Carol City Dreamer

Confession of A Carol City Dreamer

I want to be in zip code 33056 on THAT NIGHT!

And it don't matter if it's the City of Opa Locka incorporated in 1926 or The City Of Miami Gardens incorporated in 2003, A NEED to be there.

A’s BLESSED to Live in both, still BLESSED to have FAMLEE in both and consider both, MA HOME.

When A first became eligible to vote, my polling station was at North Dade Elementary School, just a few blocks from Ma house. Upon approach what drew me to the polls was not the original intent that Ma Young Ass had left the house with. It was the site of A PURRTY MENZ. Am talking VINTAGE PURRTY. Like only Georgia can make ‘em.

If this Elder was A Cah, He would be one of those Big Body 1950s Chevys parked on Ocean Drive, the only street in South Beach, in front of one of the last remaining Hotels built during the heyday of The Magic City.

(get a copy of Tony Roma with Frank Sinatra starring if you wanna see what South Beach was and used to look like. Then watch 2live crew’s Do-Wa-Diddy-Diddy-Dumb-Diddy-Do video and you can see the crane behind Uncle Luke DAH MAN!’s head tearing down The Art Deco Hotel next to the one he is seated in front of while filming. All them other buildings that get they names dropped by male and female celebutantes, ain’t got no choice wid they new asses but to look as Beautiful as they do. For the entire Southern Portion of The City of Miami Beach is now A Historical preservation site. But anybody, and A do mean me, can stay in one them fucks there. The BIG BODY 1950 CHEVY markers however, is to let all pretenders know, what An Ashanti King said, ‘money don’t make you REGAL.’ So You could answer with your bank balance whenever someone asks your name, all you want, that ain’t gone get you one minute’s stay in An Authentic, Original Art Deco Hotel on Ocean Drive.)

But back to me, checking ma Swatch® watch and seeing its only the middle of the day, the polls gone be open ‘til evening, lemme set awhile and get cozy with SugarPlum. (A call e’ry man, SugarPlum; that way A ‘ont ne’er say the wrong name at the wrong time)

So A lauched into Ma not-ready-for-daycare MACK and let the honey drip out Ma Lips as A said, Good Day Fine Sir and how is You d doing? (excuse me, while A go count a blessing)

POTnah hit me wid, ‘Young Lady, is only right A warn yah, A bin all ‘round Da Dirty. So if You really wanna learn how tah flirt wid A Ole man, A could teach ‘cha.

A got comfortable.

The Essence of Our Elders is The Wisdom of Their Ages that They carry with Them from Their Living which They most generously bequeath unto us, who would but self-respectfully, set down, shut up and listen. Each is A Walking Library Of Congress who operates off a business paradigm called ‘FUCK-A-WILL,’ gifting You Their Wealth while They are still above ground. I do not recall when I made the executive decision to saying thank you to them, for all of them have told me, that there ain’t necessary, why You think God put me here?

So in between Ma MACKOLOGY 101 lesson, VINTAGE DUNK, told me ‘bout his chi’ren. For He only seventy sum’mn and they won’t stop talking ‘bout He need to retire. How he ain;t ne’er took no days off since He first started sharecropping when he could crawl. And as if it wasn’t clear to them, that retirement is for OLD PEOPLE, they gone move Him from Georgia to Dade County.

Nah He Gullah, but since moving to Dade, he done gone Geechie wid it. And happier than all get out, ‘cause he see even da little chi’rens in the street with they football helmets grinding as they sell candy to buy uniforms. So He still Living His Life like regular. And he ‘ont know what them Chi’ren a His talking ‘bout, ‘cause he ain’t ne’er worked on election day since His People got Him, His Full Rights as An American when They walked the longest country mile on earth, from Salem to Montgomery and got Him The Right To VOTE!

So if is even for dog-catcher, he take da day off, come lineup ‘fore da polls open, vote early, then spend the rest of the day greeting all The Other Americans enjoying being American.

