Cam's Poetry


I got you shook like some dice in my hand

Popping up hissing like y’all some snakes in can

you trumped up, you can’t come to my land

Confine you to your borders like a traveling ban

Homegrown terrorism paint the perfect scene

Paranoid, I’m checking all outliers from the mean

Skeptic of these everyday hoteptics

Queens don’t submit to misogyny and honestly

Pettiness and shade, the shit is getting played

Uplift one another til we all go asunder

The industries make a way to still get their pay

Throw us bones to watch us submit to Hunger Games play

Quietly planning on my great escape

and they wonder why I’m covertly spying out my day to day


Mind’s Playing Tricks on Me

I see it now I’m my own worst enemy

Gotta question if my closest really frenemies

Going crazy, insane, fault of the anxious brain

I make up for it but fail to conceal the pain

Can’t ever do or be enough, yea my bar’s high

Afraid to pull-up, because limits don’t define the why’s

Self sedation just to snooze on my troubles

Alarms open my eyes, they’ve magnified and doubled

All the double standards, others versus me

Emotional reasoning births false catastrophe

But I should challenge it right?

It’s like a challenge to fight, all the negativity to find the inner me

Feeling fraudulent with no brain, not as smart as they claim,

Numerical marks were  my claim to fame

Progress, no longer quantifiable

Got me thinking my come up is partially deniable

Used to streaks of luck, but hardships are getting back

Impatiently waiting for the day it all gets snatched away

Do whatever I can just to try and deal

Rolling over and up, to hide the way I feel

Life is passing me by, as the clock ticks

As I endlessly battle my mental, the David Blaine of tricks



We Gonna Make It (Lyrics)

Put my fam on my back, it’s only right you knowCollecting debt, dueling credit cards like Yu-Gi-Oh

But I refuse to sleep, unless I earn my keep

Parents supplied the table, now eats are my treat

This world was never fair, now I’m just facing fact

We gonna defeat the struggle, you bet I made the pact

Sometimes the work I put in, that shit just ain’t enough

Dispelling stereotypes, this shit is getting tough 

Seeing flashy dope dealers all around me

Enticing, but gotta little more fight in me

And Evidently being poor is our own fault 

Can’t blame them for flicking wrists until cuffs get caught 

But we trying to make a better way

Wishing for better days

Adversity beckons out the anger

I vowed to never let my bro be 

banger or slanger

So we gon fake it, until we take it

Cards are drawn, the bet’s all placed

We all gonna make it

Lyrics Written to Numb/Encore Collab

Can’t bury these thoughts no matter how I try

Reaching for the sky, but hear the mental cry

Sensing clearing of the blurred vision

Feeding off the anger from within, use this as provision

For a starving soul, dining in these depths alone

Dishing out extra servings,  self becomes shells and the bones

Obedient, trained on the chain

Crash course in umbrellas, but ill equipped to whip the rain

Seemingly nonredeemable are my mistakes

They gas me up me, say that i got what it takes

Pressures numbing me like novocaine

Absence of feeling isn’t the absence of pain

I’m not really what they want me to be

Reality, not really what they want me to see

They shout well done, encore on life’s stage

Temporary hype, to falsely douse my rage



Unbearable silence, now I’m
thinking out loud
Contemplating ills of the world, perched upon minds clouds
anger, envy, and hate are views from up top
Wishing I had the solutions to make it all stop
Battered and beaten, baffled by the brutality
Wondering where is the love, the humanity
So they say you need a piece to keep the peace
Love don’t live here now, forget renewing the lease
So I tiptoe quietly, not to awaken the beast
Superwoman, surrounded by kryptonite, to say the least

Feel It In The Air (Part 3)

I just want to see my nephew grow old

But we living in a bitter world, man it’s so cold

I tell by big cousin, aye you wildin Trav

These days ain’t like the times we spent on railroad ave 

Everybody’s suffering from some form of anxiety

Trying to live up to the rules of this society 

The anger festers, we just tend to black it out 

Volcanic eruptions of ruthless words pour from our mouths

We like to walk around this place,like ain’t shit change 

Life sentences end at point blank period range 

I feel myself changing, I’m starting to lighten up 

Gaining knowledge of my self, I’m starting to brighten up

Feel It in The Air (Part 2)

America,the land of the free and great
Bigots all across the states get to celebrate
How you win a campaign based on fear and hate? 🤔
Independent votes, wasted on Johnson and Stein
Stop victim shaming blacks that didn’t stand in line
Yea it’s a civic duty to give ourselves a voice
But lucifer and Satan were the only choice
Instead educate, about local and state
Maybe next time around, we’ll have a better fate
We all fear the inevitable demise
The racism is peaking from tolerable disguise
Can’t blame anyone for saying God will see us through
But real change comes from actions performed by you

C.R.E.A.M. Part 1

Cash rules everything around me

Privy to privilege, all these silver spoons that I see

Couldn’t make the social status, said the kid was lame

I was there for knowledge, not fake claims to fame

Parents didn’t have a college degree

Still instilling wisdom about the way shit out here be

Saw potential in us to tote the torch

I’m talking real strict, confined to books and bars of the front porch

I made a vow to self to amass my wealth

No more having them choose between money or health

Jordan with forward power

Clocking out of life just to clock another hour

And they still have the tendency to say it ain’t enough

Fake high collared snobs that never had it rough

Clean, clothed, and fed was the recipe

Don’t want no special treatments, just basic necessities

Me and my sis sharing shoes and coats

Pirating just to stay afloat

Super 10 twinning, rocking Ross fashions, but I hear them gloat

About Magnolia tripping, uptown balling

Thinking they better than, but failing and falling

Victim to the ills of materialistic minds

Yea you got the dollars but not the sense to be kind

A bunch of broke ass facades, yea it was all a front

Now they want to meet and greet up, but I won’t, sorry for being blunt

Coward Childhood

Orange pop cap guns from Hot Spots
And boiled peanuts out of Papa’s pots
Skipping to parks across tracks
And to Powell’s Grocery for afternoon snacks
My aunt’s janitor room crew
And J.C. Lynch Busy Beavers that made you
Sandwiches made with Kit’s lunch meat
And weekend beefs at Sugarhill and Downbeat
Grilling on racks and stone blocks
On a block where we didn’t have to keep doors locked
Reminiscing about old times with family
Summer sunsets, under the big, front, tree
Front yard cartwheels, honey suckles from backyards
Johnny’s Fish House tip boards and poker cards
Bible Temples, Olive and Savannah Groves
All the dirtroads we biked and drove
Clueless to the ills, reveling in ignorant bliss
Sometimes those days of innocence are what I miss

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