Below are entries of all of the poetry recited by Arnold "Poet" Jackson.
S01.E01: "The Routine"
Subject: Character Introduction
I coulda sworn I seen the motherfucker in my cell, going through my personal effects
He fingers, fingering my cigarettes
Came out like nothing was happening whistling his tune
So I mushed his ass, like, "Move, motherfucker, make room!"
"Hey, ain't that my cigarette hanging off the tip of your lip?"
I didn't even give him a chance for any confession
Just leveled his ass with all that aggression
Left, right, to the dolex
Foots to the chest
Uppercuts to the grill
I'm like "Kill!"
He's like "Chill!"
Take that for even being in this place
Take that for that fucking CO baton across my face
Feel that for that lawyer who don't give two fucks about me
And feel this, feel this for me being enslaved by poverty, motherfucker
Gimme them damn cigarettes
Oh, these are Marlboros