Poetry and Creative Writing for All

Callum Lee Krzysik

Waiting for Biography ...

The Hooded Man

If I could describe a thousand lives,
a thousand ways and means,
Describe the way that people work,
To fly high amongst their dreams,
There is just one life to describe,
The one of which is mine,
With sex and drugs and rock and roll,
Amongst a sea of crime.

I’m dark and gloomy as you see,
A handsome man, a troubled man
But a face that shines with glee
My head concealed underneath the hood,
I live my life through drugs and crime,
I do not work, I do not graft, for I do not have the time.

My hands are weak, my face is young
Play sport no? Go school no? my rep I have to mention,
For I am the hood, the powerful hood,
The one who seeks attention.
My days, my friends, my life all stays the same,
I enjoy my life, I love my life,
For to me it is a game.

As I awake out of my box,
And glare into the light,
My family are just standing there,
for now, this can’t be right!
My mother looks upset, my father acts all weary.
”Yo mum its me your precious son”
It must be a dream,
Where is my gun?

I give up now and lay to rest,
For this is an illusion.
The bullet marks that scatter my chest,
I've come to this conclusion.

I close my eyes, lay down my knife,
For this is the end of my beautiful life,
A hood I am, and a hood ill be,

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