:::GhettoHeat:::



	"AND YOU DON'T STOP, KEEP ON!!!" Okay, people!!! Welcome to the second series of WRITE HERE! WRITE NOW!, where brave souls dare to put forth their hottest pieces for all to see; worldwide. Here are a few selections from the newest members of THE GHETTOHEAT MOVEMENT. Yo, check out: KUWAIT AT DAWN by U.S. Soldier Kuwait in July at the crack of dawn Big Red emerge as I rise and yawn Severe sandstorms seem the worst part Still aching for your loving heart Days gone by - total: two-twenty-two Slept close to our picture to be next to you This camouflage tent has become my home Terribly small with no space to roam Decorated with gifts you've sent with care Charming music box and cuddly teddy bear Teddy listens as I sob and weep Your music box helps me fall asleep Thankful that you keep me strong This mission has carried out far too long I'll soon be home with you and Drew I've missed so much and she's only two Let her know I sincerely love her Signed wife, mother and U.S. soldier GEMINI by Alize? Bakardi Couvousier Me, I'm a Gemini - How 'bout you? Favorite color - I'll Crip-to-nite on that blue Because I rep it - So don't disrespect it Holla at this blue mix - If you got blue stix Don't have no pixs - But I got kix and don't eat trix Gemini is what I rep to the fullest To the West - 7 Mile down WOW! Gemini is the birth sign of my dreams Know what I mean? You wanna taste the whip cream of your identical dreams Call -They like me Walls - They all fall down. I stay strapped cause I'm a Gemini threat When you read this hip hop anthem - You'll never forget-my thesis I'm her-r-r-e on this earth for a reason No threesomes - Don't go ther-r-r-e I'm sweet - Should be wit' me So to speak - wanna jump Weak nigga, leap! But don't flinch I love it when I get pinched - Drenched We as a GMC car wrench Love to strike a pose on a bench THE NECTAR OF A BLACK WOMAN by Yolanda Brunson-Sarrabo The Nectar of the Black Woman is the sweetest thang. Her sweetness is divine and her love is everlasting. She displays the strength every woman should wish to endure. She is a martyr in every sense of the word. The reason why you ask? Who seeks the Queen in need for taking care of their old and weary? Who seeks the Queen to help raise babies, other than their own? Yes, it is indeed-the Black Woman. Now, don't get it twisted! She can by subtle and caring as her intuition calls her to be. But she can just as easily flip the script when you feel the need to get indignant! Yes, it is evident that she is strong and independent-but what about the attitude, is it necessary you ask? Sometimes no, but 90% of the time-we need a little reminding that the Queen is running it! The Queen needs respect, because some of our Black Men have forgotten the taste of the Nectar; thus, the appreciation of such fruit is no longer a savor and a want. The Queen needs to remind the masses of other women (not of her Egypt and African ancestry) surrounding her on a daily basis, she is worthy, she is important; she is indeed, a Queen in her own right. But will a Black Woman back down and save face? Would she put her ancestry and culture on a back burner just to fit in? Why can't the Nectar speak for itself, and let her strength and wisdom ooze the truth? For those who don't understand an Omarosa, ("The Apprentice") continuing the plea that pure brown beauty and the demure of authority, does not go hand-in-hand in this season? This is a lie-for it does. For those who don't understand a Camille, ("America's Next Top Model") continuing the wonder and assumption that there are hidden agendas, and lack of self in showing self-awareness and strong confidence? This is a lie-for it does. For all others, including myself, continue to muster through the distrust, jealousy and threat for those who are scared of the Nectar. There is no need to fear, unless you plan to destroy and shatter her name. Otherwise, learn about what makes her special, and what makes her strong despite any and all obstacles. A-h-h-h, how sweet it is. CRIES by Cheeze The cries of a young child - Cries for help Cries for love - Attention Maybe these cries are for the heartbreaks Pain and others pleasure…that's been done to the child… THESE CRIES ARE TO LET OTHERS KNOW I'VE BEEN HURT! I'VE BEEN CRYIN' AND THERE'S NO ONE AROUND TO