One Chance Chapter 1

Posted in Uncategorized on June 5, 2018 by drevolution357

Chapter 1

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I have to accept that the world isn’t like me and I’m not like the world, good, bad or indifferent. I’ve searched for myself in others because I never saw myself in the mirror.

Real life situations can break your heart into pieces, in ways no human being can. We judge each other like we all had the same start. If that was the case, I would see more fucked up people like me. Chicago is a merciless city, thank God I got out when I did.

I was never taught how to live only how to survive. The things people took for granted every day I had no recollection of. I grew up with poor hygiene because my mother didn’t teach me how to take a bath every night or to brush my teeth every day. This is not a story about another black kid who grew up in poverty. This story is about a young man who located the silver lining and used his disadvantages to become a man.

Growing up, I had one brother and one sister that were a little older than me. I had the type of siblings who constantly plotted against me to get a rise out of me. When my mother would leave the house, they would put knives to my neck and tell me they were going to kill me. I would tell them I loved them and say,”Why are you doing this to me?”, they would laugh and say, “We are going to kill you.” Sometimes they would both grab me and put me in the closet. Mostly they would fuck with me by whispering to each other, looking at me and laughing. I think it has had a psychological effect on me. My mom was unaware and I can’t remember ever telling her about it.

I found my refuge playing outside with my friends Juan and Maurice. We all were between the ages of nine and ten. Every day we would race each other. Every day Maurice would win, Juan would come in second and I would be in last place. Juan and Maurice lived up the hill of my block. Juan lived in an apartment upstairs from a church his family owned and Maurice lived with his father. I lived in a house that my mom rented from my aunt. The best thing about being a poor kid is that you don’t know you’re poor. There were times I  looked at Maurice as a poor kid and felt sorry for him: his pants were always too big and he lived in a very small one-room apartment with his father. Every time I went to see him the apartment smelled like beans.

Being poor and witnessing what others didn’t have, including myself, often plays a part in the decisions you make later in life. My mom taught us how to hustle at a young age because her childhood wasn’t a walk in the park. When I was around nine, my mom taught me and my brother how to sell weed. Our mailbox was embedded in our front door. When customers came knocking, they would slide their money through the mailbox and in return got a ten dollar bag of weed. We never had to open the door or see the face of anyone. Mom would also give us five candy bars to take to school to sell to our friends. We sold candy, soda and weed out of our home. Every year we sold fireworks for the Fourth of July. We made a lot of sales during that time of the year.

One year all the kids on the block were playing with fireworks and having fun. Daryl, who lived across the street from us, always wanted to find garden snakes so he could light firecrackers in their mouths. One time I saw a garden snake’s mouth ripped open from the explosion. While we all lit our firecrackers, Jumping Jacks and Roman candles, Maurice stood there watching us. I didn’t understand why he didn’t have anything to light. I asked him did he have anything to play with and he said, “No.” I suddenly felt uneasy and became silent. I felt bad for him. I had already lit all of my Roman candles so I ran back into the house, hoping to find something to give Maurice. I started crying. I don’t know why, but I really felt bad that he didn’t have anything and I didn’t quite understand.

When I walked in the house, my brother was sitting there with two Roman candles. My brother was the type of person who purposely waited for everyone else to light their fireworks and just when everyone was finished, he would pull his stuff out and let everyone beg him to share his stuff. For example, if we all had Big Macs he would wait until my sister and I finished eating and then eat his. Basically, he went out of his way to be selfish. This night, I fell into his trap and asked him for one of his Roman candles. He said no. Just then Mom walked into the room and wanted to know why I was crying. I told her about Maurice and she offered my brother, two dollars to purchase one of his Roman candles. I was so happy. I took the Roman candle, ran outside and up the hill frantically yelling, “Maurice! Maurice! I got a Roman candle for you!” He looked at me like it was no big deal. It gave me joy to watch him light the candle. It was the first of many defining moments in my life. I was young and my mind was free. I had not yet realized that the world around me was not the fairytale I had in my mind.

As a kid, your mind is very impressionable. My mom was already teaching me how to hustle without me thinking twice about it. She also was teaching me to keep my mouth shut. My mother constantly reminded me what happened in the house stayed in the house” and everybody didn’t have to know our business. I was the youngest of three so the neighbors always questioned me if they wanted to know something. But I was smart and would get offended when someone asked me about my family business. It was amazing to see the look on an adult’s face when a ten-year-old’s response was “That’s none of your business!”

We lived in the Roseland area of Chicago at the time. Daryl was the guy we all sort of looked up to on the block. He was a little older than the rest of us, but he always knew the latest fashion and Kung Fu movies. He was a little more knowledgeable about everything than the rest of us. Daryl would give us survival tips such as if you had potatoes you always had a meal. Sometimes he would ask if we had certain food items in our house and he would match what he had in his house with ours and we’d share a meal together; he was a street-savvy like that. Although Daryl was a street guy, he was a cool guy. Being friends with Daryl was good for us because he knew how to do things and get things done.

There were times when we would go to the game room to play Pac Man and it didn’t matter that Daryl didn’t have money. He always had a way to get anyone to give him a quarter. In those days it was tough to get a quarter. Daryl eventually taught us how to cheat the video games and play as many as we liked. We would get a quarter, drill a hole in it and put a long piece of thread through the center. We would put the quarter in the game we wanted to play, then yanked it out just as the game gave us credit. We would do this all day until the store owner started getting smart about what we were doing. We were video game junkies: Bozek, Tempest, Ms. Pacman and Galaga.

My mom was very well-known for playing Pac-Man. She loved the game and figured out how to defeat each maze. Every time she played a crowd would surround her, though it was rare for her to go to the game room and play an arcade game.

Mom thought Daryl was bad news though. My brother and Daryl were really good friends. Mom and my brother were always arguing about him hanging out with Daryl, but eventually, she warmed up to him. After my brother tried to run away from home because he had to do the dishes and we didn’t know where he had been the entire day, Daryl caught him and brought him back home. Mom whipped his ass and still made him do the dishes.

My siblings and I were shielded from poverty because there was always money around. Mom kept a glass bowl on top of the television with money in it just in case we needed bread or something. When we came from school or if we sold some weed we could put the money in the bowl. Mom dealt with mostly cash because she would go to the flea market on the weekends and sell stolen merchandise that junkies would shoplift from stores.

