Poetry: Sista Lyric (@SistaLyric) ‘Risk’

I’ve nev­er done this before,

I take on a new role

I’m on a roll with try­ing to roll up a sheet of white, filling its insides like filling my mind with this high to help me for­get why.

I was shy — I tried — I took a risk.

But there’s no room for a shy one; the shy one is homeless.

There’s no room, for a shy one; the shy one is homeless.

She is sat in three-degree cold on her Mrs Jack Jones;

That she is me.

Plonked out­side of ‘Hayes station,’

goose bumps rising to the occa­sion and my will to live becomes inpatient.

See, I was to blame and…

I was ashamed and…

Felt I was going insane because of this soarded game that we pick up the phone and call, “life.”

I don’t want no responsibilities!

I’d rather use my abil­it­ies to cre­ate new facil­it­ies for people like me, who once had no oppor­tun­it­ies to shine bright­er than a siren.

But let’s not pretend.

I once was that broken light — past tense.

All because I had fuse of a mid­gets height — no offence.

You see, you can either live a life in the industry or live a life in the streets.

and I don’t mean liv­ing a road man’s dream and start­ing up a “ghetto-team.”

I mean, the dif­fer­ence between hav­ing a warm shoulder to lean in com­par­is­on to your cheek on freez­ing slabs of concrete.

We are mean’t to live the life we get give but we aren’t the ones liv­ing it.

And all this back-chat, spoken-word, we can­’t be giv­ing it.

Cos’ we get silenced with a tazer, some­times until death do you part.

And they won’t stop till they’ve stopped your heart.

Again, life is mean’t to live but we ain’t the ones liv­ing it

Cos we got strangers telling us what time to be who? what? and where?

Strangers pulling us to the side, up against wall and diving into our pock­ets straight through the tear.

They don’t care.

Strangers approach­ing what we call “home” and telling us we’ve got five minutes to go.

“I’ll tell you exactly where to go!”

I began this whole tiff with rolling up a spliff and inhal­ing at least a fifth before I set adrift into let­ting this ink get pampered.

I left home with a blue biro and someones just thrown down an even­ing standard.

Finally, some­where that had space for me.

I’ve nev­er done this before.

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Rishma

Edit­or / PR Con­sult­ant at No Bounds

Rishma Dhali­w­al has extens­ive exper­i­ence study­ing and work­ing in the music and media industry. Hav­ing writ­ten a thes­is on how Hip Hop acts as a social move­ment, she has spent years research­ing and con­nect­ing with artists who use the art form as a tool for bring­ing a voice to the voiceless.

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