The Bomb

By Monae Smith

bangin strength
flowing through
that bum joint
lookin
psychotic
and wicked
random
imagination
got you geekin
but yet you flockin
all
on
my
joc
loneliness in that
bookitten
that is stuck
in the
moment and
still flocking like a
peacock
callin you
her umaga
man even
though she look
like a man
callin her
Jawanna Man
sayin
but I got
u
guh man.