VERSES

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Chapter 1

 

verse 1: DEATH DEATH...

 

Death, death and mo death;

Grand Theft Auto that automatically makes the news.

Happiness is defused and hidden because she ain't telegenic enough to

make the scene.

If you know what I mean then you know what was meant;

when the article was sent straight to yo phone.

What's been stolen is more than transportation;

it's your relation to love and peace that's deceased...each and every time you look at the screen.

 

 verse 2: FEEL LIKE

 

I feel like an elephant, 

behind long bars that people peer through for amusement.

I eat peanuts because that’s what they throw me;

but one day when I’m the main attraction... maybe, 

I’ll change peoples contempt at the gate;

let them see how it feels to pac your derm as much as humanly possible. 

 

For now they only say tisk, tisk... that my tusks are ivory;

and I’m gray from much misery. 

Those tusks put me in a position to fight in a circus 

safari where I never belonged. 

When the tusks fall they are placed unwillingly in museums  

Or what we call today-jail.

verse 3: BLACK PAINT

I wish  I could articulate hate, 

even say how it really, really feels to be black paint trying to dry on_______________ walls.  

Black paint trying to dry on _________________ walls that swear to be pure when they come from me!

 

I’m only drying on them, because this scene is a script not reality.  

It is a comedy, a comedy that I am too culturally biased to know is funny.  

But still I remain of color, because if drying too fast is a sin then the rest of me is already chipping.

verse 4: COMB

I comb with a pen because there’s no need to cut anything, 

but the stringy attitudes lying on the powerful heads of captivity; 

who actually feel superior while acting out of inferior complexes.  

Complex arrests are never made until cardiac waste spills over into tightly wound veins, then it’s in the name of disease they appease sin, for it’s “not their fault” as they tell it. 

 

And so beautiful we stand, in the night, or as poised as the Greek statues tried to be.  

Black as the night with hair that fights not to be straight-conformed for what?  

Curl for the one who wants to stay “au natural” for the duration; 

eyes so deep in the face you'd swear it was sin to stare inside them.

 

But. they. try. in reflection to steal enough energy to graft courage.  

They can’t do it so they skirmish, instead, snatching the birth of art, life and blackness, weaving our strands to fall as theirs stay wet with envy. 

verse 5: OH TO BE

Oh to be young and _______________________;

without the fight of everything in your circumference.

Not a racial blow, I wouldn't want it though;

it being every single fucking thing available to a person--except love, peace and a lack of grief.