Pain Makes A Diamond Lexus by A. Dakala

Yesterday, I pulled up at the red light anxiously waiting for the light to turn green trying to get to my dentist appointment. To the right of my vision, I could see the front end of a white Lexus pulling up at a high rate of speed. My first thought, another one of these youngsters wanting to race because they see a nice vehicle on rims ready to test out their engine. As the turning light turns green, the Lexus moves forward and now we are even. I never even glance over to see who was driving. The traffic light turn green, I punched the gas pedal; I went zero to sixty in seconds, I could see the white Lexus gaining ground. Once I made it to the next light, I pulled into the gas station. The white Lexus pulled in right behind me. I got out trying not to make eye contact with the driver. “You know you cheated right?”, I looked up to a beautiful, thick and sexy pecan tan female walking towards me. “I didn’t know you wanted to blow out that little engine,” I said. She laughed and reached out her hand and I shook hers. “I’m Dak,” I said. She introduced herself as Shaky. “So I guess I will get your government name over dinner,” “What make you think you going to make it that far, you know we met before on the dating app right?”, “Yes I remembered you and I figured, at some point you will want to redeem yourself trying to get even, since I embarrassed you back there and you owe me an apology for not following through the first time we met.” I laughed, if I recalled, you went out with your girlfriends and was going to call me once you got home, after 2 am, I never heard from you.” “Ok, mister; you are right, I had too much to drink that night, second time is a charm, so call me.” She gave me her number and walked away, all I could do is say damn to myself and not mention I filled up my tank with gas when I was only trying to put twenty dollars in my tank. She had me distracted with that big butt.

Two weeks later, we finally going on our first dinner date after spending days talking on the phone and catching up with each other from our first encounter. I felt like I had been knowing her for years. So this is how it all started.

Both fed up with being alone and the world of merry go round dating, Shaky and Dak decided to give online dating a shot.  For months they searched, started over and met up with individuals with the same old lame mentality and none seem to be that one they both were looking for.

     A few minutes later the two chatted back and forth online; this went on for about a week or so. Everything seem to be out on the table and very straight forward; getting along very well we decided to exchange numbers.  There was a instant connection, we talked and texted throughout the day for weeks.  Naturally, the next step would be to actually meet face to face.  It was then decided we would meet; of course, Shaky being the old-fashioned type when it comes to the dating scene; she insisted I take the lead on making the arrangements.  

     Being that my life was a bit more hectic, Shaky was good with being flexible because everything was going well, and she didn’t want to add any additional pressure to my complicated work life schedule; plus she worked from home. 

     Today, was the day we would finally meet, I couldn’t wait but some time had passed, so I texted and called Shaky, but she didn’t response to either. A couple of days went by and then the anxiety of waiting kicked in. I got worried at first, then it that turned into anger; “was she playing games, am I the topic of her next girlfriend outing?” I said to myself.  I wonder was this all just a big; let me see if I can get him Interested or a misunderstanding?  I decided to take it to God, I knew I really liked Shaky and felt she liked me too but what happened? That night I fell to my knees and took it to God.

“Lord, please guide me in the right direction, whatever you tell me to do I will do, but God, if this chic is not in the hospital with a leg or arm wrapped in a cast or had a family emergency requiring her to get on a airplane to Cheraw, forgive me for the pimp words I’m about to release from my tongue on her ass” Amen.

     I decided to give her three days, that is what I told God and God agreed.  Either she will reach out to me or I would reach out to her for a complete understanding of her disappearing act.  “Father give me the willpower; this is the longest three days I’ve ever been through waiting on a woman; sitting in the dark.” 

     A one-sided view of a relationship unfolding. My heart believes God is the key to every dilemma, challenge and good thing in my life. No matter what, He has the final word and say so. It’s not clear as to how strongly Shaky feels about my beliefs but it’s still early and patience is the one thing I know I need to work on. 

