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?
Come on over to Cinnamon block;
Come and try your luck:
Ain’t no one supposin nuthin,
But you can hang with me.
But the sun’s happnin and
you can be too.

About Kitt

Sometimes a rhyme or couplet wanders across my consciousness. So, I share it. Other times I'm a hospice social worker; others, a Dad; others, southerner, New Orleanian, cajun enthusiast, voter, and on better days, a not-too-awful-poet/rhymster. Welcome to my page. Enjoy.

Posted on December 30, 2015, in Poem. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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