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April 3, 2012 @ 06:46 AM
BuddyOmar

Post: 2921

Join Date: Jun 2011

Location: #OYYOYVille

Some niggas felt my writing no homo so I thought it would be a good idea to share with my fellow writing niggas. We can all share with each others no homo.

Poetry, raps, stories, ramblings etc.

Post them jawns in the thread nahmean?

http://www.youtube.com/user/TheBuddyOmar?feature=mhee |||||||||||||| Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/buddy_omar

April 3, 2012 @ 06:54 AM
ignorantian

Post: 1643

Join Date: Apr 2009

Yeee. Don't be too harsh on people. Constructive criticism only. I am really interested in reading shit from other HBers.
April 3, 2012 @ 08:12 AM
BuddyOmar

Post: 2921

Join Date: Jun 2011

Location: #OYYOYVille

Dug up an old story I wrote back in the day.

Never finished it but fuck it I'mma let yall niggas peep it.


“Silhouettes”

Their figures were merely faint reminders he still existed. The crooked black beanie laid upon his brow, the grungy, faded blue jeans, scuffed and marked boots were his uniform. He trudged along his path just as he would any other day, clutching a paperbag draped waterbottle full of his nightly drink. It was as if he was dying, his soul slowly slipping into the next plane of existence yet physically anchored in this one. To many, he was already dead. From no one he received neither a glance nor glare, and surely not longstanding stares. To the vendors on the street corner that occasionally peered out of the brightly lit shops, he was just a nameless vagrant. Nothing more. Eye contact was rare. It was hard to catch his dark brown eyes under the black beanie and long, stained beard that masked his face. Recently he developed a limp. Bad posture, overuse--who knows, who cares? Why should they?

The corner shop. That was his halfway point every night. The dark olive military jacket he wore was a reminder of a past life. To him, it was as if reincarnation came early, punishment for past misdeeds. He was an anomaly. Reincarnated into a new physical form without death. Preemptive punishment. Primal desires didn’t drive him any more. The only attention he was paid by women was that of disgust. Even the crackwhores saw him as a leper of sorts. The well dressed, attractive trophy wives appeared to not even see him from behind their gold framed sunglasses. Children were the only ones that looked anymore. It was as if they used him as a reminder of what rock bottom was. The bench mark of failure. He spent many a night pleading, demanding to whatever unseen deity to undo his fate. Those days were at first difficult, but on nights like this, nothing more but distant memories. He reached the corner store. He found it fascinating in some ways how people changed, yet the world remained constant. The kids that were regulars at the corner store were changing ever so fast.

Last year they wore loose fitting jeans, this year, tighter fitting jeans. Their shirts were totally different, their voices, deeper, more developed. The store itself however was the same. A dingy, corrugated tin roof adorned, urban shanty of sorts. He managed a smile, barely exposing his discolored teeth. One of the boys he recognized, he remembered when the boy was much younger, his face now more defined, a bit of facial hair even. “Hey, mister, what’s going on?” the boy nodded, motioning with a can of energy drink in his hand. He said nothing. He returned with a nod of his own and smiled, his yellow teeth peeking out from beneath his mustache covered lip. The kids returned to their conversation and he opened the corner store’s door, entering the cramped shop. The door’s opening set off a bell to alert the cashier of a customer. Noticing it was his regular visitor, he simply glanced and returned his attention to the magazine he was reading. The corner store had several cashiers over the years. He easily recognized this cashier with his small, metllaic placard attached to the breast pocket of his light blue button-down shirt. The tag read “Gustavo.” Gustavo has worked there for the past four years he assumed. He’d lost track of time. The reek of sweat and alcohol reached Gustavo’s nose before he arrived at the register. “Pack of Newport lights and… hang on one sec…” he briefly left the counter to grab a candy bar. A Three Musketeers bar. He placed the bar on the counter, next to the teal colored pack of cigarettes. Gustavo swiftly gripped he items one-by-one, running them through the barcode scanner. “9.31” he flatly stated. The bum reached into his pocket withdrawing a few crumpled dollars, quarters and nickels fell out on to the cashier’s counter, the sound shimmering briefly until the coins flattened from their abrupt collision with the plastic counter-top. He slid the coins into a huddle on the counter and laid down the cash. He had to figure out a way to get more money tonight. Gustavo placed the cigarettes and candy bar in a white plastic bag. “Have a good one.” Gustavo said. “Yeah, you too.” The bum said, adjusting his beanie and walking out the store, plastic bag swinging slightly every time he took a laboring, limping step. He approached his alleyway, familiar territory so-to-speak, and took a seat on the concrete. From his perspective, the Bum could see people walking, their silhouettes peeking ever so often past the gaps in the alley, exposing only pedestrians and passing cars.

