The Smoking Gun

by B.T. Bonner

I live my life 
no longer a victim of pain 
use my words like a revolutionary song
a mantra for change
a beacon of hope for the smokeless
instead of a symbol of dope for the hopeless
and these words inhales volumes
lest I pray on them too hard 
like Malcolm, Marcus, and Mandela
it was not something born to me
just in me
and I can rise higher than the green wind from two blunts 
and still stunt a straight line 
between my family
who wants my limit to reach the sky
and my famo
who wants high a broken 5
for they both claim territory in my heart
and for them I'll walk through a lake of fire
an example of the decisions that I made high 
so I hold my head higher
than my yesterdays that no longer matter 
in the greater scheme of the AmeriKan dream
for the mundane is ordinarily tired
and the Media face is once again
the Lord that we pray to at 5, 6, and 10
avoiding election poles like electric poles 
and retreating into a world built with Fool's Gold
spending every dime on dollar wine
watching your manhood die along with your vote
punching the buttons of your control
wondering why the debates are getting old
and the streets have grown so cold
because every shotgun blast
is a result of a decision in contrast
like Greenspan planning for another stock market crash       
and mistakes of the past being recycled 
like waste from a dirty rinse cycle

The Smoking Gun by B.T. Bonner

© Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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