Hood Relations

Hood Relations
by Raederle Phoenix
2005: Junior Year

Note: This poem is written in this style for effect, and is designed to capture an essence of life that many of the girls I grew up around were living. Admittedly, I was there too, which is why I was able to write this the way it is written. I was there, and I felt it.

wasting my time, on a dick boo;
he's sellin' those great dimes, and nics too;
chewing on sweet lime, and licking the dew;
hearing through the grape-vine, about weed in-a bic, true.

he don't know how it hurts inside, when it all falls through;
he don't even confide, in his crew;
he don't ever lie, but he's never all true;
he'll make you cry, and make it better too.

he makes it so I can't concentrate,
he makes it so I'm always in a debate,
he always making me wait,
on the only way I can sedate.

he want me to spit, and not read what I writ,
I want 'em to slip, and dig outta a crypt,
sayin' I'm not fit without the right knit,
he want me to shut up and sit.

he talks about big clips, and eating me up,
he lickin' my sweet 'lit, and eating it up.
he thinks he's all that, and a bag of chips,
he calls me hypocrite, while hugging my hips.

he makes it so I can't concentrate,
he makes it so I'm always in a debate,
he always coming home late,
but he's the only way I can sedate.

spending my time, on this trick,
he sellin' the great dime, and a nic,
eating this sour lime, for a lick,
he buying me sweet wine, and making me tick.

he don't know...
he don't know...
he don't know...

but if you look a little closer, you will see,
he's not a poser, and he loves me.