bruise pic

 

For GRIP, my latest release, I commissioned an Atlanta-based spoken word artist to write an original piece titled “Bruise”. I ended up co-writing some of it, and am so pleased with how it turned out.

GRIP

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2lKfZVt
Amazon Universal: myBook.to/GetAGrip

Copyright (c) Kennedy Ryan, 2017

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

“Bruise”

Am I all of your fears, wrapped in black skin,

Driving something foreign, windows with black tint

Handcuffed on the side of the road, second home for black men

Like we don’t have a home that we trying to get back to when

PoPo pulls me over with no infractions,

Under the speed limit, seat belt even fastened,

Turned on Rosecrans when two cruisers collapsed in

Barking orders, yeah, this that Cali harassment

Guns drawn, neighbors looking from front lawns and windows

I know cops got it hard, don’t wanna make a wife a widow

But they act like I ain’t paying taxes, like your boy ain’t a citizen

They think I’m riding filthy, like I’m guilty pleading innocence.

They say it’s ‘Protect & Serve’, but check my word

Sunny skies, ghetto birds overhead stress your nerves,

They say if you ain’t doin’ wrong, you got nothin’ to fear,

But the people sayin’ that, they can’t be livin’ here . . .

 

We all BRUISE,

It’s that black and blue

A dream deferred,

Nightmare come true

In another man’s shoes,

Walk a mile or two

Might learn a couple things

I’m no different than you!

 

You call for the good guys when you meet the bad men,

I’m wearing a blue shield and I still feel the reactions

When I patrol the block, I can sense dissatisfaction

There’s distrust, resentment in every interaction,

Whether the beat cop, lieutenant, sergeant or the captain

We roll our sleeves up and we dig our hands in

I joined the force in order to make a difference,

Swore to uphold the law, protect men, women and children,

These life and death situations, we make split-second decisions

All for low pay, budget cutbacks and restrictions

We’re ambushed in Dallas, now where’s all the chatter

Gunned down in Baton Rouge, don’t blue lives need to matter?

Not just a job—it’s a calling, a vocation,

My wife’s up late pacin’, for my safety—she’s praying,

And yet you call me racist? You wanna trap me with your phone?

I’m just a man with a badge trying my best to make it home.

 

We all BRUISE,

It’s that black and blue

A dream deferred,

Nightmare come true

In another man’s shoes,

Walk a mile or two

Might learn a couple things

I’m no different than you!