"utica" poems
for Denim McLein
The car had jumped the curb at speed,
it was gray and dull and 2 foot high.
On Thursday, 12 men with guns on their thighs
took notes and talked and looked around and choked.
Tears fell from 24 eyes on Friday at the station,
for a 3 year old was mowed down in a moment
of miscalculation.
The 18:45 four-door sedan has blood
on its hands.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 1:26 PM UTC
I got that Fulton shackles and that Manhattan price
I stayed lucky on Utica Ave with those Brooklyn dice
Then Hopping on the train to get where I'm going
My mind is on my eternity but I'm stuck in this New York moment
It's my jungle gym, New York I made my marks
You got me ready for the world even when I didn't no where to start
You birth me , made me stronger
As I continue to grow, concrete food you made me live longer
I wrote my name on you , gain my fame from you
I made a ugly vision perfect , isn't that what a Yankee suppose to do
In New York there's pain so we cover it in art
And the world think they know our story's from the movies but they never played the part
I've driven the blocks
I've road the trains
I've Heard the shots
And I no what the out come has contain
Up in the clouds and in my mind
I'll see Jordan and Air ones kicks
Hanging in the sky
And my mama use to whoop my *** if I didn't have those shoe laces tied
But when It rains it pours in my city
That's not precipitation , that's tears from mothers who son died in my city
They say the puddle shows reflection of the hardship we learn from the gutters
We fall as rain fall but some how New York we lean on each other
And fiends was fiendin from the same stoop my belly was fiendin for food
But My mother did her best , while my sister Kept it cool
But still this is my influence, this is who raised me
They say if you enter New York world your better be born crazy
They say you can win anywhere if you win here
And you ain't been nowhere if you ain't been here
Same places , Same face on the train mane ,
New York New York
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 9:06 AM UTC