Where We was right then, in the place so many of Us shall always refer to by it’s Cute Pet Name, Carol City, was OFFICIALLY in ACCORDANCE with UNITED STATES LAW a locale designated “UNINCORPORATED NORTH DADE COUNTY.”

And even though We had a post office in Carol City on 37th Ave, depending on which employee from the private corporation United States Postal Service brought the mail to your house, if they left you two notices warning you to put OPA LOCKA and not CAROL CITY as your address, if you got a letter so labeled again, they would leave a note in your mailbox telling you, you gotta go all the way down to Ali Baba in Opa Locka to collect your mail from the general delivery window at that post office.

Also, the allotment of education funding dictated locale designated like ours required only 1 public high school per 100,000 residents.

But that day, none of that, or the City of Miami false-god-complex-self-infected over-lords with their jackboots on the necks of most then Dade (Now Miami-Dade) County residents, choosing to squander Americans’ taxpayer transportation funds by building a Metrorail that would take them from their homes near the Dadeland Mall straight to their racetrack in Hialeah, mattered.

Even dough, He had told me that He was gone be there ‘til da poles closed, A still made Him pinky swear that He’d be right there when A came back out, when he said Young Lady, go VOTE. (I am that trifling. A mean here is An Elder, He don’t owe me no money, so he ain’t got no reason to lie to me, but Am making Him put His “X” by bloody-thumb-print on a notarized form.

The main polling station is now The North Dade Regional Library located on 183rd St just off 27th Ave NW. And day before yesterday, Ma Baby Sister, Janelle, who had gone to the flea market, right ‘round there to get some gear for her Husband and Sons called Me on her cell phone to tell me the line had done come out the library, headed west on 183rd street (MIAMI GARDENS DRIVE) and then big swang north going pass the Fire Station and brand new Police Headquarters heading for the Wall market across from Dolphin Stadium. And A’s like, dayum, that shit all the way up on 199.

A reside in a locale named Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. County. And on the left side of the address of county documents like the envelope I got my absentee ballot in is a portrait of Lady Coretta’s SugarPlum.

And like that joyous day when VINTAGE DUNK bequeathed unto me, The Wisdom of His Mack Ages, I am as first registered an independent voter. This is the first election that I have ever voted for a Democran/Republicrat ticket.

Lady Coretta and He SugarPlum are two of them Folks there who walked that long-ass country mile for me and VINTAGE DUNK. So A got a picture of Ma envelope positioned on my ballot showing my first vote for candidates from the ruling political party.

And here is where, the trifling in me done gone exponential. Seattle ain’t done nuttin but be FAMLEE since A got here. Yet after ten years, A still function on Dade County time. Maybe it’s ‘cause of The Cocoon of Wealth A was born and raised in by Elders like VINTAGE DUNK in The Caribbean and then Dade County during ma formative years added to Ma Artiste’ Soul and relish being pampered Cuteness, why I stubbornly, unconsciously refuse to acclimate Ma Self to another time zone.

So today, 10/31/2008 2:30:24 PM, finds me in the middle of inconsolable melancholy ‘cause A cannot afford a ticket to be in The City of Miami Gardens on November 4th, 2008, to set across from The Library and watch Americans be Beautiful.

On the real, ma self invited troubles spring from Ma spoiled ass acting as if ain’t none a that thurr going on here in Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. County.


