with my minds-eye
birds-eye beady on the screen
looking for what it is I mean
when I say ‘I know’
I know what it is you do
there on the backroom stairs
not even in the room
you’re scheming cooking up deals
and shafting the rest of us
death by kebab skewered sliced
life ain’t nice
but you still pretend
(you will to the end)
I know what’s wrong
the straight lines are bending
like you in the wind
a bit of leeway wiggle-room
while we faceless fools
wriggle-on-the-hook
caught in the trap
of being here not there
out not in on the wrong side
of your particular
t r a c k s
even our footprints
are the trail we leave
for you to track us back
I know what’s going on
behind closed doors
under lock and key
not for these hands to turn
no no no
you want
to keep the flow
the money flow
the power-flow
our heat up your chimney
you breathing in all the air
and we suffocating
at the feet of masters who say
we’re no masters
you got that wrong dude
now get back to where the sun
only shines on righteous
folks like us
An emulation. An echo. Saw a post on PoetryUK a couple of days ago. A Rapper/Songwriter/Poet/Dancer/Music Producer… name of Zo-Alonzo Gross. It was very much in the rap-spoken-word-performance vein. I liked it and posted as such.
But then…
I couldn’t resist so I posted this. I know, aged peely-wally Scotsman swapping rap with an American of African extraction, what’s that about. Still I got a nod back so, OK.
You can find zO here - https://www.thepoetmagazine.org/alonzo-zo-gross - if your into that stuff. Deserves the name-check.
looking for what it is I mean
when I say ‘I know’
I know what it is you do
there on the backroom stairs
not even in the room
you’re scheming cooking up deals
and shafting the rest of us
death by kebab skewered sliced
life ain’t nice
but you still pretend
(you will to the end)
I know what’s wrong
the straight lines are bending
like you in the wind
a bit of leeway wiggle-room
while we faceless fools
wriggle-on-the-hook
caught in the trap
of being here not there
out not in on the wrong side
of your particular
t r a c k s
even our footprints
are the trail we leave
for you to track us back
I know what’s going on
behind closed doors
under lock and key
not for these hands to turn
no no no
you want
to keep the flow
the money flow
the power-flow
our heat up your chimney
you breathing in all the air
and we suffocating
at the feet of masters who say
we’re no masters
you got that wrong dude
now get back to where the sun
only shines on righteous
folks like us
© BH, 2020
An emulation. An echo. Saw a post on PoetryUK a couple of days ago. A Rapper/Songwriter/Poet/Dancer/Music Producer… name of Zo-Alonzo Gross. It was very much in the rap-spoken-word-performance vein. I liked it and posted as such.
But then…
I couldn’t resist so I posted this. I know, aged peely-wally Scotsman swapping rap with an American of African extraction, what’s that about. Still I got a nod back so, OK.
You can find zO here - https://www.thepoetmagazine.org/alonzo-zo-gross - if your into that stuff. Deserves the name-check.
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