He reached into his bag removing the carton of cigarettes he had just purchased. He removed a single cigarette, and closed the pack. He then swiftly shoved it into a distressed pocket in his olive green jacket. The jacket was full of tears and marks, akin to the marks and scars that nicked and marked up his face. His psyche however bore many more scars than flesh or bone could display. Regret, loss, and the unknown constantly tugged at him on a daily basis. The motivation of a past life had faded ever so quickly. His sole reason for living gradually became his sole reason for dying. He came very close to ending his existence over the debt and sorrow it caused him. The allure of glamour and glitz always intrigued him, now however, it seemed everything but pain would leave him. He found his stashed lighter; an old Zippo his dad gave him as a kid, and flicked the igniter several times. On his fifth or fourth click, the glinting spark turned into a small flame. He lit the cigarette and took a long drag on it, coughing a bit and spitting out onto the concrete he sat upon. He looked out into the street again. He was tempted to jump in front of a cab—hell maybe even a bus—just to end it all. He remembered how much he loved America. He recalled enlisting the day he graduated the high school. He then briefly smirked at his recollection of his father shaking his hand the day he returned home from basic training draped in his olive drab uniform. “If only, if only…” he said aloud. “If Only”, a phrase that would certainly befit his meager existence. “If only…” he repeated again.
Out of the corner of the bum’s ear he heard yelling. The voices sounded muffled. Suddenly, a door leading outward into the alley way swung open, the voices reaching an almost deafening volume. “No, no, man, where the fuck is it?” the loudest of the voices stood out to the bum. “Bro, I swear, I didn’t take it, you got me confused for some other dude.” The bum’s vision focused on one of the figures. The voice he’d just heard sounded familiar. “Dude, listen, you know I would never take your shit bro. I would never disrespect you like that.” After hearing the voice again, he realized it was the boy who greeted him earlier before he entered the convenient store. “Bullshit, man. I know you have it. Either tell me where it’s at, or give it up. Shit ain’t worth dyin’ over nigga.” the loud voice repeated itself. He glanced to his left toward the crowd of bodies, clear figures were hard to make out but he assume there were at least seven or eight people huddled together. The bum put the cigarette out and pushed himself on to his feet sliding his back up the concrete wall he was leaning against only a second or two before. He crouched down, using a dumpster ahead of him as cover so he could eavesdrop on the altercation without exposing himself. “Listen dog,” the loud voice paused and he clapped his hands before continuing, “This shit ain’t a game. I know you was fucking wit’ one of my boys and you took his pack. Take ya’ backpack off nigga. I bet you ain’t even got books in there.” This was followed by more yelling, every fiber of his being told him not to do what he was about to do, but some miniscule part of him made him do otherwise. He leapt out from the crouched dumpster and yelled out, “The fuck yall doing!” he rapidly approached the crowd. Some of the boys laughed as he came closer. “The fuck? Yo check this dude out. This nigga crazy, yo. A’yo mister, you wanna die?” one of the boys reached into his pants and withdrew a black handgun. The bum scanned the huddle of figures and his eyes found the boy he recognized from the store earlier. He assume he was the one being hassled because he had the backpack on. “Listen…I do-….I don’t know why you guys are bothering the little kids, but leave them alone….Please.” He was panting, just what he did was the most vigorous physical activity he’d done in months. The adrenaline pulsing through his body was a familiar feeling, he felt like he was back in a fire fight again. “Listen up with yo’ crazy ass, bruh. These little dudes here fucked around with something they shouldn’t have. This little dude right here,” the man grabbed the kid with the backpack and continued, “…this little dude right here is fucking with my livelihood, dog. I have a job my dude. My job is to ensure that my customers ain’t going hungry out here, man. All I want the little man to do is simple: open the fucking backpack or shit is gonna get real outta hand.” He along with another of the men clutched a small pistol in their hands. He glanced at the handguns and recognized them. The boy grabbing the boy by his shoulder was armed with an M9 Berretta and the other gripped a Glock. He realized these men were more than likely drug dealers. “I don’t care. I don’t mean any disrespect sir, but please, leave the boys alone. It’s a school night, isn’t it? Don’t you care about them getting enough rest for school tomorrow?” the bum said with a tone of sarcasm toward the end. The men actually laughed at this. “Ah, man…you think you funny don’t you. Here, listen, I’ll break you off ten dollars to go mind your own business, dog. I ain’t even playing,” he reached in his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill and stared the bum in his eyes, “Here…take it. Just get the fuck outta’ here.” The bum slowly walked toward his outstretched hand, a glinting, silver watch was strapped to his wrist as the crumpled ten dollar bill sat languidly in his hand. The bum reached close enough proximity to the hand and reached for the bill. In an instant, the bum ambushed the man—grabbing his wrist and striking his throat with a swift strike. He used the collapsing mans body as a shield and put him in a headlock. The bewildered boys leaped back fearing the other drug dealer would shoot them. “LISTEN! LISTEN!” the bum started screaming, the adrenaline rush was incredible. He realized the man dropped the pistol and whilst still keeping him in the headlock, he crouched down and picked up the gun with his free hand. “Yo! Chill! Drop him, man! Drop him!” the other drug dealer was pointing the pistol right at the bum and his make-shift shield. “NO! LISTEN!” he gasped out, struggling to control his energy. “Listen to me very carefully. I don’t want to kill you. Put your gun down. Put it down.” The drug dealer didn’t respond. He still aimed down the sights, his hand clearly rattling. “Listen…first off, your aiming with one hand, you’re not going to hit me, especially not my head. You’re gonna end up shooting your buddy here. Just put the gun down, I don’t want to have to kill you.” The bum said calmly, clearly just as surprised as the drug dealer. “Wha-wha-wha-what is you some kinda’ undercover cop or some shit? How you do that?” the drug dealer asked, the gun steadying in his hand. “I was in the Army. Special Forces. You play video games, right? I used to be one of those guys. Except I did it for real.” The Bum explained. “Alright listen…this shit ain’t worth dying over, let my associate go, and we’ll leave these kids alone. I need that backpack though. That’s it. Let go of my friend, lemme’ get the back pack, and we outta here. I swear.” The drug dealer sounded pretty convincing, the gun still in his hands, this time he gripped it with both hands as if following the Bum’s advice.

