THE GUN THE BOOK AND THE KNIFE

On his table lay a gun; on the other side lay a knife, in-between a pile of books.
And he, well he was a brother,
Now maybe just a nigga but….
Let me rewind it back further.
I knocked on his door earlier that day.
And he cautiously opened
Which for him was rather strange.
“Wha gwan, I heard you called me.”
“Who told you that?” He said
“Well no-one told me I meant I heard you telepathically, can I come in?”
Now whenever someone has a look on their face
That makes you think you’re invading their space
That’s the one time you say…
“Yeah, I’d take a look at your place.”
I firmly shook his hand; he had scratches on his face.
“Bredrin what goes with the scars on your cheek, you cut yourself shaving?”
“Oh yeah, yeah it’s been a bad week”
He looked like he hadn’t slept in one.
He was worryingly sombre; he was usually so full of life
And furthermore to my surprise I saw his coffee table with books, next to books next to books and I said “Nigga ain’t those my books?”
“You of all people should know not to call me that.”
Though I was only joking
I was shocked at his response
But for you to understand my surprise I’ll go back even farther…

You see he and I had been friends from way back when
When we were in primary school we would both play the fool
When secondary school followed we followed different paths
And at the time I didn’t think we would maintain our link
But despite our differences the friendship was kinder positive
I would study “BLACKNESS” and he was on his “Gallisness”
He said all my stuff was long
He couldn’t use that to get along
That stuff would all just turn them wrong.
His motto was “with each new month must be welcomed by a new girl”
So Sharon, Shancie, Tamika, Tina Alice and Wauneta experienced his world
He said if they treated him right,
They might even make an appearance twice.
Now at college he asked me why don’t I get on it?
That one girl flex is a waste of your youthful exuberance
I tried to tell him my knowledge just couldn’t allow it
He said “how does it if a woman doesn’t mind it?”
I told him “ relationships deal with emotion and emotions deal with feelings,
Which affect the mental runnings.
And a woman after her suffering
At least deserves correct understanding
Instead of just being a plaything.
But our reluctance to become immersed within her essence
And bring out the best in each other
Would soon lead us to others
Which I can’t be apart of
And if I get hurt, then so be it
For I did my best to resurrect the best in both beings.”
He said “Deeeep maybe I’ll need you in UNI.”

And sure enough, university caused him to do a little more study.
And he called me to say “Tuggs, Tuggs, I found her, girl is deep, just like you only deeper, I need to borrow your books.”
I told him a quick Jim’ll fix it ain’t really gonna fix it.
And sure enough it ended up being a quick novelty flex
He told me “she was too intense emotionally,
Wanted to know X and Y and A and B about me,
But I ain’t in relationships for alphabets.”
A few months later he returned demanding to borrow more books, videocassettes and audiotapes.
“But why now bro?”
He maintained he was under a hex,
That the deep girl musta been a voodoo priestess
“Cause after her, my Galisness was completely ineffective
And maybe your books would exorcise it.”
So I gave him it.
But as far as I knew, till this morning, he never read it.
Just used it to intrigue girls for the fact that he acquired it.
So he said “thank you kid”

So on this day, you can understand my surprise when I saw my
Malcolm X speeches, next to Message to the Blackman,
Next to the Opinions of Garvey
On top of the Blueprint of the Black Panther Party
Across form the autobiography of Assata Shakur,
Which lay underneath Sacred Woman by Queen Afua,
Which was adjacent to Nile valley civilizations,
Which opened on the page that dealt with matriarchal societies,
Which was on top of No Nation Can rise Higher than It’s Woman
And I could see notes on Acts of Faith by Iyanla Vazant
But he pointed me to the making of a slave by Willie Lynch and said, “It was me!” Me as in Him, and he broke it down.

Now during those days we no longer like to talk about that began 4-0-0 years ago.
A man named Wille Lynch laid the blue print for controlling Negroes for hundreds of years. And he picked up on slaves being used for breeding and pleasure. Lacking emotional attachment, just physical enjoyment, running to different plantations, having different children by different women, in different places sometimes, different races.
But he believed after his study, it was within him genetically.
Now for me that was deep.
He said “You’re the blackest man I know, I mean you’re black, black black.”
(Now to the outside world that may be considered a diss.
But remember we’re thinking from a pro black perspective.)
And to me that was a high compliment, so I said “Thank you”
“But these books bro, their kinder, their kinder deep on black women, what’s your opinion? I mean they're a lot of no good women that’ll contradict what you’re saying.”
I said what Elijah Muhammad said
That “All no good women were made that way by a no good man
And from my experience, sisters are happy to find heaven in men,
And sometimes fall down looking
But to be messed around one too many times
And fell for one too many lines
Being hurt by one too many guys
May make her heart kind of hard at times.
So those girls you flexed with at fifteen may now be twenty-five
With vengeance continued through her eyes
Or maybe just ‘allowed black guys.
But why are you asking?”

He talked as he looked through me,
He kept his lips still.
But spoke his mind
His words weren’t’ big enough to explain the actions of yesterday.
So I saw through his eyes.
The actions of last night
Sometimes he just needed that physical love
But children had already resulted as a result of his lust
But he just couldn’t stop it, he knew this
And his present girl, she knew it.
And that night was the night to confront him with it.
An argument followed cusses and insults and certain things thrown.
He was just working himself up to the point of no return.
It wasn’t the first time violence had descended
But it’d been the first time he’d been so affected.
The left clenched fist,
Following a right kick,
Her facial scratches couldn’t prevent the violence within him.
Brought on by the pressures at work,
His life gone wrong
The lack of access to his kids
And the need for physical relations devoid of emotional attachment.
And that day who I would call the mother of civilization whose feet lay heaven
Was now facing eradication from a fallen human being.
He heard three knocks and told her to keep her mouth shut.
Which broke his trans, and he broke away leaving her harmed.
He reached home late, stayed up all night just reading and reading and reading and thinking and calling and calling, me.
For he hoped the conclusion couldn’t be what he thought it should be.
For he had done it again,
He couldn’t trust himself not to do it again.
But the strange thing was when he got home again,
She phoned him again,
And said she wanted him back again
She couldn’t live without him again.
But he couldn’t trust himself again,
Even if she would again.
But he asked her
“What if it happened again, and I did it again.
Sister what would ever happen if you never, breathe again.”
She didn’t speak again;
He heard her breath and hung up again.
He hoped that was the end.
He had a gun on one side. Books in the middle and a big knife on the other side.
You know Tehut said a man should cut off his hand before he strikes a woman.
And maybe he should give up his life if he proceeds to.
When you see his actions, it would make you want to pull his throat out for him.
But he had already gone through the motions
And was preaching repentance,
But that didn’t make things right.
But what would you do if you were me?
He had a gun on one side. Books in the middle a big knife on the other.
But even still, what would you do if you were he?