HELP! THE CRIES ARE STILL THERE AND STILL…there is no one to help So the child still cries - Inside and out BETTER OFF BY MYSELF by Kathy Wilson Hey, lady, how come you so pretty Living alone in this big old city? Why you ain't married yet? What, he didn't pop the big question yet? Where your baby daddy at? Somebody there keeping you plump and fat? What you do, run him off? Bet he ran cause he couldn't keep up with your cost That boy of yours need him a man in his life To help him grow up and keep him out of strife You need a man like me to keep you safe To protect you when the others get up in your face Come on, give a brother like me a chance A brother like me who has a positive stance I'm pretty cause of what's in my head-not what you see This big ole city ain't that big - There's few to pick from the tree I ain't married cause y'all to triflin' to ask Acting like being married is too big of a task My baby daddy is where he should be You need to worry about who you've been with lately I'm plump and fat cause of my own cookin' It ain't from no man, plus I AIN'T lookin' Everything I have, I got on my own I ain't run nobody off, he went looking for a bone. Sure, my boy needs a man around But I ain't settlin' for any ole clown I might want a man, but it's not a need I'm doing just fine with just 2 mouths to feed Lately, y'all seem to be nothing but trouble I'll end up getting my bills in double Nah, that's okay - Better off by myself If I wanna play, I'll go and get my toys from my shelf! THE AUDITION by Walter Vickerie It was a cool spring afternoon in the middle of Central Park. K.C. could no longer wrack her brain thinking about last week's audition. Did she or didn't she get the part? "Enough," K.C. thought; now feeling frazzled. She clamped her flat-ironed, honey blonde hair into a ponytail that hung just above her shoulders. K.C.'s complexion was a light golden bronze color, adorned with naturally rosy red lips. She breathed through her button nose slowly and inhaled the midday mist, intertwined with the surrounding oaks' aroma. Her shimmering hazel eyes lit up and K.C. became intoxicated by its pleasant scent. K.C.'s bright white, form-fitted running suit clung to her small yet athletically curved body. She stretched her arms high above her head, swaying from left-to-right. The soothing release extended from the palm of her hands to the center of her lower back. "A-h-h-h," K.C. growled in her raspy velvet voice. K.C. then began to rummage through her small knapsack containing an IPOD, bottled water and a cell phone. She removed everything, except her phone and strapped the bag tightly to her back. She sipped a mouthful of the cold spring water. The fluid's frigid temperature chilled K.C.'s warm tongue. She laid the bottle on the ground and strapped the IPOD to her left arm. While adjusting its volume, the tiny apparatus gradually pumped out a thunderous mix of acoustic and tribal Latin house beats. The sounds immediately sent a charge through K.C.'s body. With much agility, K.C. cautiously leaned forward and reached for the tip of her running shoes, squeezing its leather exterior. The stretch sent an amazing rush of blood to K.C.'s head. She then rose slowly to an erect stance with her water bottle in hand. While steadily jogging in place and shaking her arms loosely, K.C. surveyed the park. The music from the IPOD began to escalate in rhythm to her in place trot. After deciding a desired path, K.C. eagerly began her sprint with short and deliberate strides. The petite runner found an even and narrow path suitable. She loved the gentle afternoon's breeze as the winds affectionately caressed her face. It was now just K.C. against the stretch of the road-and the feeling was electric! When K.C. reached a quarter of a mile into the run, beads of perspiration accumulated against her brow, neck and back. Her widened stride moved in harmony with the repetitious percussion pumping into her ears. The sound heightened from the echo of sneaker rubber against dirt and gravel. It made her pounding heart race and beat loudly. K.C.'s throat became dry. She craved a taste from the condensing water bottle that cooled her fiery hand. She worried that the soothing liquid would cause her stomach to cramp, so K.C. half-heartedly turned it down. The lush green