Behind the Pen

By Khali Raymond

In Behind the Pen, Khali Raymond reflects on his entire life from the place that he was born to the schools he once attended. Residing in Newark, New Jersey wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. From coping with the loss of his father to becoming a victim of bullying and struggling with mental illness, there's not a punch that Khali Raymond is going to hold in this memoir. It's beyond a pen. It's beyond a bar. It's a destiny... it's his destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Khali Raymond
• Release date: Oct 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370400607

Khali Raymond

Khali Raymond is an exceptional individual who had published a lot of work at a very young age. His serious and realistic writing style is just the icing on the cake when you’re indulging into him. Not only he’s into writing, but he has a muse for music and a whole lot of other things as well. Khali Raymond was born on December 22, 1998 in Newark, New Jersey. Ever since then, Khali has been working at refining his craft in the writing field.Learning how to read at the age of two, there were bright things ahead for this wise man. After going through a lot of life-changing experiences throughout his years, it’s inevitable that he’s doing this. As Khali writes book after book at a rapid rate, you can’t help but wonder how he does it. His continuous efforts to put out riveting and mind capturing work arouses a lot of people’s interest. People are curious as to what goes on in the head of this reclusive genius.Khali’s love for his city and community is extremely strong. That alone is a primary influence for his work. His continued humbleness and strong work ethic will carry him into places that the average person can dream of reaching. A lot of mystery shrouds this genius author, but Khali is more than genius. As he makes a vow to write until he dies, the good work will keep coming your way.When you do happen to read Khali’s work, the themes and vocabulary he uses is extremely strong and provocative. You will feel drawn into the power of his sword, and that sword is his pen. Be sure to follow Khali on all social media platforms you can find him on so you can see what he does next.

Book preview

Opening

This book is different from the ones that I’ve written so far. I just wanted to make that clear before you go thinking that you’re in for another one of my crazy tales. Well, this is a crazy tale. This tale is a true story. This is the tale of my life. This may be the rawest piece of work you’re probably going to read by me thus far. There’s some shit in here that your mother wouldn’t even want to read. This is the story of my life before writing found me.

There are no plots. There are no storylines. There are no crazy ass characters from my wild and unrestrained imagination. No filler. No fluff. There’s no bluffing. There’s no bullshit. Behind the Pen. This is my life behind the books and everything else that comes after it. I just want to take the time to thank everyone who’s played a role in helping me become the person that I am today.

If it wasn’t for those people, I wouldn’t be doing what I love. I’d probably be locked up or six feet under. Shoutout to the Brick City. No matter where I go, I’m always going to be from Newark—this is the place that raised me and I’m never going to forget that.

Shoutout to my labelmates—Tharyn, Kenny, Earl, and Nuke, the whole YTER label. I love all ya’ll. Thanks. Big shoutout to my family. They’ve been supporting me as well. Shoutout to Mayor Ras Baraka and his whole team, they’ve been supporting me on this journey.

I also want to thank Mr. Sinowitz and his son Gordon for the support as well. I really don’t know who else to shoutout here since there’s a lot of people I want to thank for making this a reality. Yeah, my boy Edwin. I ain’t forget Vincent either, haha. Shoutout to Edwin especially for giving me the idea to write something like this. Oh. I’ve done enough talking.

~1~

I’m going to tell ya’ll about my life. This is a memoir after all. Of everything I’ve been through in the past two years, I managed to accomplish a lot in such a short amount of time.

People would devote their entire livelihood to this and I did it in two years. I done wrote like six books and counting.

I got people asking me Well, how did you do that?

Matter fact, That’s insane. HOW did you do IT?

There’s really no answer to that question.

It isn’t. I think it’s rhetorical. At the same time, the answer is obvious.

Just do it.

That’s how you do it. There’s no secret to this shit, all you gotta do is go in there and handle yo’ business.

Just be consistent with it. I guess that’s another reason why I wrote this book anyway. People are constantly asking me who, what, where, how and why.

So, maybe this can answer the questions that I get tired of being asked. Because, I do get tired of being asked the same questions.

2014 was my breakthrough, I wanna say. 2014 was the year that I began transitioning into an artist. I was just trying to find myself then. I’m still on that journey to find myself as we speak. No matter how much you may know, you must be willing to learn more.

You must heighten yourself in all ways applicable. During that time, running track was pretty much my niche. Temporarily, it was. It was fun though, I met some cool people along the way.

Fast forward to 2016, I think I’ve found my true niche now. That niche is putting it down on paper.

