Sag my corpse
in 32 degree weather
through the city of God
where paraplegics dream of running.
“Oh Rhodesian mercenary,”
humble my soul again
like in C(hi)(ca)ongo.
But remember
The revolution starts
on my mama’s bed
at half past six.

So excuse me while I smoke my drink like a Brooklyn Leftist from the 40’s tramples
burning cigarettes on cold pavements where codeine and Sprite
make any Tuesday fabulous because we already suffered from (and for) the goods of mankind.
But before you read me the history of Hatchepsut;
I learned the art of man within the confines of FCC regulations after my ‘Pa threw ******* out the window and made life in the cell not mundane by telephoning philosophical-entendres    
that tomorrow never happened.

He too was from the blood of the ancestors whose bodies were charred on as goods—
whose children now char their bodies with the goods of the goddess of Victory—
the official trademark for the lost Exodus—the blood and blue moribund—
sagging pyrrhic victories in 32 degree weather as homage to their charred ghost (fore)fathers
who preyed to the city of God for bread

there is this boy
and he is
very black
and very muscular
and
he could easily
overpower me
and he thinks my
legs
are
nice
and my dad would
crap his pants
if he ever saw him near me
because dad is still scared
of black people

there is this boy
he is very white
and a little dorky
but i like the way
his face
makes funny eyebrow smiles
he never
leaves
me
alone
and dad wouldn't care
if he was with me
because this boy is too scared
to do
anything

there is this boy
that is really more like a man
and he drives a jeep
and fishes a lot
and takes pictures
and draws on his ipad
and he's kind of a ****
but he told me i'm spunky
and that i make him smile
and that he
likes me
i was glad
to make him
smile
dad would probably
be
his best
friend

there is this boy
who i thought was really big on jesus
but it turns out he wanted to take me into a walk in freezer
pour chocolate on me
and lick it off
i liked him because i thought he was nice
but he wanted me
to
lick
his
fingers
and other things
too
i said
no
dad would
shoot him

there is this boy
that plays the trumpet
and has a receding hairline
but he's only like
twenty two
and he
likes to find my face
and smile at me
because he wants to know
if i'll smile
back
he wanted to give me
a massage
and a long hug
i wish he would
tell me
he liked me
so maybe we could be
together
dad would
think he was
the marrying type

there is this boy
who likes to tell me what he's wearing
which is usually silky underwear
blue ones
red ones
sometimes
none
the first night i knew him
he sent me a picture
of his ***
it was really
white
he wants to
draw a bath for me
and watch me
in the bubbles
he tells me
i can touch him
anywhere
i want
he'll touch me
too
dad would skin him
after
he shot him

there is this boy
who is high
or drunk
24/7
he makes me watch awful scary movies
he is silly
playful
he
loves
me
but he is in
california
and he only loves me
as a friend
he wants a blonde
not a redhead
and that is ok
we would be too much for this world
if we were together
anyway
dad would
hate
him

this boy
is so very muscular
and handsome
and sweet
and so very
african
he thinks
jesus brought us together
and he likes my body
just the way it is
he doesn't try to
change anything
about me
my dad would hate him
not because dad's racist
but just because he thinks black men
are rapists
(maybe that DOES make him racist...?)
but then again
dad hates all boys
that like his daughters
i don't know
i feel happy
but too many things
make me smile
i can never be sure
if they're worth something

untangle your limbs
from the odd position
you wake up in
comb your fingers
through your knotted, ginger hair
streeetttchhhhh.
sit up,
look out the window
see if it's a nice enough day
to keep breathing for
hm.
maybe it is.
think about libraries
and walks to rivers
but mostly about
scrubbing off
the dried mascara
on your face
smile.
right there and then.
only because someone told you
that if you smiled enough
it would make you happy.
like magic.
try not to remember
the empty room
next door
and the stop-motion
perfume
on her vanity
realize that this is only
day one...
smile
gone

Life passes through when im hear with out you,
I'm on a totaly different side beyond the out,
hearin all the ghetto my new ***** gotta dead bro,
I've bin with all these red rags mind graffiti sketched tags,
So I miss my girl my sister,
My story tellin listener
my main true,
my blessed  boo,
seen my life she has the real clue,
when I got hit right there stuck wit me,
step dad did uncalled for beatin, cant help me gettin eatin
when we got caught callit go book free,
played a role got your back,
look forward. erased the wack.
no mom,
I gotta stoney,
didn't lisson always roming,
growin with my one friend never was a loney
one two I got you,
three four I'm out the door
five six, new home cant fix,
seven eight, I lost my great,      (hailey)
nine ten, I'll be home when?.
when I got In foster so close I could of lost her
your my completion I'm your creation,..
ying to the yang
the big,
the loud,
The shoot the bang.
we never for the reppin but we ain't afraid to steppin,
got our own gang ,
me and hailey togetha daily,
our name no shame same heart from thee start
aimin for big,
bullseye I'm the dart
walk our own way,
head up with no say,
got my noes in the sky cause you know I be high,.
finger In the air for the ******* that stare,
why the ******* stalkin?,
cause you scared to be talkin,...
make out my way before i get cray
best get to walkin before I get sockin.
               whatever I'm a youngin,
I'm blessed that I hung in,