moving and loosing. 

DYLAN E. RICHARDS

DYLAN E. RICHARDS

When the groove was the idea of the mailman bringing mamas check today and we'd have to take those earnings to the thrift and get fresh to play our same candied yams and collard greens in the summer time.

--

And yet I still can't deny, sometimes I wonder whether we'dever see the sun or discover a truth from ancient times, or would I fight for manicured lawns and a stint of TV time. We are like peacocks in a barrel flapping hard and jumping high - looking toward the horizon for an answer to our cries. If you want the truth look inside, you were formed from an oyster just like I. Your heart so pure and tender your disposition strong with pride. Don't fall or fold beneath these marred and troubled times, you alone are the standard. The treasure awaits in your mind. Continue to pray, continue to eat, and tell the truth instead of the lie. See the beauty in these times, see the beauty in these times. 

DYLAN E. RICHARDS  

DYLAN E. RICHARDS

 

PHOTOS BY DYLAN E. RICHARDS