Studying the life of Basquait
Thinking this is why this is why this is why I’m hot
Eroticism blacker than the kitchen pots
Living life within the knots
A slow rise with random stops
Hop trends like fences
An art form defenseless on how who listens remembers it.
My skin is thick like molasses
Darker than brass is a people once classes defined by its Passion Either lasting long or Long lasting
Still considered last we
We are the artist of the world
Marauder’s to ink pens, pencils and paint.
We paint what we ain’t to live where we can’t
Stain canvass with last wishes
Eat four course meals on
A better tomorrow on everyone wish list.
In Remembrance I smile
Written by Me