#dirtythirty #day3 It was hard to write today. - Honest reflections - Youre so, berj-wah, she said. Id just found a chunck of change, $70 buck Stuck In the bottom of my chinos We laughed. Bourgeois. Pshh. Middle-class. Pshh. I was raised on the economy of hard-work and toil Mama baking bread Papa turning soil We wore hand me downs From plastic bags Drove in run down wagons On too little gas Our big smoke Known only for the TPT or thunder toke My big dreams To see the beehive Or meet someone Who had done a real Sky Dive Pshh. Bourgeois. Pshh. Middle-class. Its 20 years on Chance encounters And Unintended choices Its Uni degrees Suits, shirts, leather shoes and articulate voices Its stumbled on chances Traded dreadlocks for glasses But still yelling, chur bro! Its feet in two worlds As my circumstances change Everything else stays the same Theres food, Always on my table But mammas are breaking backs Just to keep their kids stable I chuck coins in donation boxes Then buy rounds at the Foxes I do pro-bono work for causes Then chuck a hundy down on the horses Swipe cards Past guards Airpoints Fast cars I stare at the beehive every day Bourgeois. Pshh. When did things all change.
Posted on: Thu, 03 Apr 2014 11:13:15 +0000
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