Can’t nothing replace what I enjoy doing. This is just more than typing, writing, scribbling out words, proofreading and all that. This is life. It’s a way of living. It’s how I live…

My name is Khali Raymond and I was born on December 22, 1998 in Beth Israel Hospital, right in the City of Newark, New Jersey. My mom is Helen Jackson and my dad was Maliki Yomadeen Raymond.

It’s actually Maliki Yawmi-Deen Raymond, but I was taught to just say Yomadeen. They called him Yom. I have three siblings.

It’s time for a brief trip down memory lane. To me, it wasn’t really gifting. The memories I had then weren’t no goddamn gifts. Least not initially. It was 2011, which I dubbed the worst year of my life.

It was the worst year of my life. Well, one of the worst. The bullying in school escalated, issues with the family became coming to a head, they had me on antidepressants at that time, these girls didn’t pay me any attention and I just felt like a prisoner to my reality.

Before we continue—I have a thing or two to say about loyalty, you understand me? Watch who you call your homies. Those homies will be the ones that’ll turn their backs on you first. That blood is thicker than water crap is bullshit. Miss me with it.

Water been there for me at times where blood wasn’t. Blood ain’t all that. Even blood will turn against you. Man, I had family members who ain’t checked up on me for years now wanting to come around because they’re hearing that I’m writing books and all of that.

Some family members I knew though—we lost contact over the years and I simply can’t blame them because of lost time. Some of them even died.

Let’s see…

My dad left in 2000, my great-grandmother left in 2005, my first-born nephew left not too long ago amid the writing of this… a few other people that I really can’t remember are gone as well.

Everyone you call your bro ain’t your bro. Everyone you call your sis ain’t your sis. Everyone you call your ma definitely ain’t your ma.

Wolves wear sheep’s clothing, remember that. I’m not saying that everyone is twofaced but you gotta be alert and don’t get your damn hopes up.

I had that problem with the long-distance relationships that I got into. Shit, I even got that problem with the people I actually know.

Remain humble. You can still love that person. Unless it’s necessary, don’t go the extra mile. Gas is pricey, shit don’t run on motherfucking water. Make choices with your mind, not your damn heart.

Use your brain to think, not your heart. Your mind knows best. It may be those instances where you feel like your gut isn’t right, but the mind sends the message to your gut that something isn’t right. Not your heart. Without a brain, you don’t have a body.

The reason that 2011 was a tough time for me was because I had just moved. Yes, I relocated to various houses around the neighborhood. However…

This time, it was different. Newark is split into five geographical wards. You have the North Ward, the West Ward, the East Ward, the Central Ward, and the South Ward. Allow me to give you a lesson on my hometown.

North—that’s where Branch Brook Park is. If you’re a Newarker, you gotta know what park that is. Home to 4,300 cherry blossom trees in more than fourteen different varieties, it’s a nice park.

Alongside the park, you have some nice homes as well. Those hundred-year-old houses that have been renovated extensively. Forest Hill is a neighborhood in the North Ward where you’ll see those homes.

West—I’m not too familiar with it, but that’s the second dangerous ward next to the South. Also known as Newark’s Vailsburg, you got some nice homes out there too. Still though, watch your back around that way.

East—also known as The Ironbound. This is probably the safest part of town you would want to stay on if you’re new. Stay away from the Riverside Projects and Pennington Court.

You ain’t tryna’ go into Pennington unless you want to leave in a body bag or have all of your shit taken. Besides that, you good. By the Port of Newark and Newark Liberty International Airport (EWR), you’re gonna meet nice people. They got some kick ass restaurants down on Ferry Street too.

You got the Central Ward. That’s the notable part of Newark. The heart of it all. From the Prudential Center to the Newark Museum, this is it. You got all the major stores and big office buildings in this district.

It’s truly something of light. It’s lively in the daytime but once nighttime hits, it’s like Michael Jackson’s Thriller. That’s when all the homeless people come out. You’ll find most of them around Penn Station.

How can I forget the good ol’ South Ward? That’s right. Weequahic, Clinton Hill, Dayton, all that. The South Ward is special to me. Why, you might ask?

I was born in the South. Newark Beth Israel Medical Center is in the South Ward of Newark. I went to school right up the street from the hospital that I was born in. I got some of my family stationed around that area.

I lived in several houses and complexes before 2011 came. First, it was Rose Terrace by Avon Avenue. Woodland Cemetery is also in that area, which is pretty much abandoned and rundown.

I was there probably from the day that I came home from the hospital until 2001-2002. Then, we relocated to Schley Street.

I had vivid memories of that house. My mother worked in a hair salon at the time, so I was there with my grandmother during the day whenever my mother was at work, eating tuna sandwiches and getting in trouble.

