RUDE BOY REALITY

With a Biggy Smalls literary philosophy

And a Tupac Shakur immortal imagery

Rude Boy life is a harsh reality

An enumeration of the living in a colour-clad prophecy

Where guns talk more than tongues of dope

Sniffed blood instead of mounds of coke

That space where the first matters more than the last breath

A place that time has ceased and love is ruled by death

Manhood and respect is bled from the gun

Liquated valour injected by comforting needles

But hid from the sun

Hid at times where the life owned is at threat

Otherwise, that which is marked gets greet by the blade or the bullet

That unwanted realism lavishly decorated on mammonists

Perpetuated by high-profile idealism

Conjured with pomp by trigger-happy hands and sensationalists

An actuality we utterly despise

Yet harbour when it hits close to home then close our eyes

That prospect of progress and success which consumes the young

Builds hope, imbues faith, then murders through mental transudation

It burns to fumes that siege the surrounding air of consideration

Then suffocates dreams and aspires to intellectual constipation

Rude Boy Reality sieves through our calamitous truth

That which maims, victimizes and kills the youth

An era void of desired choice opportunities

But offers sinister limitless possibilities

A reality we fuel day and night as time goes by

One which may never part

As long as there remains a day to die

That reality where weeping mothers still sit to cry

One which does all, but lie