How I Used 2 Write When I Wuz Young Poem by Romella Kitchens

How i Used 2 Write When i Wuz Young
Days wax. Ax the poli-tical in place of the lyrical death row overthrow
five times the wu-tang clang into the metaphysical. Higher ground? Lost
Poets who live in torn out caves of urban life rife with individual & collectives
strife(s) boxed into a segregated SUB-universe... PUSH GROove yet there is a
connected-ness ... R
U not detecting this? B-tween this hemisphere & dat? ...

Deuce Ur ryhmes and flow into it.
PAce the beat Back in 2 a Slower
Afri-caness...
How I Used To Write When I Was Young
Hair wiretrigger what doo U figure? What did i have 2 lose? The mainstream worldnot
yet my native tongue 'cuz of its perpetual separation Frum me. Grades school slam
down, 'Here's yr paper b ack. Thinkmoreacceptibly, not so deceptively, precocious but skilled A-. Grades used 2 define us. Robbins Island of the mind. Is this how my life story so far read to U, then U read it, REd it w/ liar's eyes...See U
may have 'corrected' me but U did not finish me. I will DEFINE ME. Even when U think U do
my certain blues overcome U. Tribute to the tribe dragged here. Spear chucker me 1 time
& I will expotentially scream this at U. U do not own me - only yr atrocities.
Groove deep into the
Disenfranchised back beat, couple of old heads laying down poverty tracks on the refuse lids of the
streets. Even when U think U doo De-fine me, if U re-create me in your social light, there is a connected-ness & U wuz searching for the God Particle, the authentic non-article of already discernment,2.
Old men has beens sit on the tip of their deaths waiting to know the self U keep hiding in yr
acceptance shadows no matter the shade of the skin suit they R in.
No portraits of them on yr WALLS.They have to claim their own His-story. They have to 'see His glory', works of His hands understand, standing until the dust.