“No. The kid keeps his bag.” The Bum flatly stated. “Listen man, you fucking us up here. Put the shit down. These kids ain’t innocent.” The drug dealer replied. “I’m not going to tell you again. Put the gun down or I’m going to put you down. Last warning.” The bum flexed his ring and pinky fingers on the grip of the Berretta. “NO! Let go of my fucki-“ a shot rang out. The drug dealer couldn’t finish his sentence as the bullet struck him in the abdomen. His entire body went limp and collapsed. The Bum put another round in his head for good measure. The drug dealer’s body lay motionless in the alleyway, a small, bloody spot on his head began to leak profusely. He slacked his grip on the other one’s head and released him from the headlock. He hadn’t realized, but his strong grip on his neck had choked him out. His body slumped over onto the cold concrete, not far from where the body of the other drug dealer was. He approached the boys, who were horribly frightened from what they just witnessed. “Hey man, it’s ok. You’re ok now.” The Bum said approaching the boy. “What did they want that was in your backpack?” the Bum asked. The boy’s face was horrified. He looked like he was about to cry. “What’s the matter? Don’t be afraid, man. I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re cool.” The Bum reassured him. “What’s in your back pack though? Why the hell were they giving you that much trouble over it.” The Bum asked, his hand on the boys packpack. “I….I….” the boy struggled to speak, but his lips were trembling. His eyes watered up and he began to cry. The Bum was perplexed. He didn’t know if it was the trauma of the violence, or perhaps something else. The Bum took the backpack off of the boy. It seemed rather light in his hands. The small black Jansport backpack had the word “Uptown” written in white ink on the exterior of the bag. The Bum unzipped the back and tipped it over. Out of the bag fell candy bars and loose dollar bills. The bills fluttered out and the candy bars rained out of the bag until nothing more left the backpack. They were "Three Musketeers" bars. The Bum stared at the candy bars and money and had a horrific epiphany: these men weren’t drug dealers, they were trying to protect the convenient store. “I’m sorry…we didn’t mean…we didn’t want anyone to get hurt.” The boy was sobbing now. The tears slicked off his face--glinting in the dimly lit alleyway as they trickled into the ever expanding blood puddle.