scenery of trees, grass and bushes surrounding her was engrossing. At that moment, she felt at one with the beauty and calmness of nature. As K.C. approached the half way mark of her course, she slowed down to catch her second wind. Her clinging body suit now was nearly damp. Its constricting bind annoyed her. The flat and narrow road changed into a jagged rocky strip. K.C. was cautious with remaining in step and attempted to dodge the small rocks blocking her path. Unexpectedly, one of the rocks buckled under her right foot. K.C., now flustered, tumbled off on to the side of the betraying road. She violently yelled, "PUNETA!" at an octave level high enough to shatter glass. K.C. found her dusty mane wildly tossed about her head. The broken hair clasp clawed on to the few strands of what was her ponytail. She removed it from her hair and viciously threw it to the ground. She then arose and brushed away the dirt. K.C.'s running suit was filthy; soiled with grass stains everywhere. Her right foot was sore but far from injured. She resumed at a steady pace, in pursuit of her destination. The scattered clouds began to produce a mist of drizzle over the park. The soft droplets of rain felt good against K.C.'s hot flesh. The combined smell of oak, dirt, grass and her own perspiration began to make K.C. nauseous. The drops of water poured down aggressively-as the determined K.C. pushed harder. She began to cough and sneeze while persistently keeping her annoying hair out of her face. The rain was overwhelming, but still, K.C. never let up. A third of the way deep into the run, K.C.'s extended stride made her feet appear to never touch the ground. She had the speed of a cheetah and the strength of a bustling steam engine. Her piercing hazel eyes only looked forward, zeroing in on the tail end of the now muddy road. Biting down on her feverish brick red lips relieved the sparks of fire shooting through her foot. K.C.'s dirty, untamed hair was now completely drenched. It stuck to her head, face and neck like glue. The relentless runner both loved and hated the challenge. She was relieved when the rain reduced back to a light shower. The bitter taste of dirt, sweat and rain couldn't compare to the sweeter taste of satisfaction approaching at the end of the trail. After coming to a complete halt, K.C. turned off her IPOD. "Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!" K.C. roared with much energy while throwing a combination of punches into the wind. For miles around, all could be heard was her echo in the huge park. K.C. removed the cap from the water bottle and chugged away eagerly. The lukewarm water was replenishing in one thirst-quenching swallow. She then paced back-and-forth, only hearing the sounds of her footsteps. A muffled cell phone rang from her knapsack. K.C. took the bag from off of her back and retrieved the tiny phone. "Hello," she gasped out of breath. "Katherine Cruz?" questioned the voice on the other end. "Yes," K.C. answered confidently. "They loved your performance and want you for the part. Can you be in L.A. this week?" K.C. then looked up to the sky with a single tear streaming down her cheek. "I'll be there tomorrow!" The rejuvenated actress replied. WORLD OF BEAUTY by Poetry Ma The unloving has no room for love, care, time and patience To see as if blind, moving by smell and touch-not by sight O, if only you could see my world of beauty The world with no judgments, no pain and suffering Where there are no lies and deceit Where there's never a bad day Smiling face and sunny skies-this is my world Not a world where you are judge by the words you say-that many take wrong Where is my world you may ask? This world is in my heart and only the true one will see this world-and never turn away Yet they wanna see, the want the beauty of the world. They want peace in their lives-in their hearts The unloving has been hurt and pained Has not let go and can't see the love that is truly visible I would like you to walk into…my world of beauty BUTTERFLIES by Kelly V. Stephens I'm skating on a sidewalk at the beach Hoping not to fall I'd rather have butterflies On my hands and on my feet On my shoulders with wings that flutter My arms are out-I'm spinning on a bed of roses With no thorns I'd rather have butterflies At my lips At my