Never was it intended, For I this to write

Though to write has always been the craving I fight

Fights cause fright, With all might that sometimes lasts nights.

This is trench warfare

So expect nothing fair

Am getting real messy and dusting off all flair

To blast off a few of my yet finer bits…

Of word mints

A homage to the mountain of a person who’s refined my wits.

Starting off in the eighties

With little ambition beyond striving for the daisies

You gave a brother spring

And the first reality of a possibility of literal flying

Most times this hung on chances no more than a shoestring

You were never the one to believe in us losing all to us dying.

Running molasses in masses

We made, even more, kill smuggling sashes

You the Fidel of the law

I the Raul always yearning for more

On the straits of Florida, we loomed

We moved mountains, even those with lava for fountains

Earning fist bumps with Mobutu before all his was doomed

I the gunpowder that you led

You the lead that kept the pounder

History judges us the first who caught fish outta the dead sea

We ceased the catch that hypnotized the gods to have us another day to see.

Even for days with less plenty than fair

We kept a brotherhood painted in the friendship we share

Don’t blush, it’s what you taught me we as brothers do

I learned to hunt, for you taught me to;

That it’s more fun to survive for two

That still, being your lesson, to the detail mastered too

I had to learn

Lest I wouldn’t earn

You dragged me through the flares of death valley

Showing me sights in hell’s kitchen’s alley

It was gunpowder & Lead

You the lead, out to plunder

I the gunpowder, never a bounder

I the rebellious, you the meticulous

A combination of brotherhood some deemed ridiculous

You Introduced me to the illumination

A self-discovery of thought and inner intuition

Lodged in the wonders of the stouts of 1759

You introduced me to the gods and lords of our times

Those wonderful memories last despite the grim we had in ’99

Brother, tough times we had that pass, ’99 had no dimes, just crimes

But you learned me composure, selfishness till the good fall of twenty -o-nine

I want to say am not grateful, cause that’s pride

And that would serve you right for learning me to look out first for self

But again, knowing you, my shame, would lead me into the Kalahari to hide

That shame of ingratitude to a Great to whom I owe myself

So I kiss the ring and with that you know am grateful

You learned me to drain away all that was hateful

No chores, no moles, no who*res just things nice and peaceful

You brought back my instinct to cease my good luck

And with that, I found my way back

To the shades of my skin and tone of heart, some call black

Dear Godfather,

I don’t finch and you’ve always known that father,

Just your whim and my bodily form will be at your service, a whisker no farther

We are still the gunpowder and Lead..that’ll forever be our mark.

A zwzimwe Creation 2016©


One thought on “Gunpowder & Lead

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