High Beams

when I was young I use to see things

mama use to tell me don’t tell stories

stop fantasizing don’t hum no harmonizing

she took the stars from my sky

spit wiped the gleam from my eyes

in arts and crafts trying to get back my craft

it was hard to be creative even if I tried

lord knows I cried though I found relief

in the thought of suicide

 my best course of action was to stay alive

people use to think I was all shuck and jive

until I started to spit off the top timing

my bars with a stop watch I had to find refuge

with a poet inside and an artist to hide

going down the highway your thumbs out

going my way I’m in the danger zone

no child’s play salt and pepper it’s my season

on the down low high treason about to

do this again by the felt of my pen

you’ll feel impelled by the time I get to the end

the final nail made me scream thank God

it was a dream now she’s ringing my phone

knocking on my door like a dope fiend

should I let her in or should I let her fall

change my number and just let her call

no longer under her jurisdiction making

my own decisions I’m going for it all