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Heard concerns about my whereabouts, When my presence has always been at the ward Constantly delivering and my birth is a fair amount Of the results – which is out with a baby on board May Day! May Day! Il faut m'aider  Renovation works ongoing in my head Cos it's pregnant with ideas Call in the surgeon for his dividers – It feels like these lines have me heavily wired My mind is choked with garlic knots Quite full of loaded tots  Like will there be a ranch dressing on a sundae? Or, when a French fries is there ever a flambé? If a widow's mite is all the strength she has Might she be able to raise milky bars? If what goes around, comes around had a name Will that be a boomerang? When a trigger happy policeman Shoots his shot at a black kid, Does that make him a pervert or a racist? If I play with the hearts of women  Am I a gambler or a playboy who loves to play, sis? Many thought I'd fold like an origami piece Well, here's my olive branch for their wreath  May thei...

She used to be a library of memories, Telling us where she was during the solar eclipse Not a tailor yet she stitched conversations so well That would make you wonder if she was a toastmaster She used to be an ocean of happiness, Drowning many in her laughter and jokes Truthfully speaking, her stories was a spaceship – Taking us trips to a different planet Wasn't she a galaxy for little stars like us? Vast – that we couldn't contain her past  Wasn't she a mountain with peaks in the tropics? Climaxing us with accurate historical topics Today, the woman who birthed me, Has no knowledge of my birthday  Occasionally, she mistakes me for others And it surprises me if she's really being honest  Most often, we'd jump into assumptions – Thinking it might be menopause  But the bitter truth of her health is a consumption  That's she suffering from a huge memory loss I have become the punchbag to this shocking news Sometimes, I wear my smiles for her despite the bruise C...

Oh Father who art in heaven, Does that mean artists draw inspirations from you? Our palette holds too many strokes of burden, Yet, your guidance helps us find the perfect hue Aren't we Young Sheldons? Answering to many pep talks about our city's blues Mostly, it's difficult to tell what the Lord's serving, Yet, I know his grapes are one of the things he brews                                    II In the desert with my ears to the ground, I heard better days are coming with full speed My joy knows no bound, Has me moving my arms and legs like Bruce Lee Heavy lies the head that wears the crown No wonder this true vine got thorns but fruits juicy Peacefully sticking to my guns for another round, My arms are ready to fire bloody shots like an Uzi                                  III Pharisees with chali...