Thursday, July 14, 2011


Inspiration: This book called No Disrespect that I'm readying by Sister Souljah
Word: Strife

Bear bottles dangled-
and cigarette smoke sung,
it was like the slums you see
this scene
haunted me
defiled me
bewildered me.
I desired to be free
from the evil of the people
drowned in such a thing
(Didn't they seek evergreen?)
So chemically oppressed
by the drug
Shrugged in the mess
was their lost happiness
their soul had been at the rest
to avoid the clutter
I even began to stutta
trying to find the words
that could define
Hurt had been engraved-
been chiseled
with the scent of sweaty prostitutes
and white men in suits.
Anit you sick of this?
I'm sick of this!
Pluck the needles and get ride of this
spread like-
looneys given head for a fix,
questionable chicks-
sprung without a daddy
so they hung between lovers and hoes
Cuz mama couldn't afford a rose-
scent to smear the blood
from all the negros
This is what white folk call the hood
black folk get shot and die in the hood.
This is a life
that can only be defined by
a destitute haughty living,

called strife.

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