(UNFINISHED CONVERSATION)
what you mean it cant be
your son dressed in black
Semi Auto in the Backpack.
Burners ,Bombs, stashed in the Basement.
Said he didn’t make any Sense
Never told you where he went.
he tried to talk to you,
Walk with you, blank stare hung in the air.
So he Gave shit up, Cussed shit up
Rolled shit up,
F***ed shit up. Smashed shit up
BLASTED THE FUCK UP
GOT FED UP
Like your son is gonna tell you
what he do
frustrations he going through.
Cant express to you.
you say he has it all
Million dollar home
Vacations, a broad.
what’s he doing when
when moms doing mom?
An Dad a business meeting?..
his Lover holds him gently in her arms.
Twisted into a social Bomb
School psychologists say nothings wrong
tiny respect
BIG pay check
dad always
Pretension, dissention
a Jive ass lie.
one part phony other part no reason why,
water from mamas tears to make a black sky,
Born rich enough to hide behind a dollar sign
Private school for the arts
even though he cant draw for shit.
Varsity Basket ball
no one ever home at all
Reheated pretension
your son aint gone be no Dentist.
no more trying to compete, or please
blues breeds an breathes in Million dollar Homes to..
I use pain to try to get back to what love usta hold on to.
Burnt like lives in a fire,
here but gone a Beaten Soul
through Motions of Desire.
Like an unborn trapped in a womb.
A Nightmare of Abuse.
Dad,,,A Trick who paid with his kids youth.
something about being alone
19 an isolated
don’t know about paying dues,
just know it don’t feel good
Anyone hear me…
Anyone listening to you?….
Did all the Drugs your Generation did to...
found Nothing.
Acid.
coke,
even added Ecstasy
with over proof Jamaican Booze
on a Caribbean Cruise,
Nothing NEW
not even your view
no concept
nothing to connect to.
Masquerading your fakeass politicks like rich white chicks wearing the mask of
starving Africa kids cradling their starvation
belching Corporate international Rape
When it was you all the time Laughing at kids in the sweat shops siphoning oil
No arrests, but I can still smell on your breath…
that made their poverty .. Their wars…
stole people and Culture
an Hid.
Mutha to everyone?
PARENT TO NONE!
your kids are ashamed of DEADLY
lame games
Super power dominate.
Everyone’s laughing at you
Except the same color of ass kissers
That always agree with all and everything
Of nothing
Just talk.
little tragedy
To authenticate.
Strangers your children
Its you they hate
you live with them but you send them away
you hide You hide them
Underestimate them..
Its you they hate
So they seek a new rhyme,
in this time. A place where they don’t have to hide
there culture
Karmas blood it feeds on their youth and Dreams
This country loves to tell others what to do
To light that fuse Kill third world People
expect them to say thank you
so why be shocked
when your son is dressed in Black
with the semi auto in the backpack,
heater in his waste band, Pipe bomb Under his coat no he aint gonna VOTE
Crumpled up note Found in his coat
said: no more sending me away I control Today!
Tired of the lies an endless Preacher.
So I Killed my Teachers
My friends
Myself to
I'd I’m sorry mom an dad…
What good would it do?
that’s why I killed you to
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