The DedPoet
The DedPoet
Nov 13, 2014

He shoots up to come down,
He fell to Earth
             And became my friend.

He is that nature,
         That fiery nature
That comes in the ghetto.
      He killed for me,
He stabbed for me,
      He saved my life.

And the sun does not speak to him,
Though I see the blood moon
       In his eyes.
He speaks no language,
       He is not bound by society,
And he knows the filth of men
       Because he knows himself.

He enters a blackhole
         Through the eye of a needle.
And we all pay for our sins,
         As did his children.
His son has one hand smaller
         Than the other.
His daughter has cerebral palsy.
        Because he and his wife used,
His children also used.

And the lyrics write themselves:
     The slow song of heroin,
That ignorant abyss,
       The brownstone
Escaping all this illusion.

He is the hardest working man I know,
     He is also the most brilliant.
Heroin be his escape,
      Feeding his habit
As well as he feeds
       His children.
Heroin is a demon,
       His demon is his friend,
The true enemy lies
       In the reflection.

And the mirror is perception,
      One mind in all things,
For a universal mind.
      Enemy of his enemy is
His only friend.
      
    I often wish he could find
The beauty in life
     As he finds in that
Black tar he puts in his vein.

Let a truth come forth:
    He is the best man I know,
He is the worst of men.
       He is truth in action
Living both sides of the poetry.
        Life is the eye
Of a needle,
       I would see him enter here
Knowing his true reflection.
       And I know heroin is not his problem,
Which is why I still take him
       To score.
I understand if you dont.

*Zippit homeboy or I'm shovin my iambic-foot up ur ass.
βέƦẙḽ Dṏṽ the Smartass Rabbi

Zippit homeboy or I'm shovin my iambic-foot up ur ass.

Iambic pentameter
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iambic_pentameter
.
Next to mr. homeboy
Sarah Ashby
Sarah Ashby
Aug 4, 2011

The DOT: Where dreams go to die
And people go to wait in line
Sit in plastic chairs for hours
Next to mr. homeboy
And some chick that never showers

I'd like to finish this poem,
But they just called my number

Peace out, Bitches.

Took my brother to the DOT and got bored. This place will drive you crazy. Hence "Peace out."
Homeboy was sure of his assurance
James Brian Ker
Feb 24, 2013

Home boy thought he was a killer
Kept a necklace round his neck

In a villa near manila
A strange accurance
Small body found dead
Little homey died underneath the currents

Homeboy was sure of his assurance
A good swimmer
His name was probably Laurence

He was just a few feet from shore,
When this Alligator about six feet or four,

His eyes went wide, bug eyed and crazy
This is when it all got a little hazy

 
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