Black folks so afraid to admit that they afraid
Oxymoron;
Contradiction
We don’t pay attention
I’m afraid that if I get passionate
Will they put a price tag on my ass?
My frustration put a hole in the glass
Two dents in my wall
If these walls could talk
They’d start singing lullabies for the nights I lost sleep
PTSD from the day they called backup just for me
I had scars on my neck
I had a slash down my back
I looked like Dred Scott in court under attack
If my passion gets ahead of me
Will they start beheading me?
I was 17 still thinking bout my legacy
Word to Stevie Wonder I don’t know what’s ahead of me
Black folks swear to God they ain’t afraid
Contradiction;
Oxymoron
The first time I seen a gun drawn
Was sitting in the passenger seat
Couldn’t wrap my mind around where the hell I could be
My momma prolly hate me
She met my pops through poetry
Now look at me—
Every time I write is when you start to notice me
I used to live with her back when I was songwriting
Now I’m breaking down the stanzas talking ’bout Joe Biden
I had to switch it up
My mind was on the move like vehicular
I didn’t wanna be a rapper
Nah, too particular
My momma prolly hate me cause im doing the same
The only difference is I got the same face, different name
My pops poetry ain’t shifting like the way mine’s will
My rhyme schemes gon’ blow minds like the way mine’s will
I made a name for myself—
If I have too much passion
Will the world use aggression for reaction?
Or put a price tag on my ass?
Capitalize and use my lines for hashtags
I can’t compromise myself
Cause that’s all that I got.
911 ain’t gon save me
We get killed by the cops
Baltimore Beat publishes poems from participants in the group Writers in Baltimore Schools, which offers programming that builds skills in literacy and communication while creating a community of support for young writers.