Wesley Keys Wants Our Women To Dream

Dear Ms. Hip Hop by Wesley Keys

I was left breathless. Because before I was born came bridges that connected beats that make my feet dance desperately to separate souls from puppeteer strings. Stringed instruments put stress on simple souls. Bob their heads to drum machine patterns, drumming up patterns of distress and unrest. Unwilling to open the eyes of those 4, 5 and 6 year old girls who only see through night vision goggles of video vixens. Intoxicating their minds to move their hips and in turn they move their behind. They are behind. Behind rappers who lynch themselves with chains. Behind rappers who decorate themselves with the reddest and bloodiest diamonds turned transparent, I see right through you. They are still slaves. Slaves to the land of mediocrity. multiplying and dividing this empty wealth among themselves. She is the ornament that dangles from his arm.She is his eye candy. She is the chain that hangs on his lynched neck. She is the gold digger. But how can you dig gold out of copper mines. Empty minds is what I see. I wish to write a letter

Dear yellow diamond spoiler chick. Dear miss how easily do I forget that Angela Davis did not wear natural hair with a balled fist raised high in the air so I could be his bust it baby. Dear miss I forget that I am the only image that these girls see. I wish you could dream. Because that all these girls are doing is dreaming your reality. Let the heartbeats lead your movements again. Forget the drum machine. Forget snare and the bass. Remember that there was a time that the beat machine was our bodies. Begin to dance again. Begin to dream again. Begin to live again. Begin to know that your hip movements exsistince did not start with a tip drill video. Your movements were forged in the fire of the dance on African coast lines. Not even chains. Chains could not curb your boogie. You tapped, bopped, swung your way across the Atlantic. Up from southern bondage that you danced around to the dance halls of New York, to the basement parties in Detroit, to the Mayfair dance academy in Chicago. My sisters, I love you. Go back that natural state and begin to dances to those rhythms that you hear when you sleep. Begin to dream.

Matt Infante Kills With The Kick Of His Art

Matt Infante, the aerosol assassin, strikes back with his new aerosol air force 1's. Check out the dope boom box in the back too, tons of steez. :)

This piece is very close to ya boy's heart because it goes back to the heart of hip hop, with the graffiti style, and revamps the old with a new outlook, because every one knows AF1s are a little played out (just a little bit). Im going to take this moment to THINK (the name of the website is boythink so THINK.) When you are going about your day think of new ways you can revamp your daily life. Hip hop is not the only thing that can take a country song, revamp it and make all the thugs on your block bob their head to it. Take some little thing from your life like reading or talking and just decide to do that activity in a better way. Get like the aerosol assassin, Matt Infante and add some new colors to your life. If you like what you see you can contact Matt Infante at minfante@umich.edu

For know keep it steezy, get it in, and don't forget to THINK.

Matt Infante New Young Artist

Here is some lovely art by the self taught Matt Infante. I really like this piece because there are so many themes working here in this simple piece. The sleek fluid piece on the bottom left creates a nice contrast with the rigid colorful background. Check out the other works of Matt Infante I'll be posting later. Contact me at jeffyfjr@gmail.com to contact Matt Infante.

From The Eyes of a Writer

Jeff- Hey your a writer right?

Writer- Yeah, why.

Jeff-Don't you think what you are doing is wrong?

Writer-No?

Jeff-Why not?

Writer-Because I don't think art should be censored.

Jeff-Explain.

Writer-Well there trying to give people five years for writing and there are drug lords out there and gang bangers. All I want to do is spread my art around so people can see beautiful art every where

Jeff-What do you say to people who don't think that what you are doing is right?

Writer-Well they doin't really know what art is.

Jeff-Well do you think that messing with other peoples property?

Writer-No.

Jeff-Well an architect who made that building so its all most like your slashing other peoples work.

Writer-Well to be real with you I really don't give a fuck. I just wanna be remembered.

WOMAN

She walk she talk she laid she birthed me so why treat her as if she cursed me when life is such a blessing she taught me the lesson and by she i meen woman and by woman I meen strong and by strong i meen enough to cook and clean in a house with six nappy headed boys running about she blessed us she blessed you she breast you and she was there for you when you got left by that dude father but woman loved you like no other

WHAT I HEAR IN MY HOME TOWN

what up my dude, thats what you here in Terror Town L's up rakes down,thats what they thinkin tweekin we tweekin 5-0 creepin L's walkin down briging hell to CHI-TOWN 4-7 lay em down what up joe pound on yo chest if you claimin moe waddown sons dis law from the east got a claw like a beast dicks pullin up nicely call ya wifey tell her scoop you up iight my dude I'm outta here throw the L's up waddown my lady eastside crazy g to da world blow allwell what chu sayin moe on my lady step up off me sons grab da glock bet he run.What up my dude shit slackin aint nun crackin eyes red from nat Kush to the head feelin lazy L's up rakes down cuz we eastside crazy thats what you hear in terror town

A Crazy Day

One day, while I was outside playing basketball with my friends around four o’clock in the afternoon at the park around my house, pigeons started to shit all on the court. Then we had to clean the shit off the court with the water that we had in our water bottles. So once the water dried up, we had finish playing until we all heard this key jiggling sound really loud. Then we looked and it was a big pit bull with red eyes and brown hair, running towards everyone on the court. So many people ran to they cars and some people even ran in other people house that they didn’t even know. Everyone waited until someone came and got the dog but no one came so the vicious dog was growling staying on the court like it was his. So I decided to call the police and have them come with animal control to take the dog away before it try to attack someone. Then we all just sat around and waited for the animal control to come. While waiting we finally heard some sirens and seen some flashing lights coming down the block. They came and took the dog away, so my friends and I went back to finish hooping. Since the animal control took so long to come, it was seven o’clock already and it started to get really windy outside. Many people left because the wind was blowing the ball everywhere and it made it hard to shoot. Then we all just went home and on the way home we got bored and started to think about doing something fun before we all go in the house. The first thing that came to everyone mind was spray painting, so we started to do graffiti on an abandoned house around the park. When we got done doing that everyone started to walk home but on the way leaving from the abandon house the police drove next to us and asked us what were we doing on side of those abandoned house and we tale him nothing but he didn’t believe us. So he told all of us to freeze and sit on the curb of the street. Once he said that everyone just took off in all different directors like ants. So the police didn’t know what to do so he just sat there. Finally everyone just went home and lay down, but while I was lying down I started to think about what a crazy day I had and about everything that happened. Then I went to sleep.