ghetto grimoire from ghetto grimoire by ayodele nzinga

on the backs of crows
& reefer smoke prayers
ride in dark places
niched out of real life
in other rooms 6 yr
old boyz dressed as
spiderman all year long
can become president
can venture off the path &
return uneaten faces still
in the front of their heads
nike babies conceived of
top label dreams with
no endorsements
from the
cradle to the grave
crew jump-ins know
running before walking
parents hardwired into
floss & material proof of
existence 50 pairs of
sneakers make by
children in another room
cross water never young
born with weight
produce or die
fill dinner plates or perish
no light or life after this
there is no door
while in other rooms
too much oozes
out pores cancer
ate souls empty
this won't stop here
virus designer smallpox
measles blankets
& bridges for sale
you may not hunt or
breathe here
someone pray in anything
but english quickly
we done did
what we could here
best be on our way
now salt ring this door
one-horse towns
that change faces at
sundown hold skeleton
keys to the way we move
even our ghosts
have no roots
sometimes i remember
the future it
terrifies me close the
door this is the room
in which we hope
#we are breathing here
check your guns at the door
the wild west closed
skinny jeans & designer
backpacks brought the
American dream on sale
can't return it bricks
in a tv box magic
works on everyone
no pot of gold if
there ain't no rainbow
this is the room in which
they sold their past
to own our future
quit laughing yes reality
is the craziest shit you will
ever see but can't make nobody
else believe the door is open
ghosts write
on walls in burning rooms
but the music is way too
loud #sheepsleephere
george floyd was not
a minstrel show everybody
wore their real faces
at the murder
the pendulum may be
moving justice may
have found the arc
of good intent quickly
through the door before
it closes again for another
100 degrees in the shade
& we forget how to
dance & burn something
again but still wake up
in a straightjacket apologizing
for not being crazy
enough to watusi to this
song #crowsonthewing
murder she wrote
as skelly birds did high
dives into empty pools
next to the merry go round

• Spoken Word
• poetry
• poetry and music
• Oakland