Learning How to Shoot
Labor Day is family reunion to me
My blood runs thick with Trinidad, T&T
So when my Daddy tells me to meet him on a late August Day in Brooklyn
I know who I'll see
Him, he pardnas and dem
This time was no different
He introduced me to a man and his son
The son eyeballed me like I was a junie mango
As he said "Wow, Mr Gabriel. Your daughter is beautiful."
My father paused to see my reaction
His father half-laughed and made an interjection
Between the failed pick-up line & the dead air
He said, "Son,
You better watch what you say to Clyde's daughta.
The man has a gun."
He said it just for fun but on the real
Every Mas Camp knows for a fact my dad has one.
The son's mouth was emptier then when a party was over
As my dad put his un-ironed hands on his shoulder
"Young man, to tell you the truth,
You don't have to worry about me
Cause I taught my daughter how to shoot."...
This poem goes out to the Daddies girls
Who's father taught em to take shots of Grey Goose
Long before the legal limit
So you'd know not to
Go back to
A glass you left and walked back to
Who showed up at school when that lil boy hit you
And none of the lil boys bothered you ever again
This is for the Daddies girls
Who know the statistics
But who's experience was different
Who's father taught you to walk
On the inside of the street cause "you aren't for sale"
Daddy's girls who moms beat their tail
When they misbehaved
But the true moment of fear came
When "I'ma tell your father" was said
Daddies girls who fed
A grown man imaginary cookies on a Rainbow Brite tea set
Who gambled in card games with them
Peppermints to make bets.
See, my mommy taught me to be nurturing
How to love everyone else outside myself
But my dad taught me not think it vain to give myself compliments
How to balance the emotional me with thinking logically
This goes out to all the girls
Who still call their daddies at half past 3
When their car won't start after they've left the party
This is for the Daddies girls
Who've gone to school with their hair in a lopsided ponytail
Cause clips and bows only made him more confused
Daddies girls taught to flash firecracker laughter to light up a room
Taught how to create the perfect blend of fear and admiration
Taught how to shoot vodka without the chaser
Dads who taught that the man should be the one to chase ya
Who raised their daughters like sheltered sons
Made them appreciate old westerns and the NBA
Who told em to go for their MBA even thought they only made it past the 12th grade
This poem goes out to the Daddies girls
Who's dad taught em to take shots with sarcasm
Told em they inherited handguns for eyes
Scalpels for smiles
Could form a masterpiece with a kiss
Or let those same lips be a man's demise
Who told them it's okay to cry
But only the first time cause it shouldn't happen again
Kryptonite to new boyfriends
Didn't scare them all away
Only the ones who's casual attire and career goals didn't make sense
This is for the Daddies girls
Who were taught how to shoot free-throws
Who are trained parallel-parking pros
Can quote his unconventional wisdom like
“You know, 85% of people in this world are stupid...Look, look, there another one goes.”
or “Give it your best and there’s no limit to where you can go.”
This is for the Daddies girls
Who know that a woman scorned can make a bitter mother
Mothers who think their failed relationship
Should end the one dads have with their kids
Wishing they could suck out his DNA
Like it was poison and erase any trace of lineage in their kid's face
This is for Daddy's girls
Who's father may not have stayed
Maybe even played the heck out of their Mom
But while he didn't give her the love and respect she was due
He gave it to you
At the end of the day
He showed you what a man should and shouldn't do
Daddies girls who know that perfection
Isn't part of the human equation
That it isn't about getting all the answers right
And even if he messed up more than a few times
You appreciate that he took the time before he closed his eyes
To try.
To my daddy/ It seems the older I get the more I think we look like/ although I was born high yellow/ and you're more like quarter to midnight./ Skin rough like Chaguaramas beach./ Voice vibrates like steel pan melodies./ Sandpaper skin singing within the crevices of the present me./ I swear I'll never grow too old for nicknames and I'll still open the car door for you from the inside./ I never believed in your infallibility./ Maybe that's why/ you're still untarnished in my eyes./ I love you for all you've taught me./ You taught me to shoot but on most occasions,/ to put away my gun/ Taught me how to wine,/ how to get my way without wining,/ how to be wined and dined./ The first man to tell me I was beautiful and to look at me in awe./ All these dudes get their lines from you,/ So it takes more than speeches of silk spilling from slick jaws to get me to pause./ You set the bar high for anyone desiring to take your place as the man in my life./ And whoever it is that I deem worthy to bring/ will be a reflection of you,/ in honor of you./ He'll be my prince charming/ but you'll still be my King/ I'm a daddy's girl,/ gunning down stories of all black men being absent or in jail./ Firing at tales of failed fathers and dead-beat males/Your love for me/ my love for you is living proof/ That there are still a few strong women out there/ who's dad's aim in life was to teach their daughters how to shoot.
Monday, January 7, 2013 at 8:09PM
(Taken from 
Briana, Me, and Kamaala (my dope background singers) before the show.
The Hypnotic Brass Band rockin' it!
