Poetry Corner: No Mind Paid

With every Burst of the Rifle 

Imma Free Man

Even if I die with said Gun in my hand 

See what you don’t understand 

If you believe you can control or stop death 

Then you don’t believe in God’s divine plan 

The Mask over your mouth 

But your destiny in a wicked Government’s hand

So damn Gullible and Weak

I thought life was for the living 

Looks like all we got left is dead sheep 

You got twelfth hundred dollars 

I got the same too

But the cereal and meat too damn high

And it’s only one box left

What the fuck we gon’ do?

The Clock’s going tick tock 

But you know the clown can never be serious 

Gotta show our ass for Tik Tok

Mental Slavery before long

Before I be a slave again 

I’ll be gone 

It’s The ballot or the projectile

No liberty for any reason means

We comfortable in our playpen prisons

Like a Fuckin Child A lot of people died 

Fuck the Vote 

But mainly for you and me to be free

Racist Gun Control 

Telling you where the fuck to go is direct disrespect to Robert F. Williams and Huey P

ABOUT AUTHOR

  • Sergio Wilson

    Sergio is a father, poet, writer, philosopher and cerebral analyzer from Birmingham, Alabama.

Sergio Wilson

Sergio is a father, poet, writer, philosopher and cerebral analyzer from Birmingham, Alabama.

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