http://www.youtube.com/user/TheBuddyOmar?feature=mhee |||||||||||||| Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/buddy_omar

April 3, 2012 @ 04:42 PM
ignorantian

Post: 1643

Join Date: Apr 2009

I enjoyed that, Omar. I know you said it isn't finished but what you have so far is pretty good. If you were to finish it, which I'd encourage, I'd suggest maybe elaborating more on what the main character's life had been like (like why he ended up in the situation he is) and maybe easing more gradually in to the climax. It came pretty suddenly.
But like I said, it was a good read and I liked it.
April 3, 2012 @ 06:46 PM
BuddyOmar

Post: 2921

Join Date: Jun 2011

Location: #OYYOYVille

Word is bond. I kind of wanted to draw it out more but I had to do it for a short story project. LOL i kind of just said fuck it and ended it the way I did. But i definitely appreciate the feedback sir. Thank you for taking the time to read it.

http://www.youtube.com/user/TheBuddyOmar?feature=mhee |||||||||||||| Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/buddy_omar

April 3, 2012 @ 09:03 PM
jaketoews

Post: 126

Join Date: Oct 2010

Location: United States

damn, that was pretty good.
March 26, 2013 @ 09:48 PM
dandamaaan

Post: 3

Join Date: Mar 2013

This is my friends haiku that I thought was dope

"€œI miss you" has lost
Its meaning and importance.
I need a new word.

http://livingparttoo.tumblr.com/
March 26, 2013 @ 09:52 PM
lipsondick

Post: 49

Join Date: Mar 2013

this big booty hoe
should sit on my fucking face
I love big booty

haiku game 3hunna
March 26, 2013 @ 10:18 PM
bronze

Post: 845

Join Date: Aug 2010

post the umbrella girl
March 26, 2013 @ 11:08 PM
craigsagersuit

Post: 3001

Join Date: Nov 2011

Location: 909/626

QUOTE Originally posted by đẹp trai


This one time I was at a thrift store and didn't find much, but I did see a really vintage looking umbrella once. It was like the ones that are handcrafted in England and looked really nice with a worn wooden handle. This girl was looking at it and say me admiring it out of the corner of her eye. She smiled at me and we made eye contact. I asked if she was going to buy it and she took it and planted it to the ground and leaned on it like Charlie Caplin and replied "Why are you interested?" in a playful way. It was pretty cute. She ended up letting me buy it and we both went our ways. 

A few days later I was at a cafe trying to warm up a bit with a cup of coffee. I had my umbrella with me which came in handy since it was pouring rain out. I was standing in line when all of a sudden this guy starts making a scene. He's yelling at his girlfriend and berating her in front of everyone and then he admits publicly that he's been cheating on her for awhile now. He storms out of the cafe with his umbrella in hand. 

She rushes out into the rain and just stops in front of the cafe and I realize it's the same girl I met at the thrift store a few days back. Everyone inside is gawking and whispering about the whole thing... I grab my umbrella, walk out to her, but she's already soaking wet, shaking from the cold, and crying. I take my umbrella, lay it aside, and stand next to her in the rain sipping my coffee. She looks up at me, her lips still quivering, and just leans up against me grabbing my sleeve. We stand there for what seemed like hours, but without saying a word she starts walking while holding my arm. We end up outside of her apartment. She places a hand on my face, stares doe eyed at me, kisses me on the cheek, and goes into her apartment complex. To this day we have never met again. 

So did I ever find something dope at a thrift store? Yea, I found true romance and an experience that will haunt my heart for a lifetime.

He's cute? I bet he ain't #Hansum

March 26, 2013 @ 11:11 PM
adoboFosho

Post: 2992

Join Date: Apr 2007

dis buddy omar
why dis nigga so buddy
why he so omar?

http://www.ebay.com/usr/adobo_fosho... selling black/white flyknits... look like yeezy!!!

March 27, 2013 @ 03:01 AM
Aubrey.

Post: 185

Join Date: Dec 2012

Location: Toronto

QUOTE Originally posted by đẹp trai


This one time I was at a thrift store and didn't find much, but I did see a really vintage looking umbrella once. It was like the ones that are handcrafted in England and looked really nice with a worn wooden handle. This girl was looking at it and say me admiring it out of the corner of her eye. She smiled at me and we made eye contact. I asked if she was going to buy it and she took it and planted it to the ground and leaned on it like Charlie Caplin and replied "Why are you interested?" in a playful way. It was pretty cute. She ended up letting me buy it and we both went our ways. 

A few days later I was at a cafe trying to warm up a bit with a cup of coffee. I had my umbrella with me which came in handy since it was pouring rain out. I was standing in line when all of a sudden this guy starts making a scene. He's yelling at his girlfriend and berating her in front of everyone and then he admits publicly that he's been cheating on her for awhile now. He storms out of the cafe with his umbrella in hand. 

She rushes out into the rain and just stops in front of the cafe and I realize it's the same girl I met at the thrift store a few days back. Everyone inside is gawking and whispering about the whole thing... I grab my umbrella, walk out to her, but she's already soaking wet, shaking from the cold, and crying. I take my umbrella, lay it aside, and stand next to her in the rain sipping my coffee. She looks up at me, her lips still quivering, and just leans up against me grabbing my sleeve. We stand there for what seemed like hours, but without saying a word she starts walking while holding my arm. We end up outside of her apartment. She places a hand on my face, stares doe eyed at me, kisses me on the cheek, and goes into her apartment complex. To this day we have never met again. 

So did I ever find something dope at a thrift store? Yea, I found true romance and an experience that will haunt my heart for a lifetime.
Craig, is this your work of art? It's very heart-warming and got a real nigguh bawlin' in tears. I love how that nigguh just came thru wit that captain save-a-hoe mentality and walked her to her apartment, nah' mean?

May your neighbors respect you, trouble neglect you, angels protect you, and heaven accept you.

March 27, 2013 @ 03:03 AM
Captain Al

Post: 1653

Join Date: Feb 2013

QUOTE Originally posted by đẹp trai


This one time I was at a thrift store and didn't find much, but I did see a really vintage looking umbrella once. It was like the ones that are handcrafted in England and looked really nice with a worn wooden handle. This girl was looking at it and say me admiring it out of the corner of her eye. She smiled at me and we made eye contact. I asked if she was going to buy it and she took it and planted it to the ground and leaned on it like Charlie Caplin and replied "Why are you interested?" in a playful way. It was pretty cute. She ended up letting me buy it and we both went our ways. 