During the week, Mom worked for the only black newspaper in Chicago, the Chicago Defender, as an accountant, but her heart and soul was in the flea market. My mother always talked about being a business owner and her own boss. During this time, she was making enough money to send all three of us to Catholic School and pay the tuition. We were the only kids on the block going to Catholic school. All the other kids on my block went to public school. We had to wear a uniform every day. I learned to love it, but my experiences in Catholic School there were not always good. I had a couple of horrible teachers.  I wish teachers understood the effect they had on students and how their influence could have an everlasting effect on a child.

My fifth-grade teacher, Ms. Langdon, came to school with her acoustic guitar and would have the whole class sing her country music songs. Ms. Langdon’s eyes were always bloodshot red and at times you could smell liquor on her breath.

When I was in school all I ever wanted was the teachers to notice me and give me attention the way they gave “so-called” good students. I grew up feeling like most of my teachers hated me. My fears were realized when Ms. Langdon made an announcement that she couldn’t find her keys and if anyone saw her keys to please turn them in. The class fell silent and no one came forward. She made this announcement every day and with each day she became more intense.

Ms. Langdon: “Please can someone return my keys! This will cost me a lot of money. I’ve had to catch a ride to work all this week! I can’t get into my home!”

The class went silent after each speech. She was clearly frustrated and by Friday she was a wreck. She gave the speech once more, then paused, looked at me and yelled at the top her lungs, “Give me my keys! I know you have my keys!” I said, “I don’t have your keys.”

Ms. Langdon walked over to me, grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hallway repeating herself over and over. “Where are my keys!? Where are my keys!?” My answer never changed. I was afraid, embarrassed and hurt that the entire week when she was making her speech about her keys she was really speaking to me.

On Monday morning her keys were returned to her by my classmate Gary. Gary was the quietest student in the class. Ms. Langdon never apologized to me or acknowledged that I had nothing to do with her keys. I believe those actions had a psychological effect on me. For years I would feel guilty about things that had nothing to do with me; if someone lost keys, cell phone or money, I always felt they were looking at me. I always felt guilty.

Aside from Ms. Langdon, Catholic School was good for me. I’m still in contact with some of the people I went to school with today. It was great because there was very little competition among us. We wore uniforms, but in Chicago, everything was about the latest fashion. The closest we got to a fashion show at school were the shoes we wore. They were the only articles of clothing that were not a part of the dress code. I got used to wearing a shirt and tie and after a while found my swag in wearing my uniform, but there was nothing better than coming home on a Friday and taking it off .

I loved coming home to what I considered the best place of my childhood. When you entered the front room, there was a wall of beautifully designed mirrors. We all had our own bedrooms as well as a nice size kitchen, a huge basement, and backyard. These were the good times. Every Christmas was better than the last. Mom would go all out to decorate the house. We’d spray paint the windows with fake snow and let the Christmas lights shine all night on an artificial tree. There was no better feeling in the world, then when I would get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and see the Christmas lights. It was like magic to me. I would become the lights and breathe in the beautiful colors and exhale without a worry in the world. It’s not like I had serious worries at ten years old. My biggest worry was if my mother’s boyfriend Marvin was bringing us some Church’s Chicken. He didn’t live too far from us. Many times we would call him to bring us something to eat and he would do it. But between Marvin coming over, there were a lot of women visiting us too.

I can remember my sister crying. She said, “I saw momma kissing another woman!” I can remember my mom trying to defuse my sister’s anger by denying it. My sister was absolutely sure she saw my mother kissing Rose. Rose was a friend of my mom who came over to the house now and then. I don’t remember seeing Rose after the accusations. This was the early eighties. People were not as open as they are now so my sister voicing what she saw was very taboo.

Although my mom was still married to my father, I had not seen him in years. She left him when I was probably about a year old. So I don’t have any memory of living with him. But as I grew up, I heard all the horror stories of what he had done. Though my mom never really spoke negatively of him directly to me, I wasn’t a fool. I read between the lines.  Mom dated several men throughout my young life. The men she dated were really cool. I can remember all of their names, but all the relationships seemed to end very badly.

In the midst of the men, there were always women around. My mom was notorious for letting people live with us. So over the years, many people came and went. People lived with us all the time. There are two people in particular that were around the most. A woman named Carolyn and Marvin. I don’t remember Carolyn or Marvin ever being in the house at the same time. Marvin was a good man. He used to give me money and take me shopping. Marvin seemed to really appreciate us.

I remember when his mother passed. He was never the same after that. I saw a man change right in front of my eyes. It’s like he stopped caring about us. He eventually left my mom for another woman. It was awkward enough that the woman stayed around the corner from us, but I was friends with her kids too.

Carolyn was a bad woman. For a long time, I didn’t think she liked kids. It seemed that she despised us. She drank all the time and did all types of shit. Apparently, she was a good friend to my mom because Mom had her around a lot and wouldn’t let us speak badly about her.

One late night Carolyn was drunk and she began to explain to us that she and my mom had a relationship. Deep down I think we all assumed, but we never spoke of it. As long as my mom didn’t say anything, we didn’t ask. Every now and then, a neighbor would make a joke or the kids on the block would spread rumors. This particular night apparently my mom was in the bedroom sleeping and she had locked Carolyn out. Carolyn started bragging to us that if we didn’t believe that she and Mom were sleeping together that she was willing to prove it. She knocked on the bedroom door and began to sweet-talk my mom through the door. After about five minutes, Mom opened the door and let her in. She didn’t know we were all standing outside the door. As soon as the door closed, me, my brother and sister fell to the floor in disbelief. You would’ve thought someone died! Just then, my mom came out of the bedroom to go to the bathroom, she saw us and asked what was wrong. When she realized what Carolyn had done, a big argument broke out. It was official. The speculation was over. The hardest part about my mom being a lesbian was her accepting it herself; the more she accepted it the easier life was for the family.

