Posted on 4 Comments

Remembering 9/11- Remembering Jimmy Cherry

This is a memorial post dedicated to the late Jimmy Cherry who my family lost on 9/11/04. A different tragedy, for a different reason. I published this in 2009 in the first years of Oddball Magazine. Thank You for allowing me the space to remember Jim while we also remember everyone who was lost on 9/11/01.



We Miss You Jimmy 

September 11, 2001, our nation suffered as a country, we suffered as people. We watched powerless as the buildings fell, and soon we were at war.

The next year on 9/11, I was in Salem Hospital. Soon I had the strongest manic episode I ever had and walked thirty six miles. I wrote a book about it.

I remember that day in Salem Hospital. Hearing the lists of people being remembered depressed me. I was angry at our president. I was paranoid. I thought something was going to happen again. I spent most of the time that day away from the television in my cage. Outside at Salem Hospital, in the psyche unit, there is a place, a cage like place to smoke cigarettes. While I was smoking, I could hear in the air, the sounds of jet planes. I knew they were fighter jets, surveying the land. It was really cloudy that day and cold. There was a beautiful girl there with me, we smoked cigarettes and began a conversation. She was manic, she was my manic girlfriend, while I was there.

September 11, 2003, I don’t remember. September 11th of the next year, I will never forget. That was the day my brother in law Jimmy died. He died of cancer. My sister has never been the same since he died. With my family being so distant, we all came together through Jimmy. I can never forget that day.

What happened the day Jimmy died, was called a living wake. I was there when he died. I watched my nephew then 15, holding his father’s hand, while my sister stroked the hair on Jimmy’s head, as we watched Jimmy die. I had never seen someone die before. My family has never been the same since. Yet, every september 11th, my family gets together, or if we can’t… we call one another, and remember.

Today is September 11th, 2009. It’s raining today. It always seems to rain on September 11th. On 9/11/01, it rained sulfur and burning ash from 84 floors up. Smoke and fire, as two towers crashed to the ground. On September 11th, 2004 when Jimmy died, it didn’t rain. But for my sister, I think it has never stopped raining.

God Bless All those who were lost on September 11th, all those who lost on September 11th, and all those still lost because of September 11th

Love you Andrea.

Posted on Leave a comment

The Oddball Show, Goodbye to 2016, We Never Liked You Anyway

Join the Oddballs tonight as they look back at 2016, a tumultuous year that included some important social movements, an historic election, and many diverse and talented guests here on the podcast. Tune in tonight at 8:30 and help us say, “Goodbye 2016, we never liked you anyway.”

Follow The Oddball Show on iTunes.

Posted on Leave a comment

The Oddball Show with George Panagopoulos – ELECTION NIGHT 2016

Spend Election Night 2016 with the Oddballs as they welcome writer, illustrator, and opinionated political pundit George Panagopoulos to the show. Up-to-the-minute reporting and Oddball analysis as America takes the next, frightening step into its future – it’s right here on your favorite podcaster’s favorite podcast, The Oddball Show.

Follow The Oddball Show on iTunes.

Posted on Leave a comment

Jagged Thought #148: Put (The Pen) Down


from the upcoming Train of Thought, 2017.

Pick it up, the pen
in your hand, look at it.
Put it to the edge of the margin
now let’s begin.

See I make music, melodies on any whim, you think your liquor is quicker, you’re liquid thinking
Drops of water, in a minute
I’ll show you who’s timid, when I open the doors of this train and start break dancing on the engine.

When I set a fire in your kitchen
I put it out by putting down a lyric or emblem, that redirects the system, soon the flames of the first start line dancing and recede back to a spark.

And you’re the gas and I’m the light
Let’s set it on fire, put the pen down let the ink spill out and inspire,

Rewire your programming that nasty dance of no. Bring it to a boil, let the time capsule open and let your soul explode!
That’s what I’m talking about!
Let chaos inside and put down the pen on margin inches, show mic control.

To each and every witness.


Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.


Posted on Leave a comment

The Oddball Show featuring L.U.C.C.I


L.U.C.C.I one of Boston’s shining lights and hottest poets in the Metro area, spoke with the Oddball Show on the topic of cyber bullying, his project A.W.E and even his role in the movie Ghostbusters (or Ghostbustas Ked, cause it was filled in Boston guy).  Check out this poem, and then hear it live at the Oddball Show, a collaboration of J.P Lime and Oddball Magazine. Have a great day and check out the Oddball Show, you’ll be glad you did ked.




My name is L.U.C.C.I.

