A dedication to my namesake.
I think of you as a Ghetto God.
A rough and tumbled jewel on the streets of New York.
I think you belong to the night
To the hood where the strays are kings.
Your life was as mysterious and obscure as the music i bought from you.
Your philosophies were as edgy and tough as that look on your face, facing this world with everything you've got.
There was always something crucial, something direct in your existence.
There was always something lawless about the way you ruled your life
and wherever you are now, I know you are calling the shots because that was all you ever had in life.
Your own stance, your own stand, your own space in an orphaned world.
Where the lonely are, asleep in back alleys, I feel that you are there as their prince,
watching them, protecting them, a comforter to the utterly abandoned.