My mom was a unique individual. She was a very strong woman and had no problem expressing whatever she was feeling. She never sugar coated anything. After many years, my mom became comfortable having her girlfriends around us. Some of her girlfriends even lived with us. Mom never apologized for who she was, therefore I never looked at her as a gay woman, she was just Mom. It was nothing I ever thought about or even worried about. All my friends loved her and all my girlfriends looked up to her. We can spend our lifetime trying to live up to others’ standards, but it’s not until you’re on your deathbed that you realize that these standards are false impressions of what society wants you to think.

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Posted in Uncategorized on December 4, 2017 by drevolution357


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on September 18, 2018
One Chance To Be A Man by D. Revolution is a story of life, of woe, survival, being complacent, success and growth….his life. This book kept me fully engaged and wondering what he would do next and/or what would happen next. We experience many points in his life and a few of those of his family members. Some I could understand, some I had to accept as is. It took me through a range of emotions and frustrations and I was glad when he started on HIS path. D. Revolution penned a story that was so real that one could see this story as it happened. It even answered a thing or two about men that I was curious of. Thank you for sharing and wishes for the best always.



This is a gritty autobiography of one man’s struggle to go beyond the life he was born into, to escape the violence and poverty of Chicago and choose a different way to live. I liked this book because the author was able to write about his successes and failures in a way that we can all relate to: life often feels like you take one step forward and two steps back. He asks the hard questions and is finding his answers. Sometimes even when you find your passion, it’s still a struggle and life doesn’t necessarily get any easier


on August 22, 2018
I truly enjoy this book from beginning to end. It kept my attention and I didnt want be put it. I recommend it to my mom.
on June 4, 2018
‘One Chance To Be A Man’ is the realist book I have read in a long time! It is intense and inspiring. Definitely a recommended read.


We Are LIT

May 20 at 7:21am · 

Indie Spotlight ‘One Chance to Be A Man’ by D-Revolution is a remarkable book reflecting on the life of a man coming up in the streets of Chicago trying to achieve his dreams of becoming a screenplay writer and poet; while constantly coming head to head with the perils of crime, poverty, family dysfunction, failed relationships, bad decisions, and the quest for inner peace.

One Chance To Be A Man is a beautifully prose.


I took a detour from what I planned to read this weekend to read One Chance To Be A Man by D-Revolution Spoken Word Man. I read it in one sitting. I classify books I read into two categories: Books that dissipate and Books that become part of my spirit. ‘One Chance To Be A Man’ is part of my spirit

on April 4, 2018
This book is a real page turner from beginning to end! I absolutely loved it. It gives a look into the mind of the writer as he endured life in the streets of Chicago. Waiting on part 2. Thanks for telling your story.


on April 14, 2018
Format: Perfect Paperback|Verified Purchase
A very good read my friend. This book brought back memories from when I was growing up in the Chi. Chicago is a tough city to live in.. Glad u weathered the storm my friend, keep your head up

April 7, 2018

I met D-Rev on the spoken word scene over 10 years ago. His poetry caught a lot of us Nashville poets by surprise! I was taken aback by his raw, gritty and real storytelling. This novel had the same effect on me. Each page is gripping and suspenseful – challenging me to take a deeper look at the heart of the Black Man. Learning about D-Rev’s childhood and the challenges of growing up exposed to violence, drugs, and gangs in Chicago helps me to understand the things that impact the way a man thinks. I recommend that If you are male or female, black or white, you need to read this book as it will help you solve the mystery of and understand the complexities of the heart and mind of a black man in America. I laughed. I cried. My heart went out to him as he bore his soul on those intense pages. From his desperation to survive to the relentless pursuit of his dreams, D-Revolution’s autobiography is one of the best I’ve read, worthy of the big screen. -Imani Rhema, Soul Food Poetry Cafe.


D-Revolution Bro!! Your book is phenomenal!! I almost finished it in one sitting!! Your story needs to be on the big screen, small screen, streamed or on stage!! Man, powerful stuff here. Proud of you my dude!! You were always a special talent and you definitely have my support in any of your endeavors!! Real talk. Stay up my dude!! -Andre Snell


Excellent Book!! If you haven’t ordered your copy please be advised you’re missing out on a very Good book this is the best book I have read this year!

Thank you D-Revolution you really opened my eyes about some things.


💖 -Fatima


SO I JUST FINISHED YOUR BOOK. “Storytelling is such s vital source of energy in our world, and D-Revolution’s stories have definitely taken their place in history” –J.Ivy Grammy Award winner, Author, and Def Poetry Jam poet, DEFINITELY MADE ME CRY damn trials and tribulations thank you for sharing.I REALLY ENJOYED IT! -Frashon
Congratulations to D-Revolution Spoken Word Man on his book. It was a great read! Absolutely loved it. Yall check out his website i promise you won’t be disappointed..
Thealda BonnerLatham

April 3, 2018

Format: Perfect Paperback
I consider myself to be an avid reader and I usually start with the introduction, it let’s me know if I want to read the book now or later.
I must admit this introduction got me…hook, line and sinker. I
I’m not into autobiographies, but this book is not that kind of read; this is the kind of read that you have to share with others…it’s motivational and inspiring, it let’s you know that just because you’re raised in a certain kind of environment doesn’t mean that’s the kind of life you have to live.
I could go on and on about this book and the author but I won’t. Bravo D. Revolution 👍👌👊

April 1, 2018

Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase
This book kind of surprised me. I decided to read this memoir, without expectations, mainly just knowing of this writer through his poetry. His memoir left me with a mixture of emotions, from page to page, especially with my not being able to “guess” what might be happening next. I’ve never read anything quite like this, and then to keep remembering that is someone’s truth–it’s deep stuff. Talk about a survivor–someone who’s greatness is birthed through such pain and hardship. One Chance To Be a Man has really touched my heart. It’s a powerful read, and I appreciate D. Revolution allows us in to view the footage of his life. Now, when’s the film coming out???
Cathy Anderson

March 20, 2018

Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase
I am quite impressed with the author’s ability to write taking me as the reader into his world. It’s easy reading with just enough details. I often had to remind myself that this is not one of those “stories” of fantasy that I am used to reading but this is a part of someone’s real life. So kudos to the author of the book! D-Rev and his writing abilities are awesome. I definitely look forward to reading more to come.