I still remember the day that my cousin Aahesan came home from the hospital. This was around the same time that we first moved on Schley. Also… the house was painted red.

There were memories there. Two years later, we moved on Bergen Street. You know when you’re coming across the bridge after that sign that says Welcome to Newark – Weequahic on it, right?

Look to your left and there’s a big ass yellow house that’s across the street from a church. That’s where I once stayed, right on the second floor. I had some great times there too. The Bergen Street Festival was like that back then.

The best part about living around there was whenever the festival came around. One of our uncles would take us all around there early so we could look at everything being set up.

We would also go around to the family house on Stengel to ride our bikes. It’s been a long while since I rode a bike. Hell, I probably forgot how to even ride one. I ain’t good with skates either.

My cousin and I rode our scooters up and down the block. I would see friends from school at the festival and we’d fuck around with each other while our parents were having grown-up conversations.

There was a lot of stuff to purchase at the festival. They had goldfishes, toys, balloons the shape of various cartoon characters such as Scooby-Doo, SpongeBob, and Patrick.

Light-up rings, beaded chains, soul food and party snappers—oh shit. Motherfucking party snappers, yo. When we used to get those, my cousins and I would throw them at each other for shits and giggles.

Times were simpler back then. No beefs. No bullshit. Everyone having the time of a lifetime. You remember this was around 2004-2006. The trend back then were oversized clothes.

You’d see dudes wearing these long ass t-shirts. Man, I swear to god them shits was like a 3XXL. If a dude was skinny, shit would look like a wedding dress on him.

Then, they would have on some jeans or capris, rocking some Air Ones. My favorite song around that time was How We Do by The Game.

There are a lot of other amazing songs that came out during this time, before the likes of these trash fools you hear on the radio. You know who they are by now.

The Bergen Street Festival wasn’t the festival of the year though. There was a carnival in Weequahic Park too, with a lot of rides. There’s this one thing that takes you all the way up and pushes you down fast as fuck.

I got on that and screamed to the top of my lungs. I’m surprised I ain’t piss my pants. There was another ride which was like a Ferris wheel on crack. As the wheel rotated, the seat spun you.

We also went to the beach with our aunt. The beach was the highlight of the summer, I used to enjoy going to the beach. I would always get screamed at because I was hardheaded as hell. I was the dumbass to skinny dip in the ocean. I was lucky to not have a crab pinch my… yeah. You know the word.

What were those summers without family barbecues? We would always have big barbecues at the family house on Stengel Avenue every 4th of July. Stengel is like a few blocks away from Weequahic Park.

What would we do? All the family would come from wherever they were to have a quaint time. We’d relax, get a few laughs in, play the latest jams, you know—come together as a family. We don’t have that anymore.

That family house goes way way way way back. A light green colored house that has stood mighty on 51 Stengel.

You name it—from parties to repassings, we would have it all there. Right in that backyard which is home to mosquitos, flies, raccoons (we found a few dead ones back there) and this official homemade grill that’s been used in all the family cookouts, there’s nothing like 51 Stengel.

I was told that my grandmother and grandfather on my mother’s side moved into that house back in the 1970’s.

After I lived on Bergen, I moved on Shephard into one of those apartments. We were there for about three years until we moved to Clinton Place. I almost forgot. We temporarily lived in the family house at one point. That shit was the worst.

Every night, the smell of marijuana would fill the house. My grandfather stayed getting blasted. Bruh, that man would hotbox the entire living room. Plus, most of the walls were made of wood so…

I bet you see where my pot smoking habit stemmed from. Plus, it wasn’t the most sanitary either. I don’t even want to get started. He had this cat named Jax.

I don’t know where he got him from, but that cat was dirty. He never took no baths or anything. That poor kitty was walking around the house looking like a big ass dust mite.

After Clinton Place, it was 293 Hawthorne. It wasn’t far from where we lived before. Amid our time there, we lived in two apartments.

The first apartment we lived in was 2B. There were two bedrooms. It was okay for the time being until 2011 came around. Then, we moved downstairs to 1F.

I hated that apartment more than anything, to be honest. It was no better than the one we had upstairs. In fact, it was worse. There was no faucet in the kitchen.

That was two weeks of eating takeout and washing dishes in the tub until someone came and put a faucet in. Perks of living in the ghetto, I guess.

It was infested with mice. 2B just had roaches badly. Also, the walls were unpainted, and mold grew. The bedrooms were like chicken coops, they were small. Like, the bedrooms were probably no bigger than the bathrooms.

Even though it was a two bath/three-bedroom apartment;