December 19, 2012 
STREET FIGHTER BLUES
a poem by blackopscharlie 1120211 © blackopscharlie.com
sorrow… down the hole you go
careful…the depth surprising
where you will go
fight or flight bring it tight
far beyond, serious fright
red bill, blue pill
all is good
in hollywood
this ain’t the strip
miss shanghai
luv2cu
poppi high
brandi getting thigh
rolling, cruisen
lost daughters
in the caribbean
9 high
the mile wide
spreadn’
on the side
your back at the crib
spoon fed, baby bib
i’ll sling your shoulder
burn you till you’re older
i’ll draw you a road map
silly slap
oh, tap, tap
come back on you
krack kak kak
boom bat
now come sail with me
into the dark
sail
This aint the strip…
Love this shit, bro. Moments are funny. I just checked out a yahoo story on “the most spoiled kids in the world”. Millionaire and billionaire children wearing $2,800 worth of clothes, making splashes at red carpet events, lagooning in their 300 million dollar yachts – Jesus, you know how many homes you can buy with that – chillin’ for the paparazzi to show their teenage faces thinking they know, oh yeah, we know. No, mutherfucker, you don’t know. When you leave the strip, guess what. This aint the strip no more. I see lack of perspective. I see gross overload. I see moderation wasted. I see standards made obsolete. But the street fighter? Shit, Mike Tyson said it best. Ain’t nobody scared… till you punch them in the face.
thank you my brother. all too real…yet nothing but fake. a distorted view through the eyes of privilege that was never earned and colored by lenses of an unsatisfiable greed for more convinced they are entitled.