1900
& when Pusha said,
“The toothless crackhead was the mascot,”
& that’s all it took for him to get his 40 acres,
it was more than just a bar.
It been the vision of circumstances that kept Me pushing.
&, i recognize the beautiful,
yet disrespectful balance of life.
Similar circumstances pushed the pusher.
But, who claims the guilt of My brother’s nightmares?
Who coddles the baby girl destined for a future fix?
Who raises the man from boy whose roots caved in to obsession?
Overdosed on thoughts channeling the grand mother,
same who dozed off them grand wonders,
i wonder.
How i could cope with them same gestures?
Heart broken before the first breath,
i cope with addictions that lead the blind.
Same whose natural thoughts scream to a freedom they can’t grasp.
Shoulders ask Me,
“42 grams for 40 acres or 0.4 grams for 40 dollars,”
i wonder...
~m.n.i.w
