How I Got Over
A poem, titled after the record by The Roots.
Today the streets were emptied.
Cleaned by the monsoon
I walked on water
As I made my way upwards.
Lack of gravity and clarity.
I’m untouched by the forces
I dodged that broken glass
I stepped over used syringes
I’m affluent in influence
The ripples spawned by my footsteps
Strike as Gospel to those drowning
And those trying to tread water.
The stench of unswept streets
The depths on unmet meets
I greet both late at night
When I decide to try to sleep.
Swapped my pillow for a vice,
Fell asleep, then woke up twice
Sold off my false idols, in return for Christ
Moving in my own direction, less time to be nice.
You need to know the rules before you can break them,
Dig up the roots of the trees before you shake them,
Fruits don’t come loose and make juice stuck in trees
My noose won’t go loose if I don’t pray on my knees.
“My poetry is living, like the God that I fall back on,
All praise is due to Allah for this illustrious platform.”