     My request was honored. Three days of her silence; God would show that he was listening to my prayers. Shaky rose from the concrete like a rose in Tupac’s poem after three days, but this felt like months for me. Shaky actually texted her on the third day and explained her circumstances. Not sure if I was buying all of what she was selling, but I knew how to keep the receipt of lies just in case I needed to get a refund upon my investigation.

     We seemed a bit closer even after that situation; still not defining their relationship or the desire to embark on one with each other; just letting it flow and continuing innocently flirting our attraction to one another. I’m still practicing patience and perhaps Shaky was practicing precautions, both unwilling to commit to calling this the beginning of a relationship. After a few weeks of bliss, Shaky once again fell of the radar… here we go again. 

     Refusing to believe Shaky didn’t get how important communication is to any relationship regardless of the dynamics, I couldn’t believe we were back to square one and once again, I was left sitting in the damn dark, but this time I took my ass to bed.

     Lying there for a few minutes in silence after trying to get my own mind and heart together; the phone rang, and it was confirmation on the start of a new job. That call made me feel good but still there was one more answer I needed. “Did she move on, was she not the one or was I not the one for her?” I wondered. I decided to call Shaky from my home phone, and she answered. I was very cautious in approaching the conversation because after all, we weren’t in a mutually committed relationship. “Should I express my anger or concerns?” I thought.  All I felt was disappointment because I thought better of Shaky.  

     Apparently, I forgot she had blocked Shaky after drinking wine all night the other night and forgot to unblock her. She sent me screen shot of all the messages she had sent me.  So, there it was, an issue of technology and misunderstanding. God did it again! Shaky and I are no longer sitting in the dark waiting for each other, I see a light leading me on a path that only God knows where it will lead us. Our communication has to get better moving forward. Shaky also agreed to do better on her end.

     For the most part, Shaky and I were living life. I wondered from time to time if I was too much for Shaky. Was she afraid of getting too close to me; for fear that I would hurt her? We haven’t really had much conversation about past lovers, likes or disasters…I didn’t ask her because that would mean she would have to be prepared to reciprocate with answers that I would rather not give at this stage of the relationship.

     Shaky would always mention being overweight and having love handles, was she kidding or was it a fishing expedition preparing me for something she thought could seriously affect the flow of this slow boat to China speed we were going. At this point, if Shaky thought she needed to be perfectly shaped and fit for me, then she really didn’t know me at all. Now I wasn’t expecting to meet Ester from Sanford and Sons. I had no idea; it had been almost two months and we still haven’t had sex with each other. Last night I was thinking would Shaky put her stamp of approval of me by introducing me to her kids.

     Finally, we decided to meet up halfway in Cedarville on New Years Eve, check into a hotel at ten o’clock on a Wednesday night, 2 hours before the new year. I checked in, go showered, put the baby oil on the night stand, set up the Bluetooth speaker to play some Heather Headley love tunes, chilled the bottle of wine and dim the lights. Texted Shaky the room number, second floor, room 204.

At midnight it was a New Year I would never forget; sitting in the dark room alone once again. 12:01am.

The End!

Pretty Poison by A.Dakala

Simon and I are still together; the wedding just got called off temporarily until I can get my thoughts together on exactly what I wanted to do. My friends say that I am living in a fantasy world and that I need to get my life together. Unfortunately Simon hasn’t always been the guy that they have grown to love, beyond the money and the materialistic gift given; he can be a asshole to the third degree.

I grew to love him out of boredom and settling for less. Over the years we both did manish to changed one way or another; and our once head over hills love for each other turned into arguments, fights and resentments. We had a set of friends who didn’t like each other, so getting everybody together for a weekend of bowling seemed impossible unless the bowling alley was heavily guarded with arm security. I wasn’t sure if Simon was homophobic or not but, he could not stand my guy friend Sandy because he was Gay. Lord knows I bet not tell him that Sandy was HIV positive, he would probably pack my bags and through them out the window while I am sleep.