March 22, 2018

Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase
One chance to be a man is a quick read. Read it in only two sittings, do not let that fool you that it’s an easy read. Gritty and real, it offers insight on the plight of growing up in a harsh environment and the realizations and actions to make it out of that environment successfully. I would definitely recommend it.
Kindle Customer

March 12, 2018

Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase
“One Chance To Be A Man” gives an in-depth account of the author’s journey from boyhood to manhood. It is filled with gritty accounts of life altering situations. Every page is filled with drama, intrigue, and the will to survive. You will not want to put this book down until you have read the very last page.I highly recommend you get this book today and get started on this exciting literary journey. It is a great book. I loved every minute of it!


This book is passionate, articulate, and creative. “One Chance to Be a Man” unapologetically describes the frustrations felt from a life filled with intense and consecutive challenges. D-Revolution’s ability to evoke strong images with his gritty and honest reflections of the past and present creates a 3-D image for the reader with his intense descriptions. The book focuses on the writer’s introspection and self-actualization despite painful hallmarks in his life. This book is a testament to D-Revolution’s success as a writer and a man.


This book has taken story-telling to another level..The first chapter prepares you for the journey.. You can hear the honesty and pain his voice. I give 4-stars because he leaves you wanting more..When the last chapter finishes you’ll call a friend and share what you just read. THIS IS A COLLECTOR’S ITEM..


Chicago poet and first-time author D-Revolution’s book may become the most important book in Black America. -Dr. Kenneth Bowers.



“Storytelling is such s vital source of energy in our world, and D-Revolution’s stories have definitely taken their place in history” –J.Ivy Grammy Award winner, Author, and Def Poetry Jam poet

“D-Revolution paints a poetic picture of the urban landscape with his writing” –Carl Seaton, Writer, and Director

“A true revolutionary, D-Revolution is one of the most prolific writers on the scene today. The rest of the world needs to get on board with D-Revolution” –Dr. Sandra Holt

“D-Revolution is a very gifted and exceptional writer, who delivers uplifting and powerful messages while captivating his reader” -Janiro Hawkin II, Founder, Southern Entertainment Awards

“ D-Revolution.. your words bring worlds.” –Saul Williams, actor and poet


Book Excerpt

Posted in Uncategorized on October 24, 2017 by drevolution357

Eventually, I focused back on my crack hustle. I wasn’t making a lot of money because I was no longer living in the building. Every time I recouped a new stash, I was sold some bullshit.There was a short supply on the streets. A lot of dealers were selling B12 instead of crack and I couldn’t tell the difference. It was all white. Once a crack head bought from me and it was some bullshit they wouldn’t come back. I started working odd jobs. I was twenty-three years young and I had to fend for myself. I found a temporary job. I was working one temp job after another. I purchased Tupac’s new CD “Me Against the World” simply because of the title. Tupac had a way of saying things that justified my life and how I felt. I wanted to live and be loved. I was never given a blueprint on how to live. My mother came from nothing and was not able to teach me how to live only how to survive. My mom was only able to teach us what she knew.

I got hired with a group of guys to help rehab a house on the west side of Chicago. I had never done that type of work before, but was at the address bright and early, ready to work. At about noon my pager started going crazy. I was in a renovated house. There was no phone. I borrowed change from another worker. My pager continued going off. I recognized that it was Brenda’s number, but was getting pages from other numbers too.  I had to ride around for a while to find a pay phone not only a pay phone but a phone that worked. I had to call Brenda collect because another phone took my money.

Brenda: “Your mom is in the hospital.”

Me: “What happened?”

Brenda: “I’m not sure, but she fainted at her job.”

My mother worked a summer job every year for the state.

Me:“What hospital is it?”

Brenda: “Northwestern.”

Me:“Where is that?”

Brenda:“Somewhere downtown.”

I hung up the phone, I felt uneasy. I didn’t feel like it was serious. Should I keep working? Do I have enough gas to get there? I don’t want to lose this gig. That voice in my head told me to go.

I walked into the hospital and my sister was already there. My aunt walked in right behind me. Wow, this must be more serious than I originally thought if my aunt’s here. The doctor pulled us into a room and explained that they were trying to stabilize her so they could perform surgery, I said, “Surgery? What do you mean surgery?” The doctor looked at me and said, “Did you guys know your mother used cocaine?” I said, “Yes,” My aunt and sister said, “No.” The doctor continued, “Your mother has high blood pressure and a swollen blood vessel in her brain. The cocaine only made her blood pressure higher which made the blood vessel pop.” The doctor compared it to a tire and said “If you put too much air in a tire it will eventually pop.” She informed us that even with surgery that my mother would never be the same again. I said, “Huh? What does that mean doctor!?” “That means if your mom comes out of this she will not be able to speak or communicate or do anything for herself.” “So you’re saying my mom will be a vegetable?” The doctor said, “We try to stay away from those terms, but she will be comatose.” Wow, now the reality of the situation set in and I was not sure if I wanted them to perform surgery on her. What’s the point of her being alive if she can’t live?

I saw a white priest walking through the corridor of the hospital. A voice in my head said, “Ask him to pray for your mom.” No! I’m not doing that! The voice said, “This may be the only chance you have to save your mom.” I followed the priest and at the right moment, I asked him to pray for my mom. He walked me to a corner, held my hand and prayed. I thanked him. More of my family showed up. My brother flew in from Nashville. My mom was on life support. We all took turns privately speaking with her. I went in the room and didn’t know what to say. I held her hand and said, “Mom” my voice cracked, then I said, “Mom I will always represent you, I will tell your story.” My tears started to form in my eyes, but I stopped them. I felt if I cried, I had officially accepted that she was dead.

My mother’s name was Audrey L. Adams. The date was July 27, 1995. The doctor called my sister, brother and myself into a room; she stated that she only wanted to speak with us. My aunt came in the room totally ignoring the doctor’s request, so it was three of us and my aunt. That really irritated me. My aunt kept trying to push her lie that my mom wasn’t on drugs, though most of the time my mom was getting high she was getting high with her. I felt if there was ever a time to be honest, it was now. My aunt said that she was worried about the insurance. Fuck the insurance! I was worried about my mother’s life. We needed to be honest with the doctors.  I answered all the doctors honestly. I didn’t care what my aunt thought. After another hour, the doctor told us my mom was brain dead. I don’t know why the doctor used those words, but it was official, my mother had passed.  The family was calm, none of us shouted or cried. We all knew pain so well. It rained the entire day after she died. It felt like God was crying. I saved my tears for my own private moments. My siblings and I went home to Justine.

