A Public Display Of Juggling

Dwayne B! Southeast, DC Writer Break Dancer, HIV education/activist Aspiring DJ Hopeless Romantic Romantically Hopeless Crochet Guy Father. Anacostia Stand Up!!!
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Droopy the Broke Baller & Dwayne B

—Niggas Embarrassed

I will continue to reblog this until we re-record it. that shits cray!

brokeballer:

One good spoof deserves another. Yes, ANOTHER “Niggas In Paris” parody: “Niggas Embarrassed” by Droopy the Broke Baller and Dwayne B the Crochet Kingpin. We recorded this in October. So uhhh, might as well put it out, right? “Watch The Poem…” BROKE SWAG!

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Droopy the Broke Baller

—6 Foot 7 Foot (D-mix)

brokeballer:

[Droopy’s “6 Foot 7 Foot” D-Mix]: So I know this is rather old, but I just re-recorded it. My little 2011 battlecry after a rough 2010. Meant a lot to me when I wrote it, plus I’m trying to get all my music that mentions Psycho Yotch out of my system (right after Mother’s Day, funny enough). So be on the lookout for more of the cookout on “NO HAIR, DON’T CARE”!

Rainbow of culture - in commemoration of PG County Caribbean Festival

A rainbow of culture,

1 color kaleidoscope of tans and browns,

A sacred tale of people who survived the passage,

Revolted against the oppression.

Survival on your tongue,

Speech like a warrior enjoying times of peace.

Far more than curry shells and coconut drinks.

Cant be contained in annual parades

Wont be captured in chicken patties at corner stores.

Your life is…

Steel Drums beating out the rhythm of right and left ventricle,

Feet churning to keep the pace of children race in the streets.

Brother, you are the face of perseverance.

Sista, you are the shade of life,

Locks glistening the sun,

There is an island that calls you family,

Colors that course through your blood,

Be proud.

You are the children of eternity,

Raised in the Rainbow of culture.

Earthbound homespun scarf holla at cha boy!

Earthbound homespun scarf holla at cha boy!

Red black and green spring scarf variant

Red black and green spring scarf variant

Wheat scarf

Wheat scarf

“…I’m chillin, but my swagga on full attack”

“…I’m chillin, but my swagga on full attack”

“Dreads braided to the back…”

“Dreads braided to the back…”

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Droopy the Broke Baller

—Afro Samurai, Gangsta Geisha

brokeballer:

“Afro Samurai, Gangsta Geisha”, to be included on my upcoming “This Is The Part” mixtape. Samples “In The Morning” by J.Cole featuring Drake. I personally can’t stop bumping it, so I thought I’d give that same opportunity to those interested. Enjoy.

My big bro does it again!

Being a writer is a very peculiar sort of a job: it’s always you versus a blank sheet of paper (or a blank screen) and quite often the blank piece of paper wins. It has no job security of any kind, and depends mostly on whether or not you can, like Scheherazade, tell the stories each night that’ll keep you alive until tomorrow. There are undoubtedly hundreds of easier, less stressful, more straightforward jobs in the world. Personally, I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do, but that’s me.

If you want to be a writer, write. You may have to get a day job to keep body and soul together (I cheated, and got a writing job, or lots of them, to feed me and pay the rent). If you aren’t going to be a writer, then go and be something else. It’s not a god-given calling. There’s nothing holy or magic about it. It’s a craft that mostly involves a lot of work, most of it spent sitting making stuff up and writing it down, and trying to make what you have made up and written down somehow better. …

It does help, to be a writer, to have the sort of crazed ego that doesn’t allow for failure. The best reaction to a rejection slip is a sort of wild-eyed madness, an evil grin, and sitting yourself in front of the keyboard muttering “Okay, you bastards. Try rejecting this!” and then writing something so unbelievably brilliant that all other writers will disembowel themselves with their pens upon reading it, because there’s nothing left to write. Because the rejection slips will arrive. And, if the books are published, then you can pretty much guarantee that bad reviews will be as well. And you’ll need to learn how to shrug and keep going. Or you stop, and get a real job.

Today I tried and failed again.

I am the american spectre.
Vampire silloutte shimmering before the sun shines;
Beccons the dust of me.

I hate being a writer. Words don’t always matc how you feel. There is no syntax for this feeling.

Fuck it.

Free dwayne beezy from the twitterjail cuz!