Tag Archives: Shootings

The Streets don’t really love You!!!

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I wanna take ya on a tour to Gangland…Nah, son, this ain’t Graceland…
…People die of everyday violence…killers & hustlers move in silence…

…All y’all little Niggas think ya real hard…
…until you’re found buried in a junkyard…

…You think you got what it takes to stay turned-up…
…but, you’re no match for the Big-Dogs: still a pup…

…These dudes are serious…they not playin’ no games…
…they on they grind: twenty-four hours & seven days…

…Don’t think cause they play cool, they won’t shoot…
…they’ll run in your crib, gripped-up & ready to loot…

…They play for keeps…this ain’t the game for lil’ boys…
…they got guns that shake the block wit a lot of noise…

…38’s, 45’s, Mac-11’s…
…AR-15’s…AK-47’s…

…Drivin’ down streets wit the windows down…
…they pickin’-off pretenders & all the clowns…

…The fake ones are always caught off-guard…
…all ya left wit are tragic deaths & deep scars…

…Countless funerals and burials your family’s going to…
…because you rep’d a “Thuglife” you thought was true…

…You thought you were invisible, no one could touch ya…
…until the Angel of Death came to ya and said “I gotcha”…

…But, too late, now: your life ended way too fast…
…the last sound you ever heard was a gun’s blast…

…The Streets didn’t protect you or keep you safe from harm…
…they let ya get stung by the venomous Ghetto-Bees’ swarm…

…What the Streets did for you is get ya caught-up…
…that’s the price you paid to for tryin’ to be tough…

…So, this was our tour through Gangland…like I said, it ain’t Graceland…
…live your life with a different plan…stop being a Thug, start being a Man.

Gareth Bryant/2014

My thoughts on Trayvon Martin!!!

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I am Trayvon Martin!!!

It could’ve easily been me gunned down, like a dog, because of the color of my skin.
Law-enforcement would protect the murderers and give no justice to my kith and kin.

I am Trayvon Martin, too.
This could have been you.

To them, I’m just another Nigger, they would gladly celebrate my death, caused by my killer.
It’s the same the world over: the oppressed are criminalized, while the tyrant is made winner.

I am Trayvon Martin, too.
This could have been you.

It’s truly a shame that I must always live my life as a living target, with a bull’s-eye on my chest.
I’m constantly placed upon the edge, walking on eggshells, this keeps me paranoid & stressed.

I am Trayvon Martin, too.
This could have been you.

Why is the Black man always on the endangered-species list?
It’s like it’s my destiny, to forever be victimized in this matrix.

I am him and he is me.
It is truly a sad reality.

Gareth Bryant/2012

My thoughts on the Street-Life!!!

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Author’s note:
The following poem is inspired by the realities of the street-life, which is unfortunately, often unjustly & unnecessarily glorified by media, via T.V. & film. This is a poem, which deems to compel people, especially the ever-impressionable youth, who may read it, to seriously contemplate the consequences of a gangster-life.

Lookin’ down the barrel of dat Gun!!!

Yo, son, the drama is so real, in these streets, out there.
You had betta be conscious of Allah & have some fear.

Yo, this street-life is not a joke.
This shit will change your scope.

Lookin’ down the barrel of dat Gun is no fun!!!

I know, cause I done really been there.
These streets are mean, better beware.

It’s not okay to seek to live the life of a gangster, because your life will either be ruined or it will end.
You will either end up dead, or in prison; either way, your life will be wasted, just for trying to blend.

Lookin’ down the barrel of dat Gun is no fun!!!

Attempting to be what ya see in a movie, or on a T.V. show will get you caught up.
All of this could be avoided, if only you were yourself, instead of tryin’ to be tough.

Tryin’ to be dominant in these streets never works for anyone, it’s a very savage environment.
Success in the street-life is very often short-lived, it makes people both reckless and arrogant.

Lookin’ down the barrel of dat Gun is no fun!!!

Now, just imagine, a snub-nosed .38 Special is pointed 6 inch. from your face.
There is nothing you can do, can’t run or hide, there is no safe haven or space.

You’re stuck where you are, you’re breathing really heavy.
Your life flashes before ya eyes, and everything’s all blurry.
There’s only a last-minute second to think about what could’ve and should’ve been.
But, alas, the one with the gun, who’s holding ya life in his hands, decides to cash in.

It’s the end of the road of the street-life; we’re left askin’ why & how.
All of a sudden, the finger on the trigger pulls, and all you hear is…
…BLA-KOW, BLA-KOW!!!

