“I’ve got two death sentences plus 60 years. I’m never getting out, so I’ve got nothing to
lose.”
-
Anonymous Inmate
Hotep,
This environment is
generally plagued by the pessimism of those in fear of dying within these
prison walls. Some characters attempt to
disguise their fears by adamantly vocalizing their greatest fear.
The above quote can be
heard quite regularly in the dayroom of the death row housing unit. The fear is evident in each and every
syllable. SMH. This is why I’m thankful for the people
around me who actually have something to say.
My man, “Bucktown,” is
gradually becoming a fixture of this W2TM movement. This Brooklynite has taken the elements from
an environment of hopelessness and fear to formulate an intoxicatingly profound
expression the masses can ingest. Word
is bond!
The author/lyricist
spit this expression at me in true MC fashion.
So it’s only right, to turn up the volume and pass the mic. The voice of “Bucktown” is now upon you.
Keep on Keepin,
MannofStat
Copyright © 2013 by
Leroy Elwood Mann
Fighting Death
When the doors close and the lights dim and it’s just you and
them ghosts utter closeness and memories from the past come to haunt that ass
you start to wonder will this be the night they take you under ain’t nowhere to
run to nowhere to hide and swallowin your pride ain’t an option when you’re
locked in a cell manmade hell you either rebel or succumb to the gloom of the
tomb this hellish catacomb the magnitude of my thoughts are fraught with
vivid projections of my life’s conclusion
nah I’m not stressin’ just refectin’ pensively mental energy high look into my
eyes and you’ll see I’m focused despite the
situation facin’ what I’m facin’ pacin’ waitin anticipatin’ makin’ preparations
cause it ain’t gon’ be a pittance of quittance when it comes to poison liquid drippin’ into my
veins I gon’ act insane and I can’t be blamed for my hostility the plan on
killin’ me fillin’ me with a lethal combination terminatin’ my life widowing my
wife paternally orphaning my kids shortenin’ my moms one kid shi…mentally I
spar thoughts spark in the dark as I craft my art from the heart sincerely feel
me y’all it’s the essence of a man the presence of a man in a desolate land
that’s less than excellent damn can you understand a brotherman that’s lost
from the motherland tryin’ to find his way back from a foreign land that has
indoctrinated him stripped him of his native tongue he’s gone from a native son
to a slave son a victim of situational circumstances a recipient of hurtful
glances as he searches for answers among other things a brother sings the blues
sometimes confused wishing he can trade in his shoes, but you know life it’s
never fair he once has a whole head of hair he has grown older his life is
colder he’s got a lot of weight on his shoulders people say his life is over
but he’s still fightin’ like a m…f…
soldier.
By Bucktown, a.k.a. Forever, a.k.a. Rodney Taylor
Copyright © 2013 by Rodney Taylor
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