Grateful Hussle

A poem dedicated to Robert Hunter and Nipsey Hussle. Read the poem below or scroll down for our short film with me reading the piece.

Preface: My dear friend

Gregory Pettys

insisted I check out Substack, and though I’ve only been dabbling for a week here, I get it. Substack seems like a great opportunity for someone like myself: an independent publisher and writer.

I’ve been on this path since I published my first zine in 2007. I’ve published five books of my own, one climbing children’s book by D. Scott Borden and Mallory Logan, and a total of 25 zines. A few years ago I also started the Dirtbag State of Mind podcast.

As an effort to build up a base of stories here, I’m sharing some of my favorites; with some annotation, film, and photography, to make things a bit more interesting.

Today I’d like to share this poem, inspired by two brilliant writers that we lost in the last few years: Robert Hunter, the lyricist for Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead, and Nipsey Hussle, the visionary entrepreneur and rapper.

I hope you enjoy. At the end of this piece you can find the film I made with Jake Burchmore, inspired by the poem.

The author on Spottieottiedopalicious, Cave Wall, Indian Creek, Bears Ears National Monument. Photo: Dane Molinaro

This poem is dedicated to Robert Hunter and Nipsey Hussle.

From Anderson . Paak to Jack Kerouac

Beatnik, hippie, hip-hop, dirtbag

I got your back

Been dabblin’ in Bob Dylan

Since 1995

Got my common sense from Common

Who used to be Common Sense

Deadhead since ’95

When Jerry was still alive

Like Nipsey Hussle

I got on the bandwagon

A week before he died.

True story.

I thought my life’s path had been denied

But Jerry’s death gave me

Another breath

Instead of dosin’ my way to death or jail

I found another dangerous way to prevail

Climbing these rocks

Dipping into this bag of chalk

For the answers

And I’ll admit

It was white male privilege

That allowed me to do this

But it’s my privilege to put this dose of prose

In anyone’s ear who will listen

Any race, any gender, any sexual orientation

One world

One love

But back to the ABCs

Got my doctorate in chronic from Dr. Dre

Didn’t have the role models

’99 came along and it was Eminem

Darkest of the dark days

Times could have been easier than Eazy-E

But fuck it I flunked out with an F

Could have easily taken my last breath

In the last days of ’99

But that Y2K

Was as whack as Trump is today

Graduated from Dr. Dre to Mos Def

From Snoop to Lauryn Hill and Wyclef

So I kept breathing

And then I started feeding

Y’all my own words my own pain

And glory

Started telling my own story

Luckily in 2000

God gave me an eternal gift

Like the Gift of Gab of Blackalicious

I started praising the most high

High on Mother Nature

I started to let go

Of the I

And realized this was some bigger shit

And not just this big pimpin’ shit

Even tho Jay-Z is something of a hero to me

Any day tho I’ll take 2003 Talib Kweli

2001 killed our generation’s kindness

Couldn’t kill them with kindness

And then Bush’s blindness

But I was content with the rucksack and the chalk bag

Living out of a tent, and not paying rent

Too young, but already too old for war

Had the blessing to meet some who came back from Iraq

Or Afghanistan

Every chance I can

I’m not hateful

I’m grateful

Like the Dead.

But I had something on my mind.

That someone someplace ought to be hearing.

And flash forward one of my favorite rappers is No Name.

Turned on to by Chance The Rapper after a change in the game.

I sling my words and poems in the same way. No way,

Am I not owning my own publishing rights.

Gotta fight for your right to write, like my man Slug.

And I’m on this love ode

Went down many roads

Pulled over by the police

But they never busted me

Even though I had shrooms on me

Put my prayers out there

And asked many questions

Put Talib Kweli and Quality over quantity

With Phife on a Climb Called Quest

And ended up back at me

Ran for the roses

And ended up with doses of proses

And a renewal as old as Moses

Ran back up to the mountaintop

To ask Dr. Martin Luther King

What should I be?

Saw the answer at the sunrise

Even though I’m not a morning person

And said it was love

Truth be told though

This human mess

Is so complex

Like sex

Under it all

We’re the sum of something

Living under the sun

Might as well have some fun

And fight for what is right

We’re all one human race

Living with violence and silence

One comet could end it all.

Why ask why.

Take the time to lift each other up.

And at least try.

Signed,

Yours Truly

From A to Z.

Grateful Hussle, the film by yours truly and Jake Burchmore