30 poems in 30 days
day 9: april 15, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)
wear shoes
there's a movement not yet ready to stand up and be accounted for
so i hold him on my shoulders
listen son
this sidewalk hurts
wear shoes
the railroad tracks require boots because of glass
and there will be intersections waiting for your voice
they should go deaf while you spit generational dope lyrics from the top of your lungs cursing the dope dealers and business men
they've kidnapped all our messengers and gave them microphones and chains
you will wear no chains
pay attention
it gets dark at night
carry light
travel light
sleep like the masai
drink a glass of water before you sleep
we gotta be up early to learn the block
so which every path you choose
you'll know how to walk
wear shoes
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