Why I Write: Verses in Exile #1

I write 4 men, women, and children.

any 1 who ever felt alone,

any 1 who ever felt disowned,

i write for the bones buried in a country i call home,

i write for u the listener so listen up

take a step back and imagine the bigger picture

cuz i write the real so feel me

i write for inner city street kids

struggling to find their place in a world to concern with race

i write for the momz and pops shops

strugglng to stay atop cuz the dopeboyz got the block on lock

cant compete with the drama

so i write soap operas

about single mothers and brothers

about the struggle and hustle

the bustling city where empty bellies rumble

like silent earthquakes we shake

hungry like young lions

we defying the the odds

prayin to God Lord give us the strength to carry on

so i write to redefine the stars

naw, none of that hollywood glitz and glamour

or them stones that shimmer and glimmer

but

some of that earthy residue that comes thru when one is being true

so i write to the few

hoping i get trickled down to the masses

i wanna spark the world and get reborn in its ashes

i wanna unfog their glasses and make em see the sons and daughters they abandoned to be bastards

know that we grow like mollasses

i point to the north like davie jones compass

just follow the sounds of trumphets and listen up

i write for love

for wind chimes when they dangle and jangle

moving passionately like two doing the tango

i write for the sweet taste of mangos

cuz this is that tropical heat

sun blistering

skin glistening

while drinkin coconuts under the cabana

while i listen to the sound of ur sleep

beauty like the everglades

i write to the beat drums of runaway slaves

engrave in the etchings of oak trees

so even when time pass we last like classic oldies

weathering the elements

yeah

i write for the essence of soul

for the old

cuz experience is wisdom and wisdom is gold

Behold

i write for the gorillas in the congos

for the nomads in the jungles following the rythm of the bongos

yeah

i write for the warriors stretched out in the far corners of asia

malaysia, cambodia, afghan, iran, iraq,and deep africa

i write for the souls lost i attica

i write for california

the golden state where we holding weight

struggling to hold on to faith

cuz they steady packing us in prisons til we’re old and grey

so i write for those in blue thats doing all day

tehachapi, new folsom, corcoran, pelican bay

all the way to susanville, high desert, and back down this way

calipat, lancaster, soledad, ironwood

and so many more built into cesspools

so i write about wats less cool

less fake

so less take a moment of silence for the fallen and press pause

okay

thats enough

lets get back to the cause

lets get back to these walls

built to separate and generate hate

built to execute and induce waste

so i write from a place of pure bass

all the five elements put together to produce faith

i write for men women and children

anyone whoever felt alone

anyone whoever felt disowned

i write for the bones in a country i call home

i write for u the listener so listen up

take a step back and imagine the bigger picture

i write the real so feel me

Kosal Khiev