::02:07:08::

::: Green Thumb Thugs :::

Rolling blunts on Harlem stoops, nobody should be outside in such ease,
in January,
eye roll by and everyone notices
blue and white bouquets
weighing down my two hands,

Eye balance life juice,
don’t spill on my leather,
white roses, hydrangea,
what do corner thugs think of fresh flowers,
their girlfriends, they fill the tender spots, think romantic destinations
for aroma bullets,

Venus fly-trap people
who eat each other alive
with stone stares

Gardeners who till their own earth
by smoking green plants
wrapped in dry brown skin of older earth

The stems at the bottom of the vase
can be utilized by idle warriors
for impromptu battles
in Soap Opera sonnets,

These children of Scarface t-shirts,
Alphonse Capone tattoos,
where there liver sits,

A skilled scrapper would aim for that ink face
and make you see rainbows, in your first piss of the morning

Flowers that have been let out of the cocoon only have been pronounced with a week left,
would’ve been pushed to the bottom of a trash can
tonight, if I hadn’t
brought them to your local hood stoop,
it’s suggested that you speak to them,
your music will only make it thrive,
it understands celebration, because it understands, right now

Your eyes wander.

Written by: ~ Luzleaf