Thug Life

 

An original poem by Chrome Dome Mike Kimbro

 

Please read along to my Spoken Verse Performance.

 

 

INTRO

 

Sitting alone in a quiet corner booth,

 

Crafting a work of wit, wisdom and truth.

 

I was approached by a wayward youth,

 

Who said:  “It’s lights out at the nursing home.”

 

 

Now there was no cause for being rude.

 

It doesn’t pay to have an attitude,

 

Around a soul who savors solitude.

 

Prison offers more time to be alone.

 

 

My lens could use a fresh new context

 

The ‘big house’ provides an O. Henry aspect.

 

Which might increase my Pulitzer prospects.

 

Assuming Copper Canyon or Knopf take me on.

 

 

Look in these eyes, you don’t see fear.

 

I could sure use a quiet five or six years.

 

Hell, artists have been known to cut off an ear.

 

So you best not hassle this poet.

 

 

But grinning I said: "You want this booth bad.

 

I see your mates there, let me meet the lads.

 

And when my drink's done, I’ll be more than glad,

 

To pass this booth on to the young and restless."

 

 

Then the stupid punk's eyes filled with hate.

 

And he whispered: "Not a minute they'd wait."

 

Sat there stubbornly, and left it to fate.

 

The three beat me badly, then pressed charges.

 

 

CHORUS

 

This is the tale

 

Of an alpha male.

 

In my hand you’ll find

 

A pistol

 

Or knife.

 

 

I doubt you can

 

Ever understand

 

As you sip fine wine

 

From crystal…

 

Thug life.

 

 

VERSE 1

 

Mama said that I’ll

 

Probably end up in jail

 

Or maybe the cemetery.

 

 

Now I’m waiting for trial,

 

But I can’t make bail.

 

Lots of time to pray the “Hail Mary.”

 

 

VERSE 2

 

The things I learned in Sunday School,

 

Don’t you party or smoke or chew,

 

Go to prayer meeting, and avoid lying.

 

 

So young I burned the Golden Rule

 

Cause the starting team was them that knew:

 

“If you’re not cheating, then you’re not trying.”

 

 

CHORUS

 

This is the tale

 

Of an alpha male.

 

In my hand you’ll find

 

A pistol

 

Or knife.

 

 

I doubt you can

 

Ever understand

 

As you sip fine wine

 

From crystal…

 

Thug life.

 

 

VERSE 3

 

So don't you try to deny me,

 

The good things in life I am grabbing.

 

A stiff drink and soft touch are my preference.

 

 

There are those who are quick to despise me,

 

When I raise my arms, and commence dabbing.

 

That's my requisite drug culture reference.

 

 

CLOSE

 

The gangsta way.

 

That’s how I roll.

 

Along the way’s a ton of strife…strife…strife.

 

 

But here I stay,

 

Awaiting parole

 

Another man’s with my son and wife…wife…wife.

 

Thug Life.

 

 

The End.

 

 

Copyright © Michael Kimbro 2018.  All rights reserved.

 

 

Keywords: Poems about dabbing, Thug poetry.