fingertips My eyes are glowing I'm stopping I'm leaving your arms From a loving embrace I'd rather have… Butterflies LITERALLY GANGSTA by Ike Capone There was this gang around my way called the "Questions" Straight thugging and mugging with aggression was their profession There was "Who"-the most ill, hardest to kill cat And "What" No matter what, "What" always had "Who's" back Then there was "When" and "Where" Stayed creeping-hunting for some action While "Why" and "How" Laid low in the cut-bubbling them Jacksons Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How Were down for whatever Each man played his position And they all ate together If a crime was committed "Who", "What", "When", and "Where" did it "Why" and "How" wasn't even around But they still benefited Everything was going sweet Until they got into it with these thugs All over these chicks "If", "And", "But" and "Because" "Who" knew the main reason the Questions was stroking them Was so they'd set up this other click That was also poking them This other click was rich They were known as the "Statements" You know the type-Iced-out Roleys Matching pinky rings and bracelets The "Statements" were Jamaican There was "Exclamation" "Comma", Period", "Semicolon" and the twin "Quotations" Now "If", "And" and "But" were down to set the "Statements" up Under the impression that the "Questions" Were gonna bless them with a cut "Because" fell in love with that thug, "Semicolon" "Who" bought her jewelry, clothing and kept her pockets swollen She couldn't see herself flipping on that man She told her peeps she wasn't with it But they didn't understand They begged and pleaded with her Tried to tell her it was a must do Not knowing she had already told "Semicolon" What they were up to The "Statements" busted into their house With their burners out Their mamas felt the drama Once "Comma" began to shout What the Ras clod deal With these "Questions" kids? Me wanna know how many are they And where do they live As a matter fact, forget that Take me to their home Because big or small-I'll give them all two to the dome The ladies were shook of these crooks So they did what they were ordered to Their fear left them unaware That they were about to be slaughtered too They took them to "Why" and "How's" crib And they whole crew was there Watching SET IT OFF Puffing trees, drinking beer They knocked in code Entered as they were supposed The "Questions" saw the "Statements" and all hell begin to explode The first shot went off Then all you heard was blasting, G Each thug left off slugs Man it was a gat-as-trophy Once the smoke cleared There was nothing but dead thugs Laid out on the rug In their own pool of blood MUSACK by Chyna Doll DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! Mad musack has flooded the room-of my mind My spine My soul and my spirit man It has filled me up S-o-o-ounds like a live jazz band R&B, Blues, Hip-Hop, Neo-Soul Gospel, Old School tunes Slave Spirituals And, yes, even Classicals and Hymnals… "Then sings my soul - My Savior, God to thee" …Mozart to Chopin, Cab Calloway to Billie Holiday Billy Holiday to Billy Eckstein Billy Eckstein to Dinah Washington Dinah Washington to Lena Horne Lena Horne to the incomparable Nina Simone… Nina Simone…Nina Simone…Nina Simone… To the beautiful and vivacious Phyllis Hyman… Phyllis Hyman…Phyllis Hyman... Phyllis Hyman... DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! Mad musack has flooded the room E'rybody is dancin' & snappin' & clappin' & jammin' to their favorite grooves Reminiscent of the motherland Africa and Jamaica too. DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! I'm feelin' the rhythm of the nite A little salsa, soca, & meringue I love me some Hip-Hop that makes the hips wanna sway-sway DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! DIGGETY, DIGGETY, DIGGETY-BOOM! Mad musack has flooded the room I can hear it-can't you feel it? Unsigned artists interested in having their pieces featured in upcoming series of WRITE HERE!!! WRITE NOW!!! should send e-mails as a Microsoft Word document attachment to: WRITE@GHETTOHEAT.COM or mail submissions to: G H E T T O H E A T®, LLC P.O. BOX 2746 NEW YORK, NY 10027 ATTENTION: WRITE HERE!!! WRITE NOW!!! Please note that submissions may be edited for length and clarity.