Not to be confused with gucci
Or mistaken for hoochie.
I am a man with a duty
That might eventually force someone to sue me.
If anybody can prove me wrong
I beg of you to prove me.
I’ve never been shy to admit I was wrong
Just as long as we don’t argue
Like a radio playing the same song.
My name has five letters.
Each and every letter
Has a purpose I go by.
Even though I wisely know I’m not the wisest
I can honestly say that I try to be wise.
The first letter is L,
Stands for Listen
Because I choose to listen to blues of the smitten
Who’ve been written into non-existence.
I also listen to indifference and the happy.
I don’t care if their story is
Crappy, snappy or even sappy
Or if the nature is a major wager
Full of danger.
U is to Understand.
Whether you’re a woman or a man
I wanna understand the chances of
Circumstances getting better or worse.
Did you get the job letter,
Or were you cursed with a hearse?
Understand doesn’t mean justify
But it can let you know
Why they will or won’t testify.
Letter number three
Happens to be C.
Stands for Care.
I care about anyone and everyone.
Anything and everything.
You’re a snob who’s a con man
Looking down on a slob for a regular job,
Ignorantly full of hating doctor
With every play in the way of debate,
The love of my life
Or the first to pull a knife.
Next letter to come
Another C for Consider.
I have sedational Consideration
For the suffering who continue to buffer
Just to benefit another that could care less
Of a slave mother.
I have consolational Consideration for
An animal or human
Born to the shores of life they never asked for.
Taught from the core
Close the door on the poor
Keep asking for more and more.
Letter number five is I, Inquire.
I Inquire about the fire and ice
Within the tired, the wired, the dire
Put it on a flier
I don’t care
Whatever it is
I still Inquire for my knowledge
To grow higher
Even futuristically
I still Inquire.
Everybody has a story.
Here’s mine:
Southwest Detroit ’til I was fourteen.
Picked on and bullied
Just for being me.
Awkward and shy
As well as mad and sad.
Unnecessary drama at home
To feel even more alone.
Experience and images of interracial harmony
Until I kissed a different race
But couldn’t do so comfortably.
Forced to look over my shoulder
For people I loved and hated
By hatred I thought was outdated.
Down south to Tennessee and Georgia.
At the time for me
Compared to the D
I wondered if blacks were really free.
But now I’m in the bean where I see
Bigotry is everywhere
You can possibly stare
But too many people don’t seem to care.
So now I’m older and developed a mind
Realizing I can’t go back in time
For justice mountains to climb
Not only with racism but sexism.
All my life experience and images of women
Who claim nice guys finish last.
That’s because they couldn’t see past
The bastard master of lying and conniving
Who wishes to cast them into a role of a hoe
With a week to week limb in a cast.
Is a toxicity in simplicity
That’s in enormity
And surpasses perplexity.
I see a society full of judgement
Whether it comes to
Superstitions of politicians
With oppositions to
Peaceful and loving compositions
Or individuals with animosity
Toward the generosity of those
From another mother
And even some from the same mother.
By the way
As I write this
Infinite innocence are having
Infinite innocence taken away
Just for the taking.
Every system, every country
Somehow corrupt and broken.
By no means am I a saint
But compared to the needy and greedy
In the towers of power
I feel like a token.
So I’m telling you
I have thoughts and wishes
Like a door revolving around peace and love.
A solution with no institution
Of a revolver to evolve to this conclusion.
I’m Listening
Not to be confused with gucci
Or mistaken for hoochie.
My name is L.U.C.C.I.



Posted on Leave a comment

3TV Premiere: Alyssa Marie (feat. Destiny Claymore)



No Strings Attached

You can’t expect to change me
(You want the fans, the respect, and the name.)
for what you think
(You want it all, want your foot up in the game.)
is the best thing for me.

You can’t expect to force me
(You want the fans, the respect, and the name.)
to do what you do.
(You want it all, want your foot up in the game.)

Can’t fill my shoes.

You can’t expect to change me
(You want the fans, the respect, and the name.)
for what you think
is the best thing for me.
(But there’s some things you gotta change.)

Listen, We really used to dig your music, till money started to blind you.
Seen that you put up “HeartBeat” for sale on the charts on iTunes. We’re disappointed…always thought you repped that real shit, but soon as the money comes you succumb to a record deal quick?

It never fails…wanna profit off of your work but that’s not what its all about, you should drop it all for the worth of the music you make… not for the paper, you can’t be paid for the labor or time it takes to create the product we savor.

Gotta put every waking moment to making it dope to the point there ain’t no time for a job so you’re staying broke. But that’s okay…we appreciate real when you represent, but don’t feel that you’re worth a cent, in return and that’s evident, by percentages of the purchased versus the pirated verses.

We get paid for our daily job, but you should provide a service for free…and if you don’t do it exactly how we demand then we’re labeling you a sell out faster than you can stand.
It’s only boom bap and old school. And you rap on some of that new jack…it shows you let the money control you.