Liquor On Layaway

Walking down the
Street looking so
Walking down the
Street looking so


Just you walking
Just you looking


A hint of your smile
Just for a brief while
Makes me A Beautiful Chile
‘cause you are that

Elders Twinkle
for your walking and looking
Is like Gold dust sprinkles
You that

Even mutts know
not just a bone if They follow
They’ll also
have a home


The Grind ceases being A Burden Tired
When You Holla
Go ‘head wid ‘cha hustle,
Dis da last 40 inches of Yo Weary Miles


Walking down the
Street looking so
Walking down the
Street looking so


(dis flow out Ma Drunk Soul after one shot a SAMPLE ANT) 10/29/2008 1:00:35 PM©cindyadriennequashie (as A write A got The SWEETest hangover)


so a opened ma mailbox and wondered who da fuck that email address belong tah and a almost clicked spam. but me bad eye that's good caught the subject line and it looked like a response to sum'mn a mighta wrote somebody, the way Brother was spelled..

then a couldn't get it to download from yahoo, kept jamming after 90 sum'mn percent complete. didn't pay no attention then but ma totem pole was still on ma pinky love rang, at the time it dawned on me, marked it unread then download ma unread emails to ma phone then forward it to ma gmail and do dah same. on the pc the gmail d/l didn't work neither. this lead me to spend most the day fiddling with ma laptop. getting drivers, clean the registry and shit like that.

It wouldn't play in windows and that itunes interface thingy wouldn't load it. so a went hunting for a freeware player, but that one in testing only played the first 2 or 3 secs of the songs a tried.

meanwhile real life going on. and two things a cant deal with personally get to fucking with me, 'cause ma soul just is the kinda where e'rythang pass thru, and sometimes its painful like a mo'phhhhh-kah.

but then Alex with his i am 1 and run this clan self come tell me bye on the phone when am talking to ma sister, and that joy went thru ma soul to.

A'd lost one ma mj rangs, the pinky one the other day. after a told ma sister, am so waiting to come home to dade county right nah and we hung up, a felt this sharp tuck in ma right little toe, and went a look down it was ma mj rang, and that's when a noticed ma totem pole was missing.

it be falling off a love for it wasn't make to hang on the rang. but a took it off the leather necklace a got it on up in bc and opened the brass circle thingy and put it through the o in love.

figured a'd just set and wait 'til it showed up like ma mj rang, but at the same time, a was worried it could fell in the garbage can. so after a non resolution to a part of the first part of real time that was today, a got up and walked around ma apartment and found it on the flow of BROKE PIMP $TYLE$™ STUDIO (ma bathroom).

when a reattached it, it dawned on me again to try with the download one mo' time from gmail. A'd also deleted the player a'd downloaded and another a found in ma control panel list. then when a d'led it, a went to windows to open it, and it gave me some warning message about it format, but a choice to play anyway and a ran with that thurr, and the music hit me out ma laptop speakers.

what a day.

a can hear the instruments talking, so that's what a replied to the composer, what a heard them say. but a 'ont think that's what was called for. Personally, that don't faze me, but Ma SOul is different, specially when it come to art.

so amma just have to live
how the beat hit me like

the beat hit me like...

A Composer sent me a wonderfully orchestrated piece, to listen to and see what i could do with it. The joy of the honor is so enrapturing to Ma Soul that so far A've only been able to download it on my cellphone. I am Blessed, Eternally Honored and privileged by this affirmation by an another Artiste who can feel my passion.
but enough a dat thurr,

the beat nit me like
shopping for seashells at Haulover like
a wink across the room from one you clocking like
getting all wishes granting in a field of clovers like
dunk top dropped lower than da bass boom got ma head bopping like
the beat that hit me like
a wanna go all night 'til morning like
come dawning and meet me still flowing like
the creek down the road where we fish like
dem bwois on da ave be delicious dishes like
how a got hit by the beat like
supper and meringue with yah baby all night like
even before we get to swinging, am cheesing like
it's the first date, but we done put in silver as one like
them grannybabies we got that bring us giggly delights like
the pleasure in the pain when you birth a child like
the sweet tears when you know your Homie playing bones with Gabriel like
me and ma brother suck seed or salt but ain't ne'er dropped each other like
ice cream money from ELDERS who pinch your cheeks 'cause they so plumb like
the beat hitting me
awakening places deep within
that i long thought lost

10.28.08 07:29PM, PDT©cindyadriennequashie

i just met twitter

pipe in mouth, pen in hand, making love, to this write thing man