Poetry,  Vic Stanley

Don’t Wanna Leave

Photo by Alexander Popov on Unsplash

Written by Vic S.

Came up scramblin’

Learned it as we went

Times I was ramblin’

I had to get my talk together

Never “I”,

We learned to walk together

Ridin’ ’til the death

Outlined in chalk together

That’s the womb to the tomb

Now ’til our doom

Sip from one cup,

Pass it ’round the room

That’s how it go

Pouring out Mo’ (Moet)

I guess it’s Ace (Armand de Brignac) now,

Shoot, I lost my Ace boogie (best friend)


All that time we spent on the grind

We a long way from rookies,


You can tell the streets shook me

Still, the devil never overtook me

But in this world of Christianity

They love to overlook me,

But I’m from where we stay down

And stay focused

Where the night’s the coldest

And the summer’s too hot

Where hustlers control the corners

And pork patrols the block


G took me up the road

He’s doing magic in the pot


The pledge with 30 grams

The turn, 60 of rock

Disappears with prestige

Comes back as knots (money)

That’s how I learned to clock

Dopeboy mathematics

You ain’t got the stomach to watch


See Christ baptized it,

Purified and revived it

Put it to work for the call

Nah, you wouldn’t understand me



I’m dressed in the garments,

But they say my behavior’s alarming

My words too abrasive

My demeanor disarming

My stories too vivid,

I leap with no warning

Ya’ll move with timidity

Your practices are too gimmicky

Y’all pitch it as piety,

You’re lookin’ like an enemy,


But an enemy poses a threat,

Y’all just a distraction,

I continue on my trek

Blood, tears, and sweat

Imprinted in my steps,

I watch the world go crazy

And my peers turn shady

Ya thoughts are too lazy

Y’all holdin’ too many maybes

Somebody tell Kaylee

I’m trying to make her my baby


I’m way too decisive

So they paint me as divisive,

Only time I’m dividing

Is when I’m delegated the work

Y’all relegated to quirks

That make you move too awkward

To run with us young turks

I put a whole team together

A little conglomerate,

To sow up the game

Our seams are better


Those millennial Christians 

Will have you in chains and fetters

We’re bringing the ancient back

Our words ain’t lofty or clever

You know we survive in weather

Where y’all would die

And I gotta be honest,

I won’t cry,

‘Cause it’s probably a reprieve

They tell me that’s wrong,

But ya’ll wasn’t really built to hang at this echelon

It’s way too high

And the pressure too great

And the night’s too long

And there’s never ending days

And your shoulders ain’t broad enough to bear this weight. . .


I tell them “Call me Vic,”

That’s so I can hide who I am

Full name “Victor”

I was born a winner

On the 19th of March

At the edge of Winter

And the beginning Spring

So there’s pep in my step

And ice in my veins,

Dissent on my breath

Truth in my frame

Go ahead and put me to the test,


This American Christianity is dastardly

We came to shift the culture drastically

They hate what we do,

So they’re plotting on trapping me

Black bagging me

And letting the wolves have at me

But us lambs are also lions you see. . .


I don’t want to leave you

But it’s my soul ya’ll grieve. . .    


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.