#TBT OR #80s Baby

"What cha gonna do with my lovin'?
I'm crazy 'bout your smile.
What cha gonna do with my lovin'?
Please don't make me fantasize.
What cha gonna do with my lovin'?
Tell me now..."


I was raised on Stephanie Mills. My moms and auntie competed against her growing up in church choir competitions. Strong Island vs. Brooklyn. She has so much fly material. Luh huh.




Watts or Mississippi, choose your inferno. My roots in the Bronx, same fuego, no disco.
Where police serve as gestapos, descendants of the Third Reich.
From the frisk to the cuffing, something didn't go right.
Meh bredren can't breathe, their response, squeeze harder.
His soul leaves his body, now his seeds have no father.
The killers never saw trial, the deceased, temporary street martyrs...


---an excerpt from the poem "Pain" by Ty Thompson, from the upcoming project Love is Love, coming February 2017.


Call me crazy, but I'll take the '80s over any decade in my lifetime. Sure, a lot of fucked up shit came with the times (crack and AIDS), but the evils of the time period came at the hands of treacherous and corrupt men, as always. But to me, the '80s set the table for so many things that we enjoy today. There was no HDTV, but we had cable (think MTV, Nickelodeon & ESPN and their impact on popular culture). Hip Hop made its way from BXNYC to the masses, and by the close of the decade, only the truest of haters could ignore the locomotive coming popular culture's way. Music in general was better. More eclectic. I grew up off white boys like Hall & Oates and Michael McDonald, and never thought any different. PBS (Sesame Street, Mr. Rogers, Electric Company, Reading Rainbow & Bob Ross the painter). Video Arcades & Nintendo. The Goonies. Michael Joseph Jackson, Michael Gerard Tyson & Michael Jeffrey Jordan (nuff said). 1988 (nuff said). But most importantly, it's the time in which Mama Shareon taught her young lion Ty the virtues of life in midst the urban jungle of Uptown NYC. My dad was the fighter, but I only felt safe in my mother's arms. She made life exciting and vibrant to me. She put the pen in my hand. The '80s had its own appeal, an appeal which will always be near and dear to my nostalgic heart and soul. I may be from the class of '78, but I'll always be an '80s baby.


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