I was asleep on the couch. I hopped up in the middle of the night and I grabbed my mother’s death certificate off the table. It reads in all caps CAUSE OF DEATH: COCAINE.  Oh my God, did I kill my mother?! All the drugs I had given her a couple months prior came to my mind as I tried to convince myself that she didn’t have my drugs when she died. A bigger question entered my mind: How many people had I killed selling crack? I didn’t know someone could die from smoking crack. I was ignorant. At that very moment, I said: “I’m never selling crack again.” I felt different about everything. I wanted to blame someone. I first blamed myself, then I pointed the finger at America. When I say America I’m really talking about white America. There are those who will question my blame. There are people who will say no one told you to sell crack or steal from Best Buy. It’s those people who have never been without lights or heat or had to survive on donuts. We often look at the end result of something and not the root.

Truth is, my mother grew up very poor. The singer Billy Preston said it best, “Nothing from nothing leaves nothing.” America never gave me an opportunity. What I’m trying to say is that most people are going to follow the environment that surrounds them. That’s all I did. Why does the environment exist? My mind started waking up.The days leading up to the funeral were very difficult. The phone would not stop ringing. Our neighbors collected donations in the neighborhood and gave us a hallmark card full of money. Everyone was coming to the house with food. I started writing out the obituary, but my aunt thought it was a good idea for us all to get together and write it. I was upset because I wanted the chance to show my writing abilities. It was in my heart to write something nice for my mother.

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Countdown to Nashville (Excerpt from the book One To Be A man)

Posted in Uncategorized on August 3, 2017 by drevolution357

I had my interview and glad to say everything went well. Although I was tired as hell so many things went wrong starting last night. First of all Bernice and I got into it not that I care, but I’m thinking I need a ride to the interview(pause 2:56 pm) (5:47 pm) I’m back, anyway my brother came over last night and acted a damn fool. I stayed up half the night (arguing) listening to him and Sonya argue. When I got up this morning I was forced to ride with Sonya. I have to stop. They are arguing right now. I can’t even write in my journal in peace. (Pause 5:59 pm) 6:04 I’m back. Damn, they fuss so much over nothing. Thank God they’re gone, now I can write in peace. Anyway, my first interview was with Keith Baker. I was half sleeping and nervous I found myself tongue-tied while I was talking to him. After that he sent three supervisors in to interview me; suddenly I became more relaxed. My plan is to go back to Chicago and work with my uncle Eric take care of a few things and come back. Journal entry 03/05/1996

I arrived in Chicago today and it feels good but I can see the misery of everybody around, just because I escaped doesn’t mean anything was going to be different around here. 5:57 (pause) this is home but I have to move on. If everything goes well I’ll be out of here at the end of the month. It was a long ride home it was even longer for the people around me. I’m sure my snoring kept everybody awake, shit I didn’t care. My sister and I decided to go out to dinner, yeah I know it’s a first time for everything. This house depresses me I can’t help but to weep thinking about my mother. I can’t believe this shit! I just wish I could see her again I love you, Mom. I’m sorry there was nothing I could do. I wish God would have given you another chance.

Journal entry 03/09/1996

It’s a little after 9 p.m. I wish I was back in Nashville. I had a long, boring day not to mention a headache and starving half to death. I don’t deserve this shit! Don’t get me wrong I know once I get back to Nashville everything is not going to be perfect, but I do believe I won’t have to starve; yesterday my tooth ached all night long, in fact, I can feel it right now. The pain kept me up all night, and I mean all night I can’t wait until these few weeks are up and I can get away from this misery. I talk to Bernice a few times and to my surprise, I actually miss her I want to be with her.

Journal entry 3/11/1996

Well, it’s a few days before Bernice is coming and get me. Today I was offered the job. I accepted, but I can tell right now living with Bernice is not the answer; at least that’s the way I feel right now. I’ve been practicing my typing. I feel different about leaving, but I know it’s something I must do. Focus, focus, focus! School work, a car I want to be able to come back whenever I want to see my daughter, sister, and niece. This is going to be one of the biggest rides of my life. God help me to relax one step at a time I am really thinking about my future one day I’m going to be a great writer. Journal entry 3/26/1996

It was Friday and I had to report to work on Monday. Bernice arrived at my address Friday afternoon; she bought me something to eat and I told her to rest for a minute before getting back on the road. I had a trash bag full of clothes and a fan that was all I owned. I said goodbye to my sister, although I was a little worried about her because she had to move from Justine we lost the Section 8 after the death of my mother. My sister was engaged to her boyfriend. I still didn’t like leaving the burden on her. An hour into the ride my mind started to wander.

8 hours till Nashville I thought about what my life would be like had I gone to Hales Franciscan High School and how my path would have been different. There was a guy named Kevin who lived across the street from me who went to Hale Franciscan he was a corny guy according to street standards. He never got into trouble, but now I realize he was the cool guy, I also realize he was looking at us like we were idiots. I feel I traded in a few so-called cool years for a lifetime of poverty-stricken adulthood. I should have gone to Hales Franciscan High School.

7 hours till Nashville I thought about the Chicago Bulls winning their first championship and how the entire Southside of Chicago celebrated. Everybody was on the streets celebrating, I was leaving my job at Ventures and went and picked up, Adele. Adel decided to moon people while we were driving down the street. The thought made me laughed to myself.

6 hours till Nashville I thought about my father who didn’t come to my mother’s funeral and how much it bothered me. I didn’t understand how he could have three children with her and not attend her funeral; I remembered my mother told me that my father told her that he would never pay child support if she wasn’t fucking him. He definitely kept his word, but also stole dreams in the process. My father would call the house drunk and ask me what I wanted to do when I got older. I was twelve and loved gymnastics. I told him I wanted to do gym bnastics. He said, “That’s for faggots.” I could’ve been an Olympic gold medalist had my father encouraged me.

