Poetry is often associated with
the romantic,
the candle lit,
the girl with flowers in her hair;

And hardly ever with
the silent and passionate,
the mysterious
and brave.

But while it is probably
true
that those who never love
will never write,

Happily ever after
never made that good
of a story.

look  what they done to my freedom ma,it was just here a few minutes ago,but America done stole it away,chains on my neck,wrights and feet every day took the will inside,its enough to drive a grown man insane.look what they done to my freedomma,my silent tears water the dust mixed with red blood,crying from the inward pain. look what they done to my freedom ma, master in charge ***** both daughter and wife,cut my manhood away.all of me is hurting every day,my forbidden voice has no say.if I could just  rest on your ******* for a little while until the long night turns into the golden day.noose around this old life ma-so I can't go astray.look what they done to my freedom ma-done turned me into a slave,my freedom was just here a few minutes ago,but America done stole it away,look what they done to my freedom ma

sitting in the ****** sunlight
pondering **** Jagger
and who’ll inherit his lips when he dies.
smoke chains from my mouth and
Motown comes to mind.
What I Got is a pregnant cat
with cautious green eyes.
what i think i’ll do is wait,
but when will i stop?

i’ve read my calendars
birthed my charts
and i still can’t decide.

wind blows up my shirt
school buses scream by.
Hey, Children, Hi.

my nicoteen teeth burp
and i’m pushing out a cigarette
heading back inside.