Lately when I’ve been wanting Simon and I to go out on a weekend date night since he got his new car and even personalize his tag; “Mr. Simon” on it, but he makes up some of the poorest excuses I’ve ever heard. So, when he do I get my ass dress, call my friends; mainly Sandy, sneak in Simon’s wallet and take two or three hundred dollars, because my first few drinks go be on his ass and go to the bar downtown.

I have more fun with Sandy and my girlfriend Mina anyways but they always have my straight ass in this gay lounge called Scorpios. I do admit the LGBT community really knows how to party, but I’m straight and do not go that way.

When I left the house Simon was on his laptop downloading music; not sure where he is playing it at, because his car doesn’t have a cd player in it and he doesn’t play it around the house. He’s probably make cds for one of those bimbos in his office, those bitches do not like me at all. I tried to give him a kiss before I left but the negro pushed me off as if I was bothering his ass. As I drove off looking in my rearview mirror, I could see Simon peeping out of the window between the curtains. He’s up to something. I love this man so much but its obvious he don’t love me anymore in the same way or if he even loves me at all.

I met Mina at Sandy’s plushed out condo and parked my car. He lives in a luxury high rise apartment in Atlanta’s downtown Atlantic station area; on the forty second floor. When I say Sandy has style, this dude got all white everything, from leather furniture to white thick bearskin rugs. If I ever did a photo shoot it would be in his living room; naked because he not worried about seeing no pussy. Now my girlfriend Mina is a no nonsense person , who will fight your ass until her titties pop out her shirt; then fix her weave and makeup with your mirror afterwards. I keep her in my circle because we have so much in common. Oh, and she goes both ways sexually. She always have since we met in college; by accidentally dating the same guy. After we both showed up to his dorm to congratulate him on the basketball teams win. She hugged him, I hugged him, I kissed him and she smacked the hell out his ass. We both got kicked out the building and ended up being friends from that day forward. She’s really the life of the party. We took two rounds of shots and headed to Scorpios.

I still try to communicate with Simon just to keep him posted on what I was doing. Like always he will not answer his phone; but will text your ass to death and his ass can barely spell. Good thing he didn’t pick up; these shots got me talking shit and Tripping; I probably would have told him about his momma needing to put on deodorant next time she comes to visit us. I’m tired of disinfecting my house after she leaves.

We pulled up to Scorpio’s and we all was tipsy. Mina already started her people watching and Sandy scanning the parking trying to spot anyone he knows creeping. I had to warn Mina about driving so fast, as she pulled into a parking space next to this pretty red Porsche. Simon never kept his Porsche that clean, that’s why I don’t ride in it. “Girl, you bet not hit that pretty as whip; with that Mr. Simon personalized tag on it”, he said slowly looking at me.

The day I met Tupac, after his death by A. Dakala

Anybody that knows about hip hop have heard of Tupac Amari Shakur. Let me go further and educated you on what I know; he was born LeSane Parrish Crooks.

It was 1996, I was sitting on a friends grandmother’s porch on West blvd in Charlotte North Carolina waiting on the next dope fiend to hit my pager for some drugs. That day I was back and forth hustling the streets, Tupac was on my mind heavy that day since he had just got shot in Vegas. I just thought the homie would make it through. As me and some guys were planning out our next hustle moves; the world came to a stop. Music in all surrounding cars paused; the radio jocks announced with saddness in their voices; Tupac Amari Shakur has just been pronounced dead!

I wanted to punch a got damn wall. I was so hurt, I was sad, I was pissed, I was angry and I felt whoever did this just murdered the only voice that represented the young black generation of my time.

Even after the media assummed his death, it was hard to believe. The day I met Tupac was one I would never forget.

I did my research on the man I called the greatest rap artist of all time. If you didn’t love his craft and skills ; you are and were just a pure hater. His story touched the world like Michael, Whitney and Prince touched so many. Whether you liked his character, you respected his work as a musical genius. Never have there been an artist that spoke with so much conviction and truth in his words. Only one other artist I knew did that. An unsigned artist name “Stoneface” albums Georgia Scars and Krytonite; look him up on Amazon.com. Check out the song “Kontrol”. That’s another story for another day.

I was so intrigued by Tupac’s life, like many others were; I contacted the Las Vegas police myself to speak with Detective Scott Poole myself. They transferred me to his desk but he didn’t answer so I left a message for him to return my call and that I was a reporter from the Baltimore Sun newspaper. Detective Poole never called me back.

So my next move was to go over to the Tupac center in Stone Mountain, Georgia. Once I entered the parking lot i felt something. As I was walking through the peacefully garden, I felt his energy. Looking at all the contributers that had their names engraved on the bricks. I stared at this 7 foot bronze statue for over 15 minutes, absorbing his greatness, admiring his gift; feeling blessed for the moment I was having; just me and him. The flowers in the peacefully garden we’re bright, birds chirping; I reached out and grabbed his hand and introduced myself as one of his biggest fan. I didn’t care who heard me talking to this bronze statue; he’s Tupac. Over my shoulder I could hear “He was a great son, loved by the world; loved by people like yourself” Afeni said. I turned and couldn’t believe it was her, a tall black beautiful darkskin woman who gave birth to a man with a purpose; that the world knew and loved. I felt like I was dreaming. She removed her blue gloves that were dirty from the plants she were planting in the soil. Her arm reached out to acknowledge me with a hand shake, “I don’t bite, I’m Afeni” she said. My hands shook, as my palms touched her palms. “It’s a honor and pleasure to meet you Mrs. Shakur” i said. She placed her arm around my shoulder as we both stood there staring at Tupac. She asked had I been here before, but when she learn I haven’t; she escorted me to the lobby of the building. There she introduced me to the Black Panther history, right there on the walls. There were articles and newspaper clippings of her Black Panther movement days; all the way up to the time she gave birth to LeSane Parrish Crooks in prison. My last journey with her was the studio equipment Tupac once used, surrounded by a glass barrier. “Go ahead have a seat in his chair”. I was honored. We made small talk for a hour more , then she said she was headed home for the evening. I had one last question for Afeni, “Is your son truly dead?” She replied with a slight smile,”Tupac still lives amongst all of us”.

We hugged and I left there feeling empowered to speak through my own gifts as he did.

The next day I wrote Afeni a letter, thanking her for being so kind, loving, caring and educating me on Tupac’s life. I mailed the letter to the center. Not sure if she would respond back or not. I checked my mail box eveyday.

I continued to do my own Tupac investigation. I wanted to reach out to Deathrow Records, but I wasn’t fucking with Suge; that negro crazy and I had my own opinion on who was responsible for Tupac’s shootings. Notice I said shooting because I wasnt convince he was dead or I didn’t want to believe he was. I reach out to a Havana Cuba’s consul by searching online:

Embassies in the Vedado District

US interest section
Calzada between L & M streets
Vedado La Habana
Tel +53 7 833.35.51

They took my email address then emailed me back with questions and what was my purpose of inquiries about Cuba. I responded back; I’m looking for Tupac Amari Shakur. The exact email said, why and who are you? I said a family friend; whoever was on the other end replied, no person by that name lives here in the city of Havana. They never responded back to me after several more of my attempts. I reached out to Mutulu Shakur via email, he was locked up in prison; we talked back and forward through emails for about four months but the letters stopped. He was Tupac’s step father, Mopreme and Set’s father (Tupac’s brother and sister)
I got a letter from Afeni two weeks later, she apologized for the late response, but she was traveling after getting married. She left me her home address as we emailed back and forth for months.

I never mentioned this to Afeni and when she passed away I cried, I cried and I cried. I hate that the Tupac Foundation Center closed down too, but his legacy lives on. I never got to meet her son, I’m but I saw him through her eyes, felt him through her hands, talks, huggs and letters; and I still listen to his music daily.

RIP- #Lesane parrish crooks tupac amari shakur.

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