By Ronald Chatman AKA Madd Ronald (ronr20s@yahoo.com ) for
Streetgangs.com Magazine
I am immortal from the pen to the paper transferring
my thoughts from mind to matter. Am I really immortal
or am I just fooling myself? Will I be remembered like
Malcolm X, Martin Luther King or Ghandi? What
makes history a fact, is that someone took the time to
write it. Will I be a character remembered in time?
Will there even be a human race in 1,000 years? The
only reason that we cannot start all over again in
life is because our backgrounds are the root of life.
In 1,000 years whose hands will have shaped time? If
civilization does exist in 1,000 years will there be
Bloods and Crips?
From the corner of Normandie Avenue
and Adams Boulevard, my philosophical point of view
stands bullet riddled and blood stained. Scanning Loren Miller Park with my eyes, my
free will is clouded by marijuana smoke from the blunt
that a Blood just passed. From 27th Street to the
Avenues I philosophize with the transients and the
addicted. The most educated among us sometimes stand
among the derelicts of society (those that have been
ousted by society). Curbside University is now
opened. Discussions range from "The Philosophy of Life"
to the "Philosophy of How to Survive a Drive-by
shooting." What you are reading becomes so prolific
that, today you are reading from the pages of my life,
next month you could be reading from the pages of my
obituary. Sometimes it's crazy to think of being
allotted such a fucked up slot in the social order of
life. I've never really left Los Angeles (unless I was
shackled down on a state prison bus with an armed
gunman riding in the back cage). It is as if I am
still in prison, like L.A. has this big ass electrical
prison fence around it. I have not even done very much
and the intellect that I am capturing your imagination
with comes from all of the books that I have read.
You must understand that I am stuck in life. You can lock
up the body but never the mind. My fate will be to die
in the streets of Los Angeles. At 35 years old I will
never find a way out; I am under the BLOOD FOR LIFE
plan anyway (my fate is sealed). The only choice left
for me is, who do I want to die as? Do I want to be
sacrificed to the L.A. gang crisis? or do I want to
die as a martyr to the peace movement? After my death,
will I be considered a prophet? will I be considered a
philosopher? Will I even be considered? Out of sight
is out of mind. At night I toss and turn fighting for
the few hours of sleep that I am allowed. I have
nightmares of drive-by shootings and execution style
murders. I am always taken away from the scene in the
back of a paramedic ambulance hooked up to I.V.s and
life support. I awaken drenched in sweat and out of
breath. I am choking on my own spit and my heart is
beating overtime. Suddenly I realize the only reason
that I have just been allowed to live is because I
have just been allowed to die.
This is an actual illness comparable to the post Vietnam syndrome that
veterans suffer from. Does God grant me these
flashbacks as a reminder of all of the pain that I
have caused? Why does God allow us to slaughter one
another as if the Los Angeles gang crisis was written
into Armagedon or the Jihad. Only God will determine
when it will be time for me to be "carried and
buried," so I must prepare to die with the pride that
the Bloods had in Vietnam (during the 1960's).
Religion of the streets (gangbangin') is in full
effect. The streets "B" my church and my red flag "B"
my cross. We believe in this enough to die for but do
we believe in this enough to live for it? Should I be
murdered by an enemy's bullet, let genocide die with
me. While standing on 27th Street, if I am the victim
of a barrage of machine gun fire let ignorance die
with me. If I am shot in the head while standing on
Adams Boulevard let prejudice die with me. So that the
future (our children) can start all over again. Some
of us will have to sacrifice our own lives to save the
lives of our children, the future is in there hands.
Some of us will have to be martyrs for the liberation
of our children's futures. Some of us will have to give
up all that we love, so that those that we love, can
live. For the sake of my two daughters (Ronisha and
Tierra) and my one son (Ronald#2), I will be the first
sacrifice. Who's next to step up to the firing squad
for the sake of humanity? This will not be another
Machiavellian smoke screen. I will not be resurrected
in seven days. My death is final and to the utmost,
definite, but now my life will be infinite and I won't
be coming back. In one week, when my body is buried
and all of my friends and family have come to pay there
last respects. All of the Rollin'20's Bloods will be
prepared to seek revenge for the death of me. There
will be a sea of soldiers dressed in red, as they pass
my coffin to view my body, there will be two fingered
salutes with acknowledgements of a pinky and a thumb
from those saluted. When I am lowered in to the ground
and covered with dirt, let the hatred of the world be
buried with me. I don't know about Dr. King's dream but
I know that I am living a nightmare.
Will the world
know about the more than 500 people that were murdered
in the streets of Los Angeles in 2002? In 1,000 years,
will the world remember all of the innocent people
that were victims of gang violence? May the conflict
end with my death. History will reveal that Madd Ronald was the last
victim of gang violence. Remember me the
way that you would remember a Palestinian suicide
bomber seeking liberation from the conditions of
oppression so that his children may have a
chance in the future. These words may sound like the
lyrics of a rap song, but they are not and I am no
rapper but an urban survivalist and these are my
lyrics of life. The cloth that holds my family
together is red and it is stained with the blood of my
dead homies.
The tattoo of Rollin' 20's that is blocked
up on my leg may be the only proof to a young
archeologist in 1,000 years that the Rollin' Twenties
Neighborhood Bloods ever existed, while he studies the
ruins of a lost city called Los Angeles. Will the
translation of the "2" on my left back arm and the "0"
on my right back arm, be kept in a museum and studied
like hieroglyphics, when they realize that nations of
black and brown once existed in this now desolate
graffitti filled wasteland? The only thing to remain will be the knowledge, the nowledge of self destruction, knowledge of genocide,
and the study of xenophobia.
Willie Lynch will be dead
and we will no longer be slaves.
The same people that
taught us virtue are the same ones that enslaved us. In
this day and age, slavery exists in the Sudan the same as
it did in the deep South. In the Ivory Coast, there has
been a civil war for the past 4 months. An American
protester was killed by an Israeli bulldozer a few
weeks ago. She was on a peace mission for
humanity, trying to stop a Palestinian home from being
torn down. I don't know if it is worse here in the
hood where the war has been going on for the past 3
decades, or over in Iraq.
I ain't down with Bush, I ain't fightin' for
Bush, and I ain't dyin' for Bush. Like I may have
expressed before "Fuck the War," We must support our
family members who are involved in the military. I
believe that there should be some Bush's and Cheney's
right out there dying on the front line like the true
Americans that they are. My 12 year old son (Ronald#2)
might be drafted when he turns 18. For him it's either
the Prison Industrial Complex or the Military
Industrial Complex, all because Saddam Hussein did not
submit the right weapons report 6 years earlier. North
Korea talks like they got the bomb and they don't give
a fuck who knows. They fired a missile into the
Sea of Japan a few weeks ago. They claim they have a
nuclear missile that can reach Los Angeles. I think
that if we are going to war with anybody to disarm weapons of mass destruction it needs to be North Korea. How can George
W. Bush think about disarming Iraq when he can't even
disarm the gang members in the hood. If we're lucky
North Korea will push the button and civilization
along with prejudice, hatred, genocide, and ignorance
will all die at the end of this sentence.
20 minutes
BLOODS O/G/B MADD RONALD#1 WESTSIDE ROLLIN' 20'S
NEIGHBORHOOD BLOODS
A Moment of Philosophy:
Knowledge and intellect are like smoking a blunt,
elevate your mind then you pass it around.
Last Victim of Gang Violence
April 15, 2003