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Cedric McClester May 2015
By: Cedric McClester

I don’t think you actually understand
I’m from Bodymore, Murderland
Where crime is rampart and has the upper hand
And you can be killed upon demand
Drugs and bodies are all over the streets
But there’s no wire that defeats
This sad situation just repeats
Among poor people that one meets

We’re routinely profiled by the police
Who treat us as if we're savage beasts
We don’t have justice nor any peace
And that’s to say the very least
Our lives are very precarious
So pardon me if I occasionally cuss
Lucky you don’t have to live like us’
We're here today and gone like dust

It ain’t easy living on the bottom
Name your poisons and you know we got’em
Lost a loved one. someone probably shot him
The suspected police, I’m glad they caught ‘em
Yeah, things have gotten tragically out of hand
I’m not kickin’ either dirt or sand
I'm just talkin' 'bour Bodymore, Murderland
Even though you know that I can

Before the riot we were ignored
No one cared you can rest assured
Now they’re sayin,’ Oh my Lord
Even the White House is aboard
I guess we had to raise a ruckus
To get all eyes focused on us
Will they make changes, you know they must
They can't expect us to believe and trust



© Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
Bodymore, Murderland is how people in the hood refer to Baltimore, Maryland.
Amy Grindhouse Jun 2015
This bitter endgame theory
is the remnant of us
tightly clutched in a loose collection
of dulled hidden blades I kept in
empty sugar pill bottles
for moments such as these
My shallow breath slowing
showing
nothing left but hesitation marks manifesto readings
to stave off never lasting mob stompers
losing control of thought criminal empires
All is lost with wounds swabbed in hopes of growing cultures
not inundated by murderland vultures
cackling that doomsday clock apocalyptic-talk
as they pick apart failed crop circles
The past is in the past but remains so tense
as you stand revolted by wretched plans
while wrenching cold calculating razors from my hand
because being allowed to touch seemed so unattainable to me
in the first place
and now that you're gone
I
am
so
scar struck.

— The End —