As the smoke clears, there’s nothin’ to see, but the flow of tears.
But, by the mercy of Allah, you’ve manage to make it outta here.

This is the danger that lies ahead, for all the wanna be gangsters.
For those who choose to pursue the street-life, will you not fear?

Gareth Bryant/2012

The Mercy of Allah Can Never be Measured by any of Us:

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My story about how merciful Allah has been to me personally:

I distinctly remember, a few years ago, as I was still struggling with my own ego & desires to become more religious, more of a true Muslim, I used to party a lot. It’s was like I was at every single jump-off-I was just everywhere. I was a well-known party-dude in my day, but this is not about my party-days; but, rather, this is about an event that compled me to quit partying. I used to frequent several dancehalls & clubs, obviously being a Muslim at the time indulging in so many things unbecoming of a Muslim in the first place, there was one party that I had went to, one night, that really changed my life.

It was a bout 1:30am.-The party had just started gettin’ live, people were packing themselves into the party spot, and like at any party, people are dancing, drinking, smoking, trying to leave with somebody, to wake up with them the following morning, the usual club life-style. Anyway, I was no different at the time than anyone else who indulged in this life-style. But, this night, things were really different.

This one clown starts a fight with someone, which just comes with the territory of the urban club atmosphere: Dudes from other hoods got beef with one another, either over a bruised ego, gang-affiliation, drug-turf, money, girls, or just random dumb stuff, like the proverbial “he stepped on my sneakers”, which, actually happens sadly (all of the above in most cases). Well, I don’t know who started the fight & I didn’t really care, I was just pissed that people never wanted to jst have a good time, especially Niggas (Yeah…..I said Niggas!!!). So, as the altercation went on, dude pulls out a gun (which by the way is oh so easy to sneak into clubs, still til this very day, it’s just what it is).

To make matters worse, people who see the gun start a mad frenzy of a chant, “Gun…Gun…Gun!!!”. Now, growing up in the hood, I know for a fact that when someone yells, “Gun”, or any word remotely akin to “Gun”, it means that 9-10 someone’s either gonna get shot at or shot down. So, as Humans we naturally all panic & start trying to use one another as shields, to prevent getting shot at. Then, the dude just starts shooting at the crowd…..

Now, here’s where Allah’s mercy steps in & saves the day, literally:

…..Now, keep this in-mind: As a Muslim, I wasn’t supposed to be there, partying, anyway, or doing any of the other things that occur at these parties. So, here I am, this wanna-be Muslim, doing things prior to my life being in imminent danger that was obviously Islamically prohibited, and now, my back is against the wall, literally, not knowing whether I’m gonna live or die (I really don’t know how many of you all out there have been in a similar situation; but, just in case you haven’t, let me tell you know: Being shot at is not fun!!!). But what happens next is why I’m even here to write this-The dude who shot at us missed every single shot that he fired, no joke-The guy was less than 5 feet away from the crowd, and even though the lights were off & it’s so scary & confusing at the same time, I could see him pointing the gun at all of us, just lettin’ off, round by round, by round, and yet, no one got hit.

So, after he emptied, he tried to reload & that’s when the crowd decided to rush the guy & get the hell out of dodge before he decides to use as as target practice again. For a long time, I was just astounded as to why I didn’t die, or, at the very least, get shot, because I know that I particularly was definitely within his firing range. It really wasn’t until I became more religious that I had realized that it really wasn’t so much of him not having good aim that saved my life, but it was Allah the One who controls life & death, who decided that it wasn’t my time yet & I’m most certainly grateful that he chose to preserve my life even in spite of the fact that I was committing blatant acts of disobedience towards Him, in front of Him.

This experience was one of many necessary happenings, which still stand as definitive signs of Allah’s existence, power, and particularly His mercy, because realistically, Allah didn’t have to allow me to live on. The things which I’ve done were so shameful, from an Islamic perspective, that if I were not myself, I would’ve punish myself for doing those things. But, this is why Allah is who He is & we are who we are. Now obviously, I can’t predict how exactly Allah chose to keep me safe, I can take a pretty good guess: I’m guessing that He sent Angels to that particular place, to protect not just me but the whole crowd, even people who were not Muslims were protected. That’s even more amazing than me, a disobedient Muslim, still being protected.  I’m guessing that they wrapped there wings around the crowd, basically an angelic bullet-proof vest, stronger than any type of teflon vest out there.

Honestly, it doesn’t even matter how Allah chose to save me, or even whom He chose to use to save me, the point is that He did save me, and that’s something that I’m always compelled to think & reflect upon, the night when my life could’ve came to a bitter end.

Gareth Bryant/2013