5 hours till Nashville I thought about Old Folks and everything I learned from him. I thought about us walking to the bus stop every morning and every morning we did our performance of New Edition and we didn’t care who was listening or watching us. We tried our best to do the dance moves. Every morning we stopped being gangbangers and drug dealers and became kids. There used to be a group of us taking this walk, but everybody dropped out school. I feel I brought the best out of Old Folks, this is why he took interest in me, we both stayed in the school.

4 hours till Nashville I thought about Keith, who lived with us and was now in prison. I would never forget the night he broke into my mother’s bedroom and stole her money. I was in the living room on the phone when Keith walked in. My mother kept a padlock on her bedroom door. My mother came in the house drunk and called me to the kitchen and pointed to her lock and asked me what happened, all I could tell her was Keith had come and gone. My mother went into a panic when she went into her room looking for her money and weed that she was selling for my uncle. I didn’t know what to say. My mother started talking about killing herself; she left out the back door got in her car. I watched out the window as she drove top notch speed trying run her car into the back of the house. The only thing that stopped her was the fence that was now mangled. My mom came back in the house and blamed me for what Keith did, I felt like I was back in Ms. Langdon class. My mother told me to get out. It was the middle of winter and my niece was asleep. My mother told me to take her with me, I woke up my niece who was still wearing pampers and tried to dress her, but my mother told me I had to go now, I wrapped my niece in a blanket and walked over to Old Folks house.

Bernice looked at me deep in thought and said, “My ex-boyfriend asked me to marry him.” I didn’t react I said, “what was your response?” “I didn’t answer him,” and then she said, “I’m confused.” That’s not what I wanted to hear, she tells me this halfway to Nashville if she would have told me this a week ago I wouldn’t have come. We sat in silence.

3 hours till Nashville I thought about Renee. I met Renee while I was working at Best Buy. Renee had a smile that I will never forget. We talked and exchanged numbers. I went to her house, she was definitely middle class; we had a great conversation. Renee and her friend Adel and I decided to hang out, but it was one problem we didn’t have plans so we rode around for a while, after discussing it with Adel we decided to go to my house to hang out. From the very moment, Renee entered my house the look of disappointment was in her eyes, I seen it clear and I started feeling embarrassed. I started looking around the house to see what she was seeing, suddenly things looked different, I noticed that we were poor and my home looked poor. Renee never called me again.

2 1/2 hours till Nashville I thought about the time I walked to the bus stop and a guy from the neighborhood was standing near the bus stop singing. I remember a melody that came out of his body that touched my soul. I looked at him, his eyes were closed, he had lost himself and he took me with him. The pain on his face was real, his spirit was crying out. I stood at the bus stop hoping he would never stop. His look and voice didn’t go together. I used him to escape until the sound of a police siren interrupted.

2 hours till Nashville I thought about my Uncle Eric who was married to my mother’s sister, Eric would come over sometimes and smoke weed with my mother, but in the process, he would take time out for me and come into my bedroom and let me play him some house music, he would sit and talk with me and never made me feel like I was bothering him. Eric always took me to Dunkin Donuts. Eric was the closest to a father I ever had or wanted.

1 hour till Nashville I thought about the time when my mother, me and Tupac shared a moment. I was sitting in my mother’s car and “Dear Mama” came on the radio. “Dear Mama,” was a song that absolutely reminded me of my mom and I wanted to tell her many times that the song is how I felt about her, but I didn’t want her to be offended, because of the lyrics that says “even as a crack fiend mama you always was a black queen mama” so I never told her, but when the song played she said, “I like this song,” I was so close to saying this reminds me of you but I didn’t say it. In particular, my mother always made miracles on Thanksgiving. Especially last year when we planned a big Thanksgiving dinner; the entire family was invited. My mom was a great cook, but a day before Thanksgiving our lights were disconnected. My mother was hurt and upset and again it was nothing I could do. Fortunately, a crack head who witness the electric company disconnecting us said he could help, and cut our lights back on for $20. He somehow loosened the meter and just like that, our lights were back on. My entire family came over and we had a good time. They had no idea what we had been through the previous 24 hours. It was a Miracle.

I was deep in thought about my mother, when I looked up I saw a sign that said, “Welcome to Tennessee,” and on cue Bone Thugs N Harmony “Cross Roads” came on the radio. Bernice turned the volume up. I was totally emotional; I turned my face toward the glass hiding my eyes that was now filled with tears.

Book cover

” I Forgive Everybody”

Posted in Uncategorized on October 1, 2014 by drevolution357

The evolution of man is so essential to the world. Unfortunately, vanity has a way of stopping a man in his path of free thinking and spiritual understanding. For years growing up with my brother and sister I always felt different. When I was younger they always shared friends and seemed to have an inside joke that I was never included in. Growing up like this I learned to establish my own identity and all these years later when I look at my brother and sister I am glad of the man I’ve become. It has taken years for me to understand that I was special.

There is a battle between “Evolution and Illusion”. I think it’s safe to say that most people are losing this battle to illusion hence the vanity of ourselves. In recent conversations with my sister I realize how annoyed I am speaking with her. I realize how disconnected she is from God (although she claims to be a Christian). When I say disconnected I mean spiritually lacking understanding that all things are connected. Somehow in my sister’s mind she is this grand corporate working professional, but that’s not the case, but I’ll get back to that in a second. The one thing about life is that we can spend the entire time trying to be something we’re not or chasing an idea of who we think we are.

“I forgive everybody.” That’s what my sister said in a telephone conversation. I almost laughed. Relatives are calling me because you owe them money, you lost your man, your best friend of twenty plus years doesn’t deal with you and your storage was seized (losing all of my mother’s items). Six months ago you came to Nashville broke from a homeless shelter with nothing, but you forgive everybody? Where is the evolution in that? Have you asked for forgiveness? Maybe you should start there. I’ve learned when we as human beings learn to be grateful even in our struggle that opens the door for true evolution.

Evolution is seeing things for what they are and not what you want them to be. We spend a vast majority of our life chasing a dream or a character that is not meant for us. Then we find ourselves not liking the ones who have found success in their purpose. STOP THE PRESSES! IT’S “THEIR PURPOSE” NOT YOURS. Maybe my sister should stop searching and trying to live an idea of who she thinks she is and start living life with a purpose that doesn’t involve entitlement.

