Archive for dance

young white sburbanite (excerpt from “the village”)

Posted in humor, music, poetry, politics, prose, racial discrimination, satire and sarcasm, social commentary with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 27, 2010 by joelle blackstarr

on any given friday night,

a young white suburbanite,

cruises in his beamer,

into the city, bose blastin’ fiddy.

he sports the latest, greatest, hippest, dopest, phattest rags

that his daddy’s silver spoon could buy,

but that silver spoon is the very reason why.

he protests the riches that they don’t deserve,

lashes out at his very own private federal reserve.

he’s looking for some black flava,

or some brown suga’,

or some white powder,

music getting louder.

young white suburbanite,

in the middle of the night,

loses himself in another man’s culture.

not understanding the subtleties of cp time,

he hits the club way too soon,

stands around with beer in hand,

realizes that the night was not so well-planned.

but he’s fly and hip and dope and –

and thinks he’s ahead of his time,

but the reality is that he simply

got there way ahead of time.

the music swirls within his head,

and the sistas think it’s so dred

that he’s holding his own,

while out of his element.

but to his detriment,

the beer pulls him to the dancefloor.

now, whitebread ain’t so fly no more.

and we think “ooh, that’s gotta hurt!”

beer has him moving to the beats,

the sight has us fallin’ out our seats.

“yo – young white suburbanite!

some fly sista would like ta get witcha”,

but homeboy’s homeboy has had

one too many rollin’ rocks.

young white suburbanite

struggles with all his might

to get his homeboy standing upright.

now, homeboy’s homeboy wants to fight.

young white suburbanite

came to the city,

blastin’ fiddy,

lookin’ for some black flava,

or some brown suga’,

or some white powder.


got that gangsta beat going ‘round in his head.

cruisin’ in his jet-black beamer.

he’s just trying to understand

why we always catch it from the man.

tries to understand what that’s like,

he beats a path to every open mike,

struggles to get a feel for what it’s like.

a fruitless pursuit and he can’t see why

he can never feel the pain like you and i.

he innocently protests and lets out a sigh –

“it wasn’t me and i refuse to carry that lie”.

it’s neither out of compassion,

nor because it’s popular fashion,

but, instead, because the guilt of the fathers

prey upon the innocence of the sons.


on any given friday night,

deep within the urban blight,

from dusk until daylight.

lookin’ for some

black flava,

brown suga’,

white powder.

out of the gloomy mist and into the light,

comes an urban legend . . . a young white suburbanite.

copyright  2008  blackstarr

Lose Yourself by Eminem

Images: silver spoon (, Rolling Rock beer (, Flava (, Bey caricature (, Philadelphia skyline (

Dreamscape: Witchy Woman

Posted in Dreamscape with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 23, 2008 by joelle blackstarr

garcelle-beauvais-testScene 1:

It is close to midnight.  I am in a backyard that is about thirty feet wide by thirty or forty feet long.  It is covered in grass, and slopes downward towards a creek that runs behind the house.  The weather is very warm and the yard is filled with people milling about and there is music in the air.  A slow dance comes on and I decide to dance with the most beautiful woman that I had ever laid eyes upon.  She is wearing an ultra-thin, ultra-sheer nightgown that reaches to her ankles.  I can see her body through the material of the gown.  The gown is tight-fitting and hugging her like a second skin, almost as if it were painted onto her body.  Before we take to the floor, her parents come up beside us and, in the thickest of island accents, her father asks “So, you’re going to take care of my daughter?” I reply “Yes”.  He lets out a most wicked laugh that resonates and echoes throughout the neighborhood.  Her mother grabs hold of his arm and the two of them disappear into the house.  The woman and I dance, slow and close.  I feel her body melting into mine.  When the dance is over, we remain embraced.  Her lips meet mine and we engage in a very long and very passionate kiss.  When the kiss is done, she lets out a long, wicked laugh, similar to the one made by her father.  I watch her as she walks away and continue watching until she disappears  Fade to black.

