not a rappers delight

just trying to get my line tight

sharpening my forethought

meditating to get my mind right

willing to fast for freedom

brothers sitting on time

and I’m wishing my writing could free them

wishing the lighting could see them/ more

hoping my thoughts become before

we be claiming sets but

there be no return through that door

prelude the beginning

suffering mass incarcerations

but some claiming we winning

writing for half glasses

writing for love of the masses

we be scribbling freedom on pages

but can’t pass classes

still divorcing self of who I used to be

feeling the sun, letting the energy breed new to me

trying to have my heaven here on earth

repeating names of ancestors

cause this concrete hurt

banging on buckets

we still on the run

we still breaking north

like it was written in the drums

poetry for penitentiaries

suffering of centuries

they Trayonning our kids

we need sojourner truth ministries

the breakaways ain’t to baskets

we on riverbanks and in attics

writing theses that read like illmatic

my sketches still be post-traumatic