Purpose has nothing to do with titles or how much money you make. This is a mistake that we make as human beings. We judge ourselves based on how we look standing next to someone else, but most of the time the person we’re standing next to has mastered the art of illusion. Therefore we become envious or jealous because of what we think someone else has. The truth is I realize I don’t know my sister because she doesn’t know who she is and she tries so hard to prove she is something that she is obviously not. When my sister moved here 6 months ago I had not heard from her in over a year, but she comes here with nothing and my ego wanted to laugh and say “That’s what you get.” I am not that man that would do that so instead I went to the store and bought her some items that she needed. I offered her my other car for job interviews and gave her money when she asked. All the while I had a bitter taste in my mouth because I knew my sister didn’t understand how and why she was in this situation to begin with.

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I use my sister as a perfect example of an evolution reject. It’s never too late to evolve. Take harsh lessons and see the good in them. Grow from them. Stop blaming everyone else for your issues. Stop being so defensive. Stop making excuses. For once take a moment and say “I can do better. I’m the reason things didn’t work out.” I truly believe the universe waits for us to recognize these moments and the more of these moments that are recognized the more doors open for you. The more you learn who you are and the closer you move toward your purpose.

The Point↓
The Universe is constantly trying to guide you toward your purpose and evolution. I always say the Universe is like a GPS. It will give you direction but if you continue to go down the wrong road the Universe will redirect you. But if you don’t listen the GPS will go silent and you’ll find yourself at a dead end.

Written by D-Revolution


Posted in Uncategorized on October 3, 2013 by drevolution357

Sometimes you have to make wrong choices for the right decisions.


For many years I have written articles about my life, my imperfections and my struggle being a man. I’ve strayed away from writing current things in my life because I am a very private person. This article doesn’t express the only situation in my life but it has been a struggle for the last 14 years and I have to document this because it’s my only lifesaver at this point.

I never had much family. Most of the things I know I taught myself or observed in others. My mom grew up in the streets of Chicago. She experienced everything from hunger to prostitution to drug addiction. My mom would often cry about her life when she was upset with me and my siblings. I learned a lot from her and it was not until I moved to Tennessee that I realized that I was living my life wrong. In Chicago I was just another drug-dealing gangbanger in the streets. At the age of 24 I had already experienced a life full of disappointments. I had been through so much by the time I discovered poetry. But it was poetry had helped me evolve. One day a thought came to my head “ONE CHANCE TO BE A MAN” I was like “Damn!” I only get one chance at this. So I sat out to be the best man I could be except I was still dealing with many side effects of not having my father in my life. What many of you would call common sense I didn’t have. Not long after moving here I made two babies with a woman that I liked, but didn’t care much for. I never loved her, but she was a great listener. In fact, she turned me on to poetry.

Every day my soul purpose has been to evolve as a man. I began to find my purpose through poetry, performing and giving people an insight into what my life was like growing up without my father, drug-dealing or going to jail. My words were flowing from the Universe to the people. I started to realize my pain was necessary to be the writer and poet I am, but unfortunately there has been a battle I’ve dealt with for years; the mother of my children.

From the day I chose not to be with her, she has done everything to tear me down mentally and emotionally and she has succeeded very well over the years. Her biggest weapon has been being passive aggressive. She (Elisha) has perfected the passive aggressive nature that draws you in and leaves your guts hanging out. I must emphasize that this is not an attack on Elisha, but this is my only weapon to ensure my daughters know why I’m not around. It’s been 14 years of hard labor and my health can’t take any more.

My daughter called me a few days ago to inform me she was pregnant. WHOOOOOOAAAAA! Everything that I fought for, all the poetry I’ve written, all the people who have thanked me for my inspiration; it all came down to me having a pregnant, teenage daughter. I have begged Elisha over the years to work together, let’s co-parent and all I got in return was silence. I HAVE NO INTEREST IN BEING A BABY DADDY. I WANT TO BE A FATHER BECAUSE I NEVER HAD ONE AND BECAUSE I LOVE MY DAUGHTERS!

1. I want to know when school starts.
2. I want to see report cards
3. I want to know about sleepovers and with who
4. Me: “Elisha, can you make sure that they’re writing in their diaries when they get home?”
5. Me: “Elisha, can you make sure the girls call me everyday when they get out of school?”
6. Racheal (my youngest): “Daddy, my mother told me that you’re not my real father.”
7. Elisha: “Dee, don’t get another a woman pregnant.”
8. Me: “Elisha, please return my call. Why won’t you call me back!”
9. Unique (my 14 year old): “Daddy, my mom yells at me every time I ask her if I can call you.”
10. Rachael and Unique: “Daddy I wanted to tell you, but my mom asked me not to.”
11. Elisha: “Dee, I know when you have company. I can see her car parked in front of your house from the interstate.”
12. Elisha: “Dee, you cannot take them to Chicago.”
13. Elisha: “My friend saw you and Catrice (my friend) in the mall. Why would you date someone so fat?”
14. Elisha, Spring Break 2013: “You can’t get the girls because you yelled at Unique forgetting kicked off the basketball team.”
15. Text message from Dr. Holt 2013: “Watch PBS, they’re showing a documentary on Fatherless Children.”

One year ago I had a dream. In the dream my daughter, Unique, (the oldest of the two) was standing by the sink eating rat poison. I called Elisha the next day and asked her where Unique was. She told me she was at her grandmother’s house. Later that day Unique called me crying. She said she needed to talk with me. I rushed over to her grandmother’s and Unique would never say why she was crying. That was the day she lost her virginity and she didn’t feel good about it. It happened at her grandmother’s house. Several months later when it was confirmed that that’s what happened, I was told to keep it a secret from Dr.Holt (grandmother). I did, but it tore me apart because I was now another person keeping a secret. I understand now why I did it; the FEAR of Dr. Holt or someone else accusing me of something so I kept my mouth shut. I realize that I have no power. I have no family to help me fight. I have no one to speak up for me. My mom is gone. My dad is gone. The rest of my family is in Chicago so it’s easy to look like a bad guy when you have no one there. Think about it people, with my mother dead, who is there to say “I want to see my grandkids.”? Who is around me to make a big fuss about my daughters? I have no one to complain to. Elisha has no one to answer to, but me. She has her entire family to convince and no one ever ever asks me anything. All I get are phone calls accusing me of not doing my job so it looks like I’m not around to everyone. In fact if you pull phone records or do your own research you would see the truth.

