"But let me tune you the live about life's simulation,
that assimilates one's worth. Poetry's code isn't of ones
and zeroes, but of all lines and words"
Says the wit of a coloured oan wanting to chuff the girls

It's all about the honeys, and maybe some sweet
success of hustling for a little extra money

Taking a stand on every stanza, I grew up to different standards
Unlike the hood rapper clutching the 48 hammer,
I was taught in my hood how to hold a 48 spanner
I have my odds in odes; every heavy breath in each
coma—not so common
Given the stereotype of dealing and robbing
To steal your stereo if the right type,
and best to drive with caution

A dark skinned coloured
fitting in with the blacks by appearance
Accents do tend to change ears intently hearing
Whites think I'm that way out of a private school fashion
But I did at times hang out with the wrong crowd,
at times on weekends smoking **** and relaxing

And yes I'm actually coloured; to those of you asking
Hit you with a "hey what's up, what's happening"
Don't mind me asking questions with this sort of coloured accent
"Yoo what's the story," we start our conversations
in the morning. A different kind of breed Godsent

I don't force how I speak
But if it disturbs the peace
I'll change my tone of speech
And find solace in writing another poetry piece

                                            @the Coloured poet