A few days later I was at a cafe trying to warm up a bit with a cup of coffee. I had my umbrella with me which came in handy since it was pouring rain out. I was standing in line when all of a sudden this guy starts making a scene. He's yelling at his girlfriend and berating her in front of everyone and then he admits publicly that he's been cheating on her for awhile now. He storms out of the cafe with his umbrella in hand. 

She rushes out into the rain and just stops in front of the cafe and I realize it's the same girl I met at the thrift store a few days back. Everyone inside is gawking and whispering about the whole thing... I grab my umbrella, walk out to her, but she's already soaking wet, shaking from the cold, and crying. I take my umbrella, lay it aside, and stand next to her in the rain sipping my coffee. She looks up at me, her lips still quivering, and just leans up against me grabbing my sleeve. We stand there for what seemed like hours, but without saying a word she starts walking while holding my arm. We end up outside of her apartment. She places a hand on my face, stares doe eyed at me, kisses me on the cheek, and goes into her apartment complex. To this day we have never met again. 

So did I ever find something dope at a thrift store? Yea, I found true romance and an experience that will haunt my heart for a lifetime.
Craig, is this your work of art? It's very heart-warming and got a real nigguh bawlin' in tears. I love how that nigguh just came thru wit that captain save-a-hoe mentality and walked her to her apartment, nah' mean?
it's a good story... but i think it was posted in some thrift store thread.

one of the best HB posts to this date.

tumblr: bankpaper.tumblr.com Instagram: @bankpaper

March 27, 2013 @ 03:17 AM
craigsagersuit

Post: 3001

Join Date: Nov 2011

Location: 909/626

QUOTE Originally posted by đẹp trai


This one time I was at a thrift store and didn't find much, but I did see a really vintage looking umbrella once. It was like the ones that are handcrafted in England and looked really nice with a worn wooden handle. This girl was looking at it and say me admiring it out of the corner of her eye. She smiled at me and we made eye contact. I asked if she was going to buy it and she took it and planted it to the ground and leaned on it like Charlie Caplin and replied "Why are you interested?" in a playful way. It was pretty cute. She ended up letting me buy it and we both went our ways. 

A few days later I was at a cafe trying to warm up a bit with a cup of coffee. I had my umbrella with me which came in handy since it was pouring rain out. I was standing in line when all of a sudden this guy starts making a scene. He's yelling at his girlfriend and berating her in front of everyone and then he admits publicly that he's been cheating on her for awhile now. He storms out of the cafe with his umbrella in hand. 

She rushes out into the rain and just stops in front of the cafe and I realize it's the same girl I met at the thrift store a few days back. Everyone inside is gawking and whispering about the whole thing... I grab my umbrella, walk out to her, but she's already soaking wet, shaking from the cold, and crying. I take my umbrella, lay it aside, and stand next to her in the rain sipping my coffee. She looks up at me, her lips still quivering, and just leans up against me grabbing my sleeve. We stand there for what seemed like hours, but without saying a word she starts walking while holding my arm. We end up outside of her apartment. She places a hand on my face, stares doe eyed at me, kisses me on the cheek, and goes into her apartment complex. To this day we have never met again. 

So did I ever find something dope at a thrift store? Yea, I found true romance and an experience that will haunt my heart for a lifetime.
Craig, is this your work of art? It's very heart-warming and got a real nigguh bawlin' in tears. I love how that nigguh just came thru wit that captain save-a-hoe mentality and walked her to her apartment, nah' mean?
i wish breh. but nah here's the original post http://hypebeast.com/forums/off-topic/42850/page/2#3689815

i too  when i first read it.

He's cute? I bet he ain't #Hansum


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