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All I have are witnesses that can attest to all of my days of depression and what I’ve gone through with my kids; two in particular, Catrice and Michelle. These individuals, who also love my daughters, have dealt with all the emotions with me over the years. They have bought and paid for many things for my daughters and if I died today they would be able to explain to my daughters what a good father I was never allowed to be.

I began to learn if I didn’t feed Elisha emotionally there was going to be a problem with me seeing my kids or that she was going to do something stupid. So I learned how to have small talk with her, make her laugh and then I would say, “Let me speak to Rachael and Unique.” Another thing I noticed was that the only time things ran smoothly is when she had a man. EVERYTIME HER MAN BROKE UP WITH HER I WOULD KNOW BECAUSE SHE WOULD REALLY START TRIPPIN WITH ME. I always knew when her relationships ended because that meant I was about to be threatened to be taken back to court for more child support or I wasn’t going to hear from kids. But the real twisted shit about this was that she had two kids before I met her and their fathers are nowhere around. Her oldest son’s father lives in Memphis and has very little to do with his son and didn’t pay child support for many years. Her youngest son never had a chance to meet his father ever. I am a man in the same city who pays child support and has been mistreated, treated like a man who is avoiding his kids and running from child support. I am willing to show any records of my child support to back up all my claims. I’m willing to post all the photos I have of my daughters having a good time when we’ve been allowed. I’m willing to get phone records to show all my calls (I’ve had the same phone number since my daughter was two years old).

Secrets, lies and fornication. I can no longer be a part of it. I’ve worn out my silence. I’ve held onto it for so long. I speak loud in poetry and performing, but I suck at current affairs. I told Elisha on so many occasions that one day her daughters would hate her for what she was doing. I’ve begged and begged for us to actively work together, but I got tired of having to feed her emotions and when I don’t feed her the drama starts. I predicted this pregnancy and that is the only reason why I didn’t have a heart attack when my daughter called me. Even then Elisha was not woman enough to face me. She couldn’t call me herself as a parent. Sorry America I’m not going to save face. I couldn’t be a father before the pregnancy I don’t want to be a father now. I want no part of this. I’ve experienced a lot of pain in my life. I am a wise man and I did the best I could to make sure my daughters didn’t make the same mistakes. I have a 21 year old daughter, from a previous relationship, who heard my wisdom and has never been pregnant. So why is my 14 year old pregnant?

My pen will be my new weapon. At this point I am a baby’s daddy since I am unable to be father. I will be that no good, black, deadbeat nigga that I’ve been accused of being for so many years. I’m done!

Me and the girls

Why You Don’t Have a Man

Posted in Uncategorized on September 6, 2012 by drevolution357

STOP! You’re not as special as you think you are. You are special because you’re an individual. But if you find yourself alone and can’t figure out why you can’t get a man, or why it appears all men are full of shit; YOU are the reason. Check your pulse and the rhythm of your life. Words are said and words are not said because you’re holding on to an idea of how things should go. Ha! Your ideas are meaningless to men. In fact, most men hate ideas of preconceived notions: “This is how this goes. This is what I expect” conversations from women. The worse thing a woman can do is tell a man over 35 what she expects because by the time a man reaches that age he’s learned a few things about relationships and fully understands that they just don’t work out the way you want. To the passive aggressive one that doesn’t say anything-no communication, just goes along with the plan, no self-identity, no individuality, no emotions, just passive aggressive, spending most of your time pretending.Oh no! No! No! You’ll never keep a man. Women continue to live in the fantasy world of an idea instead of living in a reality of the male species.

Common mistakes:

Shooting down ideas: Most women with a lack of experience with men lose them before they have a chance to get to know them because of this simple principle. We men say a lot of things. Some things we mean and some are simply for a moment of wooing. If I say to you “Baby you’ve been working hard, I would like to give you a bath.” and your response is “I don’t like baths.” this totally turns a man off. For us, it’s not the actual physical act it’s the idea. He simply wants you to know he has your back and when you don’t catch that it can really turn him off. Your answer could be “Awe, baby that’s sweet. I don’t like baths, but you can give me a shower.” His job is done; he got what he needed and so did you.

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Fantasy is your enemy. There are only so many tall dark skin bald men out there and they’re all taken.

Open up: If you’re dating someone, but not sure where it’s going don’t be afraid to let him see your true feelings. We are suckers for that. Believe it or not men seeing you cry or expressing your true feelings makes us feel more open. We want to wipe away your tears. It also helps us to realize that we really got a woman who cares about us. We are truly suckers for emotions.

Sex: Get your sex game up. Personally I’m a freak (I like saying that) but I run into many women who never admit or lack the experience of what a man needs sexually. Ladies, please understand having a pussy is not good enough. When a man gets to a certain age he can get sex anytime. What makes your pussy better than the next woman? Imagination-that’s what men look for. Spark his interest by doing things he doesn’t expect. Give him head while watching a movie or better yet masturbate on the couch why he’s watching the game. We don’t like shy pussy.You must have an outgoing pussy. Give your pussy a name like Meme or something. He would begin addressing Meme like a person. Learn your sexuality. There’s nothing worse than insecure pussy.

Something to look forward to: You don’t have to sleep with a man on a first date. Most of the time we’re happy knowing that you want us. All you need to do is give us a little something to go on for the next couple days. Let’s say I drop you off at home and you invite me in. Before you know it we’re on the couch kissing. I make a move to get you out of your clothes, but you don’t want to have sex. Believe it or not that’s okay, but if you rub me the right way or allow me to see a nipple or two that’s all I need. I will be sure to come back next week. Lol! No joke.

The Point↓
Find your Rhythm. You’re not as special as YOU think you are. Stop living with an idea of who think you are and live with the reality that you’re single and you can’t get a man. Admit it and then ask yourself why.

By the way kick yourself in the ass for letting a good man go because he didn’t fit your ideas and so called expectations and now he’s with someone else.

D-Revolution Spoken Word Artist

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