I'm holding a sword
I'm standing erect
I'm on top of the world
Yet I am down to earth

It's my own cup of tea
Haters want to sip
I asked them for beef
So they could eat with me

I don't cry over spilt milk,
I check the remaining and
Drink it


I love the black market,
Don't call me a racist.

I got the eagle eyes
And a cat's life.
If you want to kill me,
be sure its nine times.

A poem from my chapbook Mama's boy