From the Belly

There is nothing to do 
So I'll just hang out with you 
And show my name brand stamped 
On my self esteem, that exchanged 
For the brand of iron that cramped 
My scrotum and set us deranged 
Ever since. I am a hip-hop disarray 
Looking through my shades at the girl 
I love but cannot marry. She's produce on display 
And one woman's man, for a one's man girl. 
Some say it is in our genes, but I 
Look and see only history nailed 
And twitiching against the sky. 
All our movements left us in this failed 
System of failures chanting hip-hop 
As if it was Bob Marley's redemption. 
I want to let the cup drop, 
But not to let them know its empty. Emotions 
Does not matter here, only bread 
In the belly of the beast 
We celebrate peace when we bury our dead. 
But imprisoned so long it's hard to accept release
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace