Hangin on Cinnamon Block
Hey hey all you mudderfuttahs
Hangin’ out at on the Cinnamon block
Come over here
To try your luck
But ain’t no joy in USALAND—
I thought my life mattered,
But ain’t no one marching for me
Could it be cuz I’m a white lily
Like Granma faced with a burnt turkey
On Xmas morning?
Granny!
Come on over to Cinnamon block;
Come and try your luck:
Ain’t no one supposin nuthin,
But you can hang with me.
Fool.
But the sun’s happnin and
you can be too.
Posted on December 30, 2015, in Poem. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.