Forty ounce
Old English 800
mixed with
piña colada
Now and laters
Chico sticks
Latin quarters
roof top
3 times dope
and
Father MC
Skate key
10 cent Loosie
8 ball jackets
Cazels
sheepskins
And
My adidas
Run DMC
captured on maxell
With red rec and
Play buttons
Depressed with
Atomic precision
Fat laces
And
Lee patches
Biggie smalls
And rappers delight
Spoony G
And scot-la roc …….

When 
I tell her tales
of my youth
Will it 
matter
Will it
Spark any
semblance
of meaning
Will she 
relate to
things 
as
real to her
as
Dinosaurs
World trade 
and World wars
Will she
Grasp how
these were 
the Battles 
and
Serenades
That invented
Her daddy
That her 
Sassy 
is remnants of 
her mom
and a slip tongue
Father with
Ya mama
Jokes 
delivered 
On queue
Like ammunition 
will she know
That
A black 
President 
was a dream
That once 
never made
It to Narnia
Nor fairy tales
There
Was no
Hello kitty
Dora 
Or peppa pigs
Distilling 
a commercial 
morality with
their own brand 
of Narcotic 

She will
never wonder
If the white house
Is simply a
refurbished 
Auction block
My worries
Will be
Her 
Hakuna matata
So
What 
will
I leave for her
amidst
all these
over satiated 
Appetites

Will she know
I cry in my sleep
at nightmares that
Draw swords 
at dreams of
being a good father
to her

I try to write
myself into 
this world
for her
as nothing is
promised
Tomorrow is
already written
and even
Spirits have 
outstanding 
loans to repay
So I need to 
prescribe 
to her 
the things
I can’t pronounce
In poems
stories
and sit downs

Been
Trying to find 
A way to predict 
her footsteps
since her
Mother’s waddle
But now
She runs 
and hops
through digital
moments
So quickly
I can’t keep up

Want to
Freeze Frame 
her innocent 
to email and leave 
waiting in
her inbox
when life
peer pressures
sit atop her 
foundation 
Pulling at fissures
that society is
sure to open 
I wish
my past
enough
passion
to glue them
Silent 

I want
To know which
Mistake
Will be the 
Invisible 
paint to cover
the exposed
parts of 
her armor 
What piece of 
myself do I leave
for her 
and what 
she should never 
uncover

Im scared 
of what
to unravel 
from nursery rhymes 
to gently mimic 
the potential
hurt that may 
await her
Precious
So 
she will 
be ready 
recover
and Evolve
the Poison

I’m just plain
Scared that 
A book
And and few
Stanzas
Bitten into blank
pages
Don’t seem 
near enough
The legacy she needs
I wonder if
the DNA alone
Is enough
Do I smile
Enough for her
To know she
makes even
my face happier 
Kiss her 
enough to Seesaw 
her wants
and a sense 
of worth
level enough
Such that 
she values 
possession vs.necessity
With the right 
Balance

I know
I can be 
hard skin
petrified 
snake venom 
But I hope 
I don’t leave 
to much 
Bite
be behind 
to scar her 
small embrace
But just enough
to coat
any little fuker 
with a spiders 
web tongue
with
Bee sting
numbness 

I know we have
many years
before I need 
to answer 
all these questions
But I need it
Done right
because as you 
Know
by now
Your daddy loves
perfection

Just 
look in the mirror

Poem: Legacy
By: Tshaka Campbell
Location: UK
Twitter: @Pappatshak