Pennies and cents loom over me
Talent and drive by the pound
Some days I don’t even know how I get around
Pennies and cents, I savor the strain
I feel like 2pac screaming, “No more pain!”
I wonder why and literally create with my own hands
Artisan spirit, economy demands
Pennies and cents
Change for some, sacred for me
One big tribe of creativity
Barter, trade, switch,
Hook me up with your stee
Yet and still,
Pennies and cents loom over me
Damn Adam Smith and his
Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations
Fuck laissez-faire, I fucken mean that from the heart
Forcing me to put a price on my one of a kind art
Blood, sweat, tears, canvas cold hard cash
If it were up to me I swear to God money would be trash
That shits the devil to a financially illiterate individual that loves to live free
Hence, the title of this poem,
“Pennies and cents loom over me”
Money makes the world go round, that’s just to keep it real
When you ask me to do something for free
How you think that makes me feel?
To place a price, when rent is due seems like a good trade
We’ve reached this point, please respect the path we pave
it’s not a hobby, this is my source of income
Life’s not cozy, but my friends are real
Worse come to worse I know I can always count on a humble meal
I understand GURU wanting Mass Appeal
To translate the love into dollars because secretly,
I don’t know if you know this but,
Pennies and cents loom over me…
Alternative economy, black market stee,
But even there you will find a need for currency
If you don’t believe me, I’ll sell you this poem as proof of my reality
The going rate for this piece to be heard
Will be five bucks a pop, and if you aint got it on you, fuck it,
I’ll take what you got, you’re my client
I’m your artist and for you I’ll produce only high quality, top notch,
Mutual aid, you put food in my fridge
Nice shirts, maybe a nice watch
But overall more than hearing me vent
This is an honest buck that helps pay my rent
In my pocket as of now I have lint, pennies and cents
Este es el trueque, y esta e mi canasta,
Mochense con el billello, este es mi cello
My raw material, this is my seal,
Proof of purchase that your working class poet keeps it real
Tell the world you paid top dollar for these words
Tell them I strategized the morphemes,
Syntax, nouns and verbs
Attention to detail with aesthetic symmetry
And all because, capital forces
Pennies and cents to loom over me
So before I go any further, with all due respect,
From artist to client, I ask for one and only one favor
And that is to at all times respect my labor,
That being said, the condition for my reciting this
Is solely to get ahead,
Time’s up poems over, what’s up client?
Break bread.
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