I’d rather fantasize
about the tattoo on Rihanna’s ass
than contemplate the fact that
billionaire corporations
don’t pay federal taxes.
Perhaps it’s because I’m black.
Now that I’ve played the race card,
you’re thinking
it has to be more than that.
I’m part of the 99%
which means my clique runs deep
but most of us don’t know shit.
We’re overtaxed,
overworked and under-fucked.
Wishing we had better luck.
We’d listen but had enough.
Drowning in sips and taking puffs
of our version of the finest stuff.
Don’t judge us.
Intellects and fools smoke weed
like the evil who rule need greed.
We’re just trying to eat
as they feed their ego.
Here we go
down that road again.
Heads being replaced with stone again.
Addicted to the rare earth elements
in your phone again.
It’s a cultural norm to be stupid,
poor and dream of being rich.
Naturally it’s just a coincidence
the funniest black man in the world’s a Mitch.
Oh, I wish I didn’t think so much.
It’s only entertainment for sure.
I’m just bored
and your stubbornness
is timeless – its point is mighty.
Feelings reign over me like Capitalism.
Distracted, I am living out a life
I intended unintentionally,
convinced I will be there someday.
Dreams fade into movies and music.
Living vicariously
we forget to love
with the same everlasting pride
that keeps you quiet.
Why am I always the one
who breaks the silence
for the sake of love
when transfixed by the formula
locked on your lips.
You’re inside of me.
Branded me.
Had me thinking it was design.
I want my freedom.
You want my mind.
Mina Merci 