Featherbed Lane

Who care’s about what barbershops got to say,
When my head is on the line,
I cut deep and watch a lot of you fade away,
With a bar I raise,
Or,
The scars I paint in sentences I’ve been sentenced with…

Incentives rip through the mind of a fiend dependant on the cynics sick!
Of ‘dope’ dreams…
I thought mine were as well
Until I became blunt myself,
And dropped a joint as an ascetic Poet who has prophesied Hell!
On whomever tries to deal me pain for a pot of gold…

I used to let shots unfold!
Drinking like an automatic weapon while grabbing my hip as it,
*Clings!*
*Clings!*
And reload.
On another cup that’ll put me to sleep in another dimension as I,
Keep a piece up close,
To a temple I have viewed as Prey in a past I’ve reviewed too many times…

But,
Nowadays I just let my quills fly!
Above a page imprinted with my wrongs and rights.
Trying to account for all that I do through a poem I am compelled to write,
By the Divine.
Pray in the name of Love,
Since it is all we need to suffice.
Any void we may feel deep inside…

Therefore,
You can show me a different Universe,
Cities on end,
And I still won’t study a broad if our relationship is consciously distant.
You can be a model!
Role play and show me how crazy it can get!
I won’t follow the ways of promiscuous women…

You can be my brother,
Even from another mother!
But,
You will not be able to lace me with ‘Caine while I set the precedent,
Of what a man is supposed be!
Not sheep in the face of a grave where our rights are suspended in,
Anytime we give in to demons who reap joy by causing division within,
Such a beautiful Earth,
So mighty.
Where roses are watered with our tears,
Still growing past concrete…

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