8
The revolution will not be televised. The revolution will be live.
23
My father left his home to find a new place for us to live. We took his example of place, race, space and culture and rebooted that. We started something new. And we realized that maybe we don’t need a home - maybe home is where the family is, maybe it’s where love is. And I needed something to grapple on to, to communicate this and I found hip-hop music. Hip-Hop stands for: Highly Intellectual People Hovering Over Politics. That hyphen between the hip and the hop is the land that we walk on. A lot of people view hip-hop as an ignorant medium, but hip-hop is one of the most freeing forms of art form I have ever encountered in my life.  -Yassin Alsalman

My father left his home to find a new place for us to live. We took his example of place, race, space and culture and rebooted that. We started something new. And we realized that maybe we don’t need a home - maybe home is where the family is, maybe it’s where love is. And I needed something to grapple on to, to communicate this and I found hip-hop music. Hip-Hop stands for: Highly Intellectual People Hovering Over Politics.

That hyphen between the hip and the hop is the land that we walk on. A lot of people view hip-hop as an ignorant medium, but hip-hop is one of the most freeing forms of art form I have ever encountered in my life. 

-Yassin Alsalman

4
Brother Michael’s love Two years ago, when I was about to begin attending Greater Hartford Academy of Arts, Michael Muhammad Knight wrote to me in a facebook message and said: There’s a story that you’re meant to tell, and you’re the only one on the planet qualified to tell it. Keep living and building. The best advice I can give to a young artist is that you are what you eat. Everything that you digest becomes an ingredient in what you put out. Every book, song, movie, friendship, adventure, life experience that you digest is going to manifest in what you write, so just find all the good food that you can, and it’ll mix up into something amazing. The wrong food will make you other than your own self.

Brother Michael’s love

Two years ago, when I was about to begin attending Greater Hartford Academy of Arts, Michael Muhammad Knight wrote to me in a facebook message and said:

There’s a story that you’re meant to tell, and you’re the only one on the planet qualified to tell it. Keep living and building.

The best advice I can give to a young artist is that you are what you eat. Everything that you digest becomes an ingredient in what you put out. Every book, song, movie, friendship, adventure, life experience that you digest is going to manifest in what you write, so just find all the good food that you can, and it’ll mix up into something amazing.

The wrong food will make you other than your own self.

1
Home is where the heart is at and I left my heart in Hartford when I came back to Coventry two months ago. Here, I feel no love, see no art - just pretentious motherfuckers walking around, glorifying something they know nothing about. Hartford is like Lahore. A little less dysfunctional but still the same. In the midst of that dysfunctionality is where I fit in. I don’t belong in order and symmetry but in chaos, irregularity and art. So I just pray and count the days until I return home.

Home is where the heart is at and I left my heart in Hartford when I came back to Coventry two months ago. Here, I feel no love, see no art - just pretentious motherfuckers walking around, glorifying something they know nothing about.

Hartford is like Lahore. A little less dysfunctional but still the same. In the midst of that dysfunctionality is where I fit in. I don’t belong in order and symmetry but in chaos, irregularity and art.

So I just pray and count the days until I return home.

3
accelerated beauty.
Abdul Rahman He was a prince from Tombouctou Sold to slavery and put in shackles A man torn from his wife and his son A prince sold for $930 to the white man In America he was the long-haired African Then they cut off his hair, divesting him of his nobility His name was no longer Abdul Rehman They didn’t know who he was but gave him the slave name of Prince He was forbidden to pray or read the Qu’ran So he etched the verses on sand He remained a prince through 40 years of slavery Remained dignified by mastering the circumstance he was put in They brought him over in a slave ship, like he was an animal And sent him back in The Hariot as the prince he was When he stood on Africa again, he prayed to the east He died before reaching Tombouctou We never learned about him in history class But he is our king

Abdul Rahman

He was a prince from Tombouctou
Sold to slavery and put in shackles

A man torn from his wife and his son
A prince sold for $930 to the white man

In America he was the long-haired African
Then they cut off his hair, divesting him of his nobility

His name was no longer Abdul Rehman
They didn’t know who he was but gave him the slave name of Prince

He was forbidden to pray or read the Qu’ran
So he etched the verses on sand

He remained a prince through 40 years of slavery
Remained dignified by mastering the circumstance he was put in

They brought him over in a slave ship, like he was an animal
And sent him back in The Hariot as the prince he was

When he stood on Africa again, he prayed to the east
He died before reaching Tombouctou

We never learned about him in history class
But he is our king

2
The Beat. where my heart is at.
2
1