I Held A Gun

(Excuse me, Mr. President.)

By: Antwan Crump

I held a gun once and felt repugnance.

That doesn’t mean I’d take away a sin from those who want it.

I understand it’s how the meek evolve themselves from nothing—

Into the kind of being that could take a life and from it…

They stroll with a big chest—feeling like they’re Genghis,

The same in Iraq (yet they call that shit horrendous).

The irony is lost…

They don’t understand the cost of,

Loss of,

Life, liberty, and FUCK FACTS.

Give us bullets.

Take tax.

Let it crumble. Let it burn.

“This generation’s got to learn.”

That nothing comes easy except a grave–

…and that’s mostly earned.

So, I slid the hollow-tip in the cartridge and endorsed it.

My dick got hard as my blood raged—coursing.

Index on the trigger, while my ego got bigger, and I’m thinking—

This the weapon that they use and call me “nigger”.

Rappers. Actors. Gun-nuts and politicians.

Can you hear my words before you take me off to prison?

Or exile?

Conversations a long-mile, but worth having.

“Thoughts and Prayers” are in the air…but that ain’t magic.

Could you even match it?

The desperation of a nation on the brink—

How many Emmett Till’s until we ain’t passive?

It’s gonna’ take compassion…

But that won’t happen until a white man, kills a black man—in up to date fashion.

HE’D HAVE TO BE IMMACULATE.

The kind of person who supports what you resort to.

Straight A’s and no tattoos.

He “@“‘s you.

Gripping on his ax too.

Bleeds the colors of the flag and even calls the Muslims “bad” too.

Voted every time (and for the same mammal as you).

A good dude.

And even then, the legislation will pass,

“…Your blackhead shouldn’t be traveling…”

Here’s the kick in the ass.

The conversation that takes over–

Revolving around Bi-polar, and Asperger’s, and Autism,

Schizophrenics and the Hard-Living.

Are all imperatively irrelevant.

‘Cause where’d they get the gun?

Apply truth and let it settle in.

Don’t twist it, spin it, or call it nonsense.

Hear me out and respond then.

Send me a correspondence.

THAT’S how you resolve shit.

I’m not proclaiming insanity ain’t a reason,

But damn it, who you appeasing?

You’re defunding the whole subject!

Just to prove a point.

That you can’t shoot.

I know it’s hard with your millions and the “work” suits.

I know you’re scarred from the billions that have spurned you.

But that shit is old news.

Don’t we have some worth too?

I’m afraid to vote because the black and white are blurred blue.

Either a “Snowflake” or a “Nazi”—

This what it’s come to?

How do you tell the kids that daddy’s dead from “Nazi-acts”?

How do you tell a spouse, “The Snowflake should’ve bought and packed…”

The kind of gun they would’ve shot him for (…they let us hang for that).

How could you stand for that?

You think you’re in demand for that?

All the wildin’, smile in front of cameras,

Attempt to address the damage,

And compromising your morals,

With fans of yours who adore you.

I get it…you’re feeling royal.

But what’s a crown to a broken people?

Ask France about it.

“Let them eat cake,”

I bet you’d do a dance about.

You’d probably rant about it.

Rave all to your KKklan about it.

I’ll excuse it all…

But first, you need to be a man about it.

The immigrants are just trying to do what your grandpa did.

The innocence of a dream—

They arrive and it’s hardly here.

We’re busy shooting:

Looting.

Convoluting and getting stupid.

And fuck being “woke” without a revolution.

And fuck what you like.

Discussion must be had.

I’ll leave my piece at home.

Just promise to leave my skull intact.

For my momma’.

Yeah… I’d give my life for that.

I held a gun once and felt repugnance.

I’ve listened to the N.R.A. preach about our “republic”.

And all the freedoms we enjoy, coming from amendments,

Made when I was a slave.

Shouldn’t we amend them?

Shouldn’t we protest?

Shouldn’t we assess them?

Four-hundred years, and we barely even address them.

And the most depressing,

We’re headed for a recession,

While the rich still saving—deflating all our aggression.

Knowing that we’ll all die…

—and they’ll call it a blessing,

…while Zimmerman kicks back and enjoys the deflection.

Follow me on Twitter, won’t you? @I_AM_ANTWAN