Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Dope Dealer

Just wanted to say thanks to all of my readers for being patient for me as I slowly day by day get out of my writing slump and now begin my divorce. I haven't had the motivation to finish or revise the pending novels on my desk. 

My friend told me to write poetry to get my creative juices flowing. It's been helping greatly. I've been working hard to get it together and am hoping to begin novel writing again in the weeks to come. Meanwhile check out one of my favorite poems that I've recently wrote. 


Dope Dealer
(To All Art Hustlers and Feens)

I've always wanted to be a dope dealer!

jeans sagged to my hips
slinging words in the park
People smoking my books
with grabba leaf and then spark

Dope dealer.
taking brains from hood to odd
stealing away letters
making them good to God.

Reading my words
should equate to
holding a cocaine-filled spoon to a flame
smoking rock
sniffing glue
injecting the bloodstream
with my name

and if it's you
the unlucky one
to get hooked on me,
then call your doctors.
They'll recognize the symptoms easily
sore throat, sneezing, coughing, runny nose, and skull fractures
Let's get into the fact of
sisters putting heating pads to relieve chest pains
cause they feel my words deep within their sternums
causing blood to stain
underwear.
At night, 
they sneak out to burn them.

I want my verb choices
to incite
bad decision-making in life
to yank heads out of the box
to bring more pleasure than cock
to inspire murals on ghetto blocks
to birth a new Tupac

to force families to hold interventions
tears spilling from eyes
with good intentions
because
they don't get why their son is now rocking dreadlocks
and saying that the government lies
and
how he's traveling in my drug-induced reality
with shook fists,
numb skin,
but open eyes.

I want to be a Boss!

poetic gangster
killing them
from Black to Hindu.
I'm about to start literary beefs
like bloods and crips do,
splicing commas
and then
continue
to brainstorm
and
rape the norm.

and when it's all done. . .

I want my words to be sentenced
to 25 years to life
so that after my death
my rhymes are flashlights through others' strife.

I want my words to be a person's 
first drug,
first orgasm
first love
I want my name
in a book labeled presenting the Best of. . .

6 comments:

  1. I really enjoyed that poem, and I am not one to actually like poetry. Great job!!! (I am hoping some of the writing you are doing includes the Santeria Habitat, because that is my crack, dope dealer)

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    1. lmao!! Yes Flaming Tongues is being worked on now. :-)

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  2. I now how you feel Kenya I'm in that same mode too. You will get your creative juices flowing again. I like the poem I use to write a lot about what I was going through so I did a compilation and published a book under a pen name. So keep all your poems you might want to put them in a book one day.

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    1. I would love to know the name of that poetry book you wrote, buy it, and read it. Post a link if you can.

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  3. Goddamn, loved that poem Kenya! You may be in a slump with novel writing, and understandably so, but you definitely still got your mojo for poetry. Without doubt, you're one of my dope dealers right now, I'm totally hooked into your Coventon Campus series and Crazy in Love too, so keep at it girl, you're a true talent!

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    Replies
    1. THANKS SO MUCH! I'm writing the final Coventon Campus now.

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