God Read's Poetry

My ear buds blast stories of guns & glory. And my shoe strings are double dutch ropes waiting for me to jump about
35, 40, 45, 50, 55, 60 of your minds into this world I call poetry.

Tap your wrist and inject my stanzas into your blood streams, just like this heroin you'll never come down from this.

But trust me, this is something like the weekend; you'll want to be high for this. So inhale my flow and get high off this.

My neighborhood is infested with gangs ad rivals that get bible scriptures tattooed onto their inner thighs, but would never dare to live by the saying "You reap what you sow"

Then act all surprised when their nose down to the concrete with bullets blasting their backs like they're the sound tracks to our lives.

Then they don't understand why educated mother fuckers don't come back to the hood. It's cause we're tired of listening to the same old tracks.
If it ain't old Lenny Kravitz eight-Tracks ain't no need to play the crap back.

From my little girl eyes you were never ready to be jumped into this gang. So instead of writing poetry you pulled up your hoody, rolled deep with your homies to the hood CLIK CLACK, ready to kill a Nigga.

And you got the audacity to get mad when the KKK pull up they hoods ready to kill a Nigga.

You reap what you sow right?

Now, this is a life you can't just tap out of. Poetry is the urge to do good things.

Poetry can make a grown man feel like a kid again.

Poetry can redefine an entire being.

So when I say I'm going to "get high" tonight, I mean I'm going to make the edges of pages curl, I'm going to make my ink pen feel like its sinning because its lusting for the lines of my notebook.

These lines don't lie for NOBODY.

Every day I inject my blood stream with words that whisper in Jesus ear asking for second chances like thieves and murders of men that hung on two crosses beside him.

"Will you remember me when you get to your kingdom?"

You better hope that Gods ear buds don't blast loud stories of guns & glory, too loud to hear your prayers.

Much like yours were when he asked you did you accept him into your life. Instead you should have written poetry.

Bet you didn't know, God reads poetry.