Skyler Saunders
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Stories (2985)
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Does T.I. Stand for the Intellectual?
There once was a Douglass High School principal in Atlanta, Georgia who encouraged his students to employ a sophisticated vocabulary in their speech. He walked the hallways like a southern Joe Louis Clark whose sections of his life made it to the big screen as played by Morgan Freeman in Lean on Me (1989). Enter Clifford Harris. A young knucklehead who was as backward as his hat in his ways. Even though he would drop out of high school eventually, he never forgot the teachings and lessons that he learned from this Atlanta principal. Fast forward about twelve years and one of the hottest MC’s to ever come from the womb of the South, T.I./TIP emerged with a flow and a unique way of expressing his music like the blues. He picked up the slang of the streets and called it trap music, stylized as TRAP MUZIK. After a slew of altercations with the law, T.I. would be a number one best selling artist while contending against the clutches of the carceral system.
By Skyler Saunders7 years ago in Beat
Is Troy Ave Better Than Drake?
The rap world is fractured. On different planes, you have a Pulitzer Prize-winning act like Kendrick Lamar and on the other you have energetic and rambunctious figures like Soulja Boy still holding it down for pop-friendly and street-oriented fair. But at the top of the mountain sits a Canadian mogul who has achieved widespread acclaim and fortune to boot. This figure is of course Aubrey “Drake” Graham. With radio-friendly cuts and sometimes velvety hooks and entire songs to his credit, Drake has outperformed the competition for over a decade in terms of sales and skills. But what about the rappers at the other end of the spectrum with lower sales but higher credibility towards street figures? Roland “Troy Ave” Collins represents this bracket of hip-hop artists.
By Skyler Saunders7 years ago in Beat
Firm, but Not Crushing
Steel and glass enveloped the building in Wilmington, Delaware. A young COO named Kholer Ingot entered the skyscraper with energy and readiness. He possessed a chestnut skin tone and a flattop hairstyle. He was 33. His impeccable suit wrapped around him with exquisite precision. He journeyed to the elevator bay and boarded the enclosed space. He selected the 60th floor. Upon reaching that level, he met with the CEO of Afroflex Plastics, Alder Mann. Gray flecks in his dreadlocks showed his age. This CEO moved slower at his 97 years. But his mind remained glass shard sharp. He sat in a large room with 24 chairs around a huge oak table.
By Skyler Saunders7 years ago in Journal
World Aflame
Vespucciland and brand reigned at the fashion shows. The Wilmington, Delaware based company set the tone for other fashion houses. Its head designer, Trill von Caseman had dreamed up the idea of the fashion line in his basement. He wanted to create a label that featured high end clothing and accessories that could compete with the French and Italian designers. Caseman’s 38-year-old frame held within it the fire to innovate, to concoct, to invent. A T-shirt cost $800. Dress shoes showed price tags approaching $10,000. But with the advent of celebrities wearing his line on red carpets and musicians sporting his gear in their videos, the American company excelled at marketing.
By Skyler Saunders7 years ago in The Swamp
Ideas, Not Guns
Henrik Colm, contributing editor for the Delaware Times, stepped away from his computer. The glow from his smart devices illuminated his cherrywood skin, cropped Afro. He silenced his smartphone and switched off his tablet and notebook. He wanted to get out into the world and get his information on the six percent of private school shootings that have occurred on American soil from 2000 to 2018.
By Skyler Saunders7 years ago in The Swamp
Appropriate
The pieces of fabric fell to the floor like joy unraveling. Kitchens remained bereft of all food items. Potato sacks replaced the dresses and suits and denim jeans and t-shirts. Everyone in the United States all looked the same—ashen and like grey blobs of paint against a portrait of utter bleakness. Henrik Niles and his wife Anita were with their three children, Bradford (12), Caxton (eight), and Cecily (five), all huddled in their house as the government officials cleared out their home in Alapocas, Delaware. The expansive space proved to be a gem for the Appropriators to rummage through, ransack, and rob the rightful owners, their property. The sun on this day in August blistered the Delaware area and sent tensions high. Families lined up down the blocks filled with spacious mansions. This anger simmered as the Appropriators went in and out of homes like pest control agents.
By Skyler Saunders7 years ago in The Swamp
Motarded
A fire truck red pickup truck with chrome around the fenders and dual exhaust pipes roared to a stop at the Marine Corps Recruiting Station in Newark, Delaware. Private First Class Klyde Bakeman hopped out of the truck and yelled, “Oohrah!” He had covered the truck in decals: one read the “Rifleman’s Creed,” in red of course; another showed a bulldog with a KA-Bar between its teeth, another showed the division Bakeman hoped he be assigned to, First Marine Division; and among the dozens of “Semper Fi” stickers he also had a large Eagle Globe and Anchor decal on the hood of the truck in metallic gold. A vanity plate simply read, "Chesty."
By Skyler Saunders7 years ago in Serve
It Is Well
Great plumes of smoke escaped from one of the tanks at chemical company Hylan, Inc. in Wilmington, Delaware. Dark figures scurried off into the night. This October evening brought with it it’s own tone of terror even though Mischief Night and Halloween remained weeks away.
By Skyler Saunders7 years ago in Futurism
Choker Chain
Niso Quan, 20 and buoyant, walked down the street. It was the middle of the night in May. His chain wrapped around his neck like slave apparel. He listened to his music via his smartphones and earbuds. He ambled with a theatricality that spoke of rhythm and precise paces. He didn’t dance to the music. He was the music. He got all the way to the West Side in Wilmington, Delaware on Fifth Street. He approached his door when he stopped in mid-march. A few coughs and a gasp expelled from his mouth as he tugged at his chain. The thing would not come off of his neck. He gasped and gasped as he tried to use the butterfly knife that he carried around to slice through the links to no avail. More coughs came. Deep breaths came afterward. The chain only squeezed tighter like an anaconda wrapping around its prey. At last, he gave out his final breath. Quan perished right in front of his house with not a witness around.
By Skyler Saunders7 years ago in Futurism
For His Self-Interest
Pickup trucks by the dozens bombarded the gates. Personnel guarding those premises fell by gunfire and rocket-propelled grenade attacks. Barriers moved out of the way of the trucks once the men had employed a special machine to separate the obstructions with hydraulic rescue tools. The flow of enemy personnel swarmed the base like wasps. The Dover Air Force Base in Dover, Delaware braced for an attack by foreign aggressors. This night in April called the best men and women in uniform to action.
By Skyler Saunders7 years ago in Serve