Rap on the beats we want.
With topics that we expect.
And you’ll never make a living,
but promise you’ll get respect.

You can’t expect to change me
(You want the fans, the respect, and the name.)
for what you think
(You want it all, want them screaming out your name.)
is the best thing for me.
You can’t expect to force me
(You want the dough, and the lights, and the fame.)
to do what you do.
(You want it all, want them screaming out your name.)

Can’t fill my shoes.

You can’t expect to change me
(You want the dough, and the lights, and the fame.)
for what you think
is the best thing for me.
(But there’s some things you gotta change.)

We know you think you got it made…independent artist with views. Your following’s minimal, but you’re true to the art that you do.
Got respect, but not a check…so you’re stuck starving to prove you ain’t selling out, but you’re broke, only so far you can move.

All that we wanna do is help you connect the dots, enhance what you got already…we heard your record, it’s hot, for real…you don’t need a lot…maybe some label money, we’ll do all the work and thinking just need you to play the dummy.
So don’t let the shit these finicky hipsters saying deter you…you’d get a percentage of every penny we earn you. How many people heard you, a hundred thousand at most? You could expand around the globe if we brand your sound and your shows.

Yo, If you would learn to bend better…you could be a trendsetter. All you need to do is express with less of a vendetta. Tighten up your image to fit a sassier look. Pick some trappier beats and write some catchier hooks. Even give you a couple songs where you can do your little raw shit, so you won’t feel as bad and your fans ain’t saying you lost it.

Rap on the beats we want,
with topics that we expect.
You’ll probably lose your reputation
but promise you’ll get your check.

You can’t expect to change me
(Forget the buzz and the money and the fame.)
for what you think
(I don’t need to make a name.)
is the best thing for me.

You can’t expect to force me
(Forget the buzz and the money and the fame.)
to do what you do.
(I don’t need to make a name.)

Can’t fill my shoes.

You can’t expect to change me
(Forget the buzz, and the money, and the fame.)
for what you think
(I don’t need to make a name.)
is the best thing for me.
(So you can try to make me change, but…)

Before a label or a fan base,
before backpackers and slammed breaks,
when I was happy rapping for nothing but love and hand shakes, I heard the urban legends.
Labels that wanna alter you,
fans that demand you make art, but only the way they want you too.

And both of them would keep their pockets full while you struggling. Hustling to juggle your love and survival wondering if either one of them would offer the right approach both telling you what to do and I know it’s the life I chose.

I’m the one that made my music public…knew what it was, I see the biggest haters made from the people that used to love it. Don’t want you to make a dime but expect all of your time invested it would be fine if they get you need to survive.

I would need to put the overtime hours in to stay relevant, no time for that if I get job but they say don’t sell your shit…while the label is saying they’d pay me to make my music I’m not gonna lie is tempting but not with the way they do it.

Maybe it’s true, that both of them just want a puppet They should check the branches of the tree before they start barking up it.

Cuz that’s never gonna be me.
Label or Indy Im’a be me.
Do what I love every single and cd.

And at the end…my soul don’t come with a price tag.
And got a set a strings and I’m never waving a white flag.

Rap on the beats I want,
with topics I pick to speak,
and if I never get respect or a check

I did it for me.


@alyssamarieraps: Being one of the remaining hip-hop artists with an unwavering dedication to the genre’s artistry, Massachusetts’ rapper Alyssa Marie has branded both her live performance and studio recordings with a style unlike any rapper you’ve heard. Though her flow and lyrics are hip-hop unconditionally, Alyssa Marie has blended elements of her influences ranging from hip-hop and soul to rock and reggae to create her alternative style of making inspired music.

As of 2015, Alyssa Marie’s own YouTube page has attained over 35,000 unique subscribers and exceeded 2 million views on her original content. She has been featured on WorldstarHipHop multiple times with cosigns and collaborations by a number of rap’s underground legends, while continuing her tour of performances across the U.S. The future will undoubtedly see Alyssa Marie’s career at new heights as she continues to set precedents, proving to be an artist to keep a close eye on.

Check out Alyssa Marie’s new EP “No Parades On Easy Street” here.  A staple for any hip-hop head.

@DestinyClaymore Hailing from San Diego, California, Destiny Claymore has always been involved in the arts. Claymore is the second oldest of four children and helped raise her siblings while struggling with abuse from her extended family. She drowned out this pain by participating in any and all sports and theater productions and by the age of 17 she had been in various music videos and dance companies that would soon lead her into music. With influences such as Paramore, Outkast, Tech N9ne, Destiny’s Child and more, the variety in her music tastes show in her songs. With a small frame, big hair and even bigger voice she is one/ half of Dark Matter her project with hip-hop artist Mad S. Check out more of her music here.