Scene 2:

I am in a bar that lines the back of the same house’s backyard, all the way at the back where the yard meets the creek, goth-n-skullsat the bottom of the slope.  In the portion of the bar in which I find myself, there is a long counter lined by bar stools.  Every seat is occupied.  There is a walkway that is only about three feet wide, lined on one side by the counter and bar stools, and by a floor-to-ceiling mirror on the other side.  As I pass by the mirror, I can see myself, but barely.  I am walking in one direction but my reflection is walking in the opposite direction.  It seems that I am fading away.  I am pale, almost transparent.  I walk the length of the mirror and out the door.  I come back in and walk in the other direction.  Now, I can hardly make out my reflection in the mirror.  I walk into the next room, which is actually just a foyer that leads into a third room.  In this foyer, there are mirrors on both walls.  I cannot see my reflection at all.  Fade to black.

Scene 3:

I am walking away from the house towards another street.  The music starts to fade away slowly, until, finally, it is no longer present.  A man, with whom I am vaguely familiar, is walking beside me, now.  During our conversation, he mentions that I should not have danced with the beautiful woman.  I say that it will be alright.  He notices that I am pale, and almost panics.  Somewhat calmly he exclaims “No, you didn’t!  You did not kiss her!  Do you know who she is?!” I reply that I apparently don’t.  He pulls out a Life Saver, and hands one to me.  “You’d better take one of these.  It’s probably the only thing that will save you.” I pop one into my mouth, as does he.  We walk away from the house and up a hill on the other side of the street in silence.  Fade to black.


copyright  ©  2008  freedom

“Voodoo Chile” by Jimi Hendrix

Photos by Playboy,, and

Old School Flava: 7/16/2008

Posted in blog marathon 2008, Old School Flava with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on July 16, 2008 by joelle blackstarr

Disclaimer: Freedom is retired.  As such, I has no schedule and meet no deadlines unless I feel so lead.  I am introducing “Old School Flava” today (the way we said it, did it, expressed it back in the day, back in my generation).  That can cover music, language, lifestyles, customs and everything else.  Just because today is Wednesday, don’t come back next Wednesday looking for it, because it just might not be there.  Don’t get all up in arms because you stop by on a Saturday, and lo and behold, there it is.  Freedom is not scared of your lawsuits or your Johnny Cochran, so bring it on.  Freedom does what Freedom wants to do, when I want to do it.  Right about now, I take my lead from Maxwell: Whenever, Wherever, Whatever.  So, with that . . .

DANCE: Back in the day, a lot of songs were written about a new dance that had just come out.  The artists often explained how the dance was done.  I suppose that the greatest, most popular song was “The Twist” by Chubby Checker.  There was another dance called “The 81”, which was covered by two different songs and artists.  “The 81” by Archie Bell an the Drells, and there was another by the same name, female group, whose name I can’t recall (senior moment, as it were). Then, there was a fabulous song by The Dramatics, entitled “Get up, and Get Down”, which merely gave tribute to the way we danced.  There is one very memorable line in the song that goes “Look at mama, she’s tearin’ you up!” “Tearin’ you up” meant that someone has “out shined” you on the dance floor.  Another word that described pretty much the same thing was “squirreled”.  If you got squirreled, it meant that your dance partner’s steps were waaaay better than yours.  What do you kids say today?

Harmony:  It seems that the further we go back, the better the harmonizing was.  In recent history, we have Boys II Men, whose harmony touched souls from several generations.  If we go back a bit further, we come across KC and JoJo, who gave us “Tell Me It’s Real”, one of the best songs to come from that era  Even further back, we find Take 6, an a cappella group who, with its gospel influence, put us in mind of the Men’s Chorale at just about any Baptist church in town.

I plead with you to go back as far as the 1960’s and reminisce upon a group of a cappella singers known as The Persuasions.  In my humble opinion, this group presented the very best of a cappella singing and the greatest harmonizing ever.  EVER!! It is unfortunate that their album “We Came To Play” is no longer available, to my knowledge.  That album personified the flava of the group better than any of their other albums put together.  Since that is the case, Freedom offers you a small taste from another album, “Sincerely” with “Members Only”.

That’s Old School Flava for this week.  Enjoy.

copyright  ©  2008  freedom

Flava Of The Day that I’m feeling is Sweet Sensual Love by Big Mountain.  Yeah!