Archive for the 'The Rhyme Room' Category

Ballad of the Blunted Boy

I got my Masters in Dutch and a Bachelor’s in Swisher

Graduate Hard Knocks by the Narrowest Slither

I’m Smart But Not the Flashiest Nigga and once I learn lessons

Class dismissed 

A Homerun Hitter no asterisk; though you try dealing your fastest pitch

When Last I quit, I can’t recall proper

Scalded lungs pass the spliff poured Vodka I am neither man

Nor monster; won’t deny I have a sore spot for 

classy chicks

I’m aloof like the shower sponge, crass emit a sour tongue 

Amass my riches outta slums; jousting with guns is such a downer

One dollar does not a dream make; Gun Powder to prop extreme statesmen


But —


No bwoy nah guh test me yo

We posture ’cause it’s the best we know

I’m the poet-emcee’s wet dream though

‘specially blowed off the best weed, cho!

slipped inside the vestry door 

forget priests I got some questions


Dear father, does my ambition beget greed?

A balladeer 

I asked him cavalierly

I’m strong in my heart

My feet are rather weary 

What sign of the weak

that I splatter theories so loud

the people have to hear me


The youths are misguided 

we split sides spit fire piss iron

the best of us tip tides amidst liars

but after our time 

we git tired


I wanna 

collect bitches like figurines 

walk o’er floods to kick a breeze 

smoke more buds with thicker leaves 

Stalk tall funds like nigga please 

Feel familiar like six degrees 

The treasure is in the mysteries


Are these

Men or monsters

reading from teleprompters?


(per my advice 

you better watch)


Mind parables that ignore your children

And demagogues who war for scores 

Hording billions 


I used to hate but now I sorta feel ‘im 

I realize now that we was buildin’


That Gen. T-SO got me right mah nig…

The Genteel Oath To Life Unlived 

I spell dawg with an A-W

The first and last letters of my name trouble you 

I taint love the way lovers do 

Plus got flow like rain puddles 

We gain through struggle so who could say I ain’t true?


Poetry for Part-Timers

poetry for part-timers

If I had the courage I’d

Finish with a dramatic flourish

But I’d crash land with data

from the NASA shuttle

backed by brass band and

wearing brass knuckles

We had love but I stuffed it

in my trash bucket — moved on

clasped my buckle

Your strangelove strained doves

meet me with a pained touch

I unremember days rushed

Because the blade cuts where

the words stung

your spurned tongue hung a dirge on me

so I hurry on ’cause other girls love me

all the girls love me (?)

You sung gunpowder with your unbound attacks

Somehow you taxed from my Alpha

what happens when the hope runs out the door

lump in my throat cut from that cloth

but you spun out the spool

I am not marked bitterness a smart nigger is

never fazed by sharp criticism

so this time is that time snapped spinal

final lap over a cracked vinyl my hands tied

around that zephyr of a recollect

I found that letter that you sent

did I mention it had been discarded

a few cards short of a deck

some cards reshuffled

for effect

so no dramatic flourish you had it coming

you had it bludgeoned to death long ago

and it would be without this song I wrote

Live from Drew’s Rhyme Room

I wrote this as a dedication to “AWL my haterz”, to use the internet parlance.

  My Sheeey-it