Book Summary!

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Welcome to Hunts Point, New York City. They called it the Point, a small neighborhood in the South Bronx. Known for its red lights district, violence and poverty, Hunt’s Point is a tough place to survive. 
Spiro Tobick and his sister Sephrina were born during the crack epidemic to two homeless addicts. Eventually addiction took its toll on them and after their parents disappeared Spiro was forced to take responsibility before he was even thirteen.
The streets were no match for Spiro’s desire and ambitions to allow his sister to be as comfortable as possible. He sold candy on the subway, stole from stores and sold weed during the day and then cleaned up chop shops, ran errands for prostitutes and worked in trap houses at night. 
Spiro did all he could to protect his sister, but eventually they were caught and sent through Foster Care. After years of being tortured by their Foster Father and ravaged by the system their cries are heard and their Uncle adopts them. 
Ten years later, tension reaches its peak in the relationship between Spiro and Sephrina and she departs on a Heroin binge. Worried sick, Spiro accepts a deadly task from his Uncle who is the boss of Hunts Point’s major crime syndicate. Spiro realizes this would advance his request to get a job in Manhattan away from Hunts Point. Spiro tries aimlessly to get away but the past wouldn’t let him go. 
With a heart simmering with guilt and memories of a painful past, Spiro searches for answers and his sister, finding so much more in the process. With so much to lose, will Spiro balance his life without losing himself? Will he fall to deep in the process? Or will Sephrina become yet another victim of the promises of the city?

Beautiful Girl

When I was losing stars in the night I wished the sky to be blue

But,

As I drowned in all this holy water, all I could think of was you

This is the beginning; I overcame a time when glimpses of sun were to few

And I believe in you and everything because you are so true

As a new rose grows, I want to take your hand, run and not even stop for the sun

Our hearts pacing,

Because I want life to not matter at all, the seconds and minutes pass one by one

You’re blinding, that I want to fast forward to new times and then go back and live in rewind

Because you are one of a kind

Auttimn, I was waiting for the clouds to pass over, but now I’m going to read this poem aloud

Something so blue, and now all that’s on my mind is you

I stare into your eyes to the sound of a melody, because your grace is the symphony

To say what exactly that it meant to me, to pass along transcending dimensions to create a better entity

The seasons were there to take care, and then summer past and autumn came to appear

Look in the mirror and you’re a dazzling dancer in the question of life, in which you are the answer

To a life worth living, I’ve been parading around the old past looking for pain to be forgiven

A life worth living

And,

I can’t wait until tomorrow to give her my heart with giving

You were the stars from the start, and just like trouble times each night the sun departs

And the night tends but the day restarts, and you are

Imagination compared to sorrow, it’s the fact that if I’ll go slow so WE CAN BE TOMORROW

It’s the clouds they hold you my dear, so if I should wipe a tear or listen to you as you conquer each fear, I want you to know I sign all my poems sincere

I was caught in the sea battling me; doorway to the future is entry I can’t see

I kept fishing under the moon, they told me to be patient and that my catch wouldn’t come so soon

Turns out, it went past June, and I would walk around Sovereign park, when the light shined upon couples and gloom complimented the dark

I knew nothing about girls, until I met this pearl

In one day I stared and my life became a swirl

Next week I had to be dreaming, but this scene and this conflict I was fleeing

I realized it was the most beautiful girl in my world that I was seeing

In her beauty I was believing, and as I stared with wondrous eyes

My chest began to curl because,

I’m so fond of this beautiful girl

For Auttimn :))

GRAND

I preached unforgiving winters, wrote hot summers, plunged the shit down the pipes with conservative effort like Joe the Plumber. With an enlightened rage, i divided my page, multiplied the masses to the sum of all fears. Extracted every last tear, i bled out from my eyes, with the elegance of a oligarch and a nerd, simplifying the smarts to create a vocabulary thats never been heard. Im not supreme but i aim when i spit, my critics really arent shit, with their insults i hydrate my wit.

Im the prodigal son with cardiac detention, content with evolution as i smoke your dreams in mid air suspension. I may not have as much as you, but I breath, reconstruct and swerve with an audacity and ill die with my Strawberry Grandin Crew. My critics can half step, but they are an improper fraction, and i observe your rhetoric on a table of decimals, because you arent whole. Enjoy your lifeless cornish hen, antics are rotten, i mutilated your life with my four hundred dollar pen.

Grand is a conglomerate, compared to lost souls, ill pen a revolution to destroy motherfuckers with seperate goals. Searching for Gold, fiery with mean heat with intent to turn my self doubt into mincemeat. You are alive when you do something dangerous, I wrapped my aunts scarf around my hand, synthesized the sun with ink when i took the name of Grandin. I wrote this poem, and i felt so much pride. Lets unleash our fury and break stuff. I know when times had gotten rough, the loudest bird had a time when he wasnt tough enough. You are half as raw, drenched in fake grit, count my cuts and then my jewellery before i smash your jaw. Gold bracelet, we’re the new nation, you need to face it. We will cook, brew and bake delicious dishes with an aroma that smells so strong of success that i taste it. We didnt get here from slacking, Laura, Chris and I didnt live a perfect life, we created art from the dark nights full of tears and fears. This is Grand, on the count of three we stand, and run a marathon on the road to success. So ill go with good to great, Look me in the eyes, the field is dialated, so do you think you could knock me down and seal my fate?

WordSmith

Writers block is an affliction, i voyaged downstream to conflict my addiction. I dropped it like a bad habit, i blended animation with reality like Roger Rabbit, then threw in animosity to be emphatic. The writers block kept me in a straightjacket, humming a tune. He’d feed me once in a blue moon.

So i sat in the corner, creating a masterpiece in my head. The block struck my idea dead, and i cried for hours, i heard the ringing of the aecidic showers. The depressed apologist in the shadow of a high tower. I saw no flowers, or any beauty, my brain fought back but the block forced mutiny. I observed the waves of social regimes, i watched as the upper echelon prowled. I handled my heart by my spirit growled. It was time to write, Die or Fight. Take these clouds to an ominous sight. and build narrative around pure spite. Sprinkle the future with seeds, i wanted to watch something grow while my spirit fed upon the poetic dictator. A caniving self induced player hater.

So i built and i planned, the drive of fire never left my hand. The chains hurt my gaunt leg, that night was the worse because i was forced to plead and beg. Who the fuck said life was easy, the difficulty level continued to rise enough to make any punk queasy. I was born a wordsmith, assassinating every obstacle with my whimsical gift. This was my honor, my pain, and glory. I weave hate and love into a beautiful story, with a cruel end. As the world crumbles, ill leave my live to send.

It was sunrise and i opened my tired eyes. The sun shined a light on my fears, on the tears of a lost and dying soul. But my grandma taught not to listen to bullshit, so i tore off my ear. I was covered in blood, warmed my motivation of a savage improvisation. Its mud before the trophy above, the war came before the flock of doves. I pulled my leg from the chain, gradually leaving behind a past that was so bleak. Im Grandin, minutes, hours, days passed by i stand by my crash landing.

I was gone, the prison walls were burnt with my prototype heart. I had my armor and my pen, motherfucker Im ready to start. I wrote a symphony, comprised of jubilant lyrics and a falsetto heretic. I created an entity, my name is Grand in nature, so just call me the Brotha man. I had an epiphany, I love you, you love me, this world evolves, everyday there is more to see. I visited guilt’s grave while keeping every sweet memory I could save. Writers Block had an upper hand, Yo, im ambidextrous. This is a Statement