Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2019
By:Cedric McClester

Don’t tell me ******
Don’t like chicken, bro
Look at the lengths
To which they will go
For a Popeye’s sandwich
You might get killed, yo
But they’ll wait on line
For one, even so

Don’t tell me ******
Aren’t addicted to chicken
As if it were crack
That was there for the picking
As the Colonel might say
When it’s finger licking
Nothing beats a piece
Of good fried chicken

Don’t tell me ******
Don’t like that yard bird
To even suggest that
Is simply absurd
And popeye’s sandwiches
I know ya heard
Are the best of the bunch
At least that’s the word

Don’t say that ******
Don’t eat chicken on Sunday
They eat other things
If it’s let’s say, a Monday
In fact it’s as common
As is the  gunplay
We hear in the hood
When the cops are away


Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019.  All rights reserved.
Written by
Cedric McClester  New York, New York
(New York, New York)   
86
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems