Sunday, April 19, 2009

The Right To Create

I didn't get your name
when we shook hands
you/shining in humility
with your milk
clouded eyes
I smell humanity
on me/ breed the seed
of art/ carry
around the pain
We do the corn-bottom
rock/ the ghetto dance
like grappling for truth
in an anti-art world
You can't catch me
I'll spit in your face
There is no pain
only pride.

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