Prompt: Biting Rhymes: Rhyming Can Be Hard, Let Someone Else Do It For You

ORIGINAL POEM

Ode to Youth Group ‘O7

With thanks to “We real cool” by Gwendolyn Brooks

“The Pool Players.

Seven at the Golden Shovel.”

Leave class through the window, got a dealer in LA willing to say yes, yes We Real cool. We
Left school, every tuesday with our parent’s stolen credit cards, went to burnt out yards see: We

Lurk late, ain’t no time to live line and narrow looking down the barrel so we take. We
Strike straight, through powdered snow in May spring, raise a glass to our missing kin. We

Sing sin, knowing the Devil may be in georgia, while we rot in nowhere virginia countryside. We
Thin gin with water cause lord knows we dont got enough to search and find, lay face down. We

Jazz June, let that shit fly out car windows, let that shit fly up our nose as we breathe. We
Die soon, in a tropical breeze surrounded by fields of brown grass and all our dreams annexed.

Mucinex.