I’m tired how murder 
follows us

how we’re an all too accessible play area 

for anger’s russian roulette merry go round

and how this, patronizing, cautionary life of smiles and apathy

for our death 
waits freer than we ever were

sweeping us vagrantly in riptides

complacency in a glass of tap water poison in flint
from slave patrol city minders
too scared to be outspoken,
too sour to let peace slip toward our space,
too eager to kill their way into a co-opted white saviorhood.

the sum of me after I
regather what’s left,
never amounts enough
to save any love i have in me
for us,
so i plant more with a hope substitute
its either that or i go into debt trying not to drown
in this rising tide deluge 

constructing rafts with half my body under the moon’s embrace

whole world assuming i belong to the sea 

praising some jesus supposedly never getting his feet wet

i guess they’d love me more if 
he was here watching them

instead of them just believing

he was 

but then they’d still have to believe themselves while they were doing it.

---

Maestro Gamin began developing his poetry sometime in 2009/2010 after attending Vibrations Writer’s group. He soon began attending open mics across southern Los Angeles and downtown areas, such as Lost Souls Cafe, The Monday Speakeasy, World Stage, DPL, Natural High (flight school), Our Mic, and Freedom of Speech Thursdays.

IG: @kingtrade_maestro