A poets dying wish

 

 

Let me be recognized for something

Something other than the hue of my skin

And slick talking swaying hips

Swinging to Latino rhythms beating out of your

Big bass speakers and high minded tweeters

 

Let me be known for my eloquence of speech

And not the sneakers I wear or the weave of my hair

Or anything that relates me to this urban mess

That your image gods have created

 

Let me be known for breaking chains

Of those in pain, and the soothing balm

I place on cuts running along your veins,

engraved on galvanized skin

Soaked like rasins in rum in Indian sun

And buttery ointment from lush

Or stores of that beautifying nature

 

Let me be known for doing something well

Whilst you block my paths, never recognizing

My potential from my youth, through my teens

To the grand old age of 46…I’ve paid my dues you know

So show me some love and a little bit of money

 

Let me show you my heart on my sleeve

My gewa da viev my pearl in the harbor

From an oysters claw….let me show you some more

Of what I have in store

For your dome from this floor

Me you choose to ignore

But im back once more

Like arnie in a sequel im breaking down your empirical doors

Or like a musical sequence from the 80s

I'm back once again

So you gonna shut up and let me in?

 

let me show you how I can shine

Without a back drop of lime through words that rhyme

On pages of parchment and spider’s silk

With metaphors of a more refined and superior nature

 

Let me tell you of my story of woe

Beginning years ago where no one knows,

And angels don’t go, on streets paved with shit

Where was promised gold, in a damp bedsit

With no proper clothes down there on sparkenhoe st

 

Where for night time entertainment

Street workers would walk ghetto pavements

Swigging diamond white for their ailments

Trying desperately to get a score

So they could powder their red raw noses

 

Let me tell you of the times I had to beg

And recite words in my head

And live like the walking dead

Because my dad was an irresponsible nobody

And all he did was curse me

 

Thrown out in city streets

I’d have to hustle to eat

And to make ends meet

Sell an ounce or manically street preach

With no shoes on my feet

About how bad was my plight

In mean streets where no one cared

If you lived or died and to stay alive

Some sold even more that children and wives

Makes me want to holler

That’s where I’ve been and coming from

 

 

So next time I do something well

Pat me on the back and say geez that was swell

Not a preacher on the corner says you’re going to hell

Because I perform in a secular arena

 

To hell with that negative behavior

As one man or woman said

It takes a genius to be creative

But any one can be a critic

So eliminate that bad karma

And encourage my personal endeavor.

So that I can be someone my mother or the creator

Can say there’s my beloved son

Well done your words are upright

And your integrity nurtures.