James Lewis

Rookie (August 19,1975 / Newark, NJ)

The Art Of Storytelling -Finale- - Poem by James Lewis

Staring at the vehicle my hands begin to shake, and travels up my arms my shoulders tense and then they quake,
I see Rich watching Nate and won'dring what he's gonna do, but I've known Nate for way too long, I tell him, 'Bruh be cool.'

'We need him, if for nothing else, to find out what's the deal, and guide us in the water through the sharks and baby seals,
now listen to me closely Rich and tell us what it is, or Nate got sumthin big to split ya wig and you won't live.'

I see his gears start turning, I'm observant, that's my style, he's pon'dring if he'll live through tryin to dropp a dime on Sal,
the mitigating factor is we're here and Sal is not, Rich knows this and begins to talk before his cabbage pops.

'Remember Uncle Ben who used to swig that gin wit Henn? And roll up to the gamblin house to win wit just a fin? '
'That place was always known as a hellacious den of sin, your uncle was the owner and foreva sinned to win! '

'He set your father up because of jealousy and hate, those feelings I'm afraid are what most surely sealed his fate, '
'your uncle also feared potential power he'd attain, he set him up for getting hollows showered on his brain.'

'My Pops performed the hit but see ya Uncle had him clipped, he had my father lit, his lips got permanently zipped, '
'I held on to the car cause I knew one day I'd need proof, I'm at your side to ride my soulja, NOW you know the truth! '

With Rich's inner knowledge of my uncle's master plans, we started from the bottom up by offin all his mans,
that ran the diff'rent spots he owned within the city walls, we took the fight to Hill Street right across from City Hall.

His main man Monty ran the club that used to be The Mint, he beat on women senseless but he thought himself a gent,
he used to see Nate's sister back in 2K5 I think, and beat her up so bad one time the girl could hardly blink.

No need for motivation motives motivate revenge, Nate slit his throat so deep it hung by inches of the skin,
when playing in this game you peep how sick a playa think, the body in the tub, the head left bloody red impression stains inside the sink.

It went on like that daily, ev'ryone was getting some, we stayed intoxicated drinkin bottles of redrum,
a year of bloody murder, all of us we had to bust, me Nate and Rich arranging it made Sal come after us.

We crewed with all his enemies and took it to the street, with all of us at peak to eat the food of Sal's defeat,
then Pop rolled up one morning with a gang of 20 strong, they all was bearin arms like it was middle summer warm.

The shots began to fire adding light to morning dawn, the symphony of war, an orchestrated morning song,
I saw the slug hit Rich and scramble his unknowing dome, his lifeless eyes were clear, I'm sad to know that he is gone.

The scene was like a movie but the blood was all too real, we stood amongst the open lettin off with balls of steel,
alot of soldiers died that day but Nate and I were left, we shook the spot with Pop inhaling bullets through his chest.

Nate came to me a few weeks later eyes bugged out his head, he knew the place where Sal was restin up to bake that bread,
he stayed out there alone since we were gunnin for his throne, to have this city sewn we'll get him gone, let's get it on!

We crept up through the building using shadows as disguise, and kicked the door right into Unit 32869,
I caught Sal with his pants down laying into some young freak, I go to raise the heat and feel a bullet pierce my cheek.

I hear Nate laugh with Sal about my imminent demise, I then feel 8 more slugs impale my neck and chip my spine,
and on the floor is where I die, the late great Corey Sells, now pass along these words which is my story that I tell.


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Poem Edited: Tuesday, May 17, 2011


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