Renovation
I.
Not a pseudo thug turned rapper,
Or a pseudo rapper turned poet
Nor a pseudo intellectual turned advocate.
Simply a front-running, pack moving, sacrificial mind-molder:
A father with good intentions.
II.
A forgotten piece on a forgotten puzzle,
An onslaught aiming at injustice,
And yet the last of a dying breed.
Mere canvas color,
Combined to make portraits come alive.
I coalesce the abstract painted as truth.
III.
Hope’s emissions seeping through misty window panes
The calluses on homeless feet,
The brunt of Adam’s burdens, the scapegoat for millions.
I am truth evoked through judicial eyes:
“Your sentences will run concurrently!”
IV.
My plight is not one cared for.
As jaundiced as newborn eyes,
I am the renovation!
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