"I sit here waiting for the rain to come. For the reign to pass. For the ebb and flow of things a poet makes into water. I too am always thirsty, never alone. This “we” is silent in a desert of nothings we’ve said. We’re nothing better than what we say. I’m talking about Hip-Hop, our world, the “I” inside of it. It’s time I loved you. It’s time I gave you water." - Vejae, The Order Of Things Born in Los Angeles to West-Indian parents, Vejae was uplifted in an era of latchkeys and Voltron, Reagan and Crips, slipping consciousness and Tupac, The Box, MTV and suburbs like cities. Schooled mostly by family, mentored more by friends, Vejae nurtured his art—the way of his life—to resemble the energy he wanted to see. A Van Nuys street pronounced him alive. An acre in Lancaster articulated his youth, stumbling over tumbleweeds, allergies, gangs moving in. This was home for his first crossover dribble, epiphanies. He is a mirage, an Antiguan son, Tortola’s pride, an American citizen of the World; an islander creating water and reflection in a man-made California. He represents all that. He will be to you all that he has seen and re-imagines. Vejae could speak his love and empowerment better after San Diego. Un-bottling his ideas in Spoken Word and scantrons, he was in protests and parties, Tijuana and learning centers, for “A’s” and “Incompletes”. He received a BA in Human Development from UCSD but had to seek another desert for clarity. A MFA in Writing from CalArts brought credentials and “good” question marks. He is now a college writing professor with lessons to teach and learn for himself. While being about the truth, Vejae pretends to not have a Myspace or that he runs home after lectures to watch Weeds. How does all of this connect to Hip-Hop? Well he was listening to it the entire time; it’s almost everything unsaid, like a heartbeat.