Poetry · Writing

refugee

fighting away

the urge to fight

just take a flight

find a home

made out of bricks

read about the licks

you missed

in a boat sailing away;

far away

that ain’t very fair

they made you mayor

now they call you traitor

blow your brains out with a lazer

and that wouldn’t phase her

found her drawn in crayons so i traced her

just so i can taste her

later

Poetry · Writing

blood adjacent

these are fine

this place right here

found it on a whim

i call it a win

i call it home

doesn’t matta where you from

you my brotha for life

this one and the next

your wife will be my sista

your husband will be my brotha

this bond is my treasure

this place right here

found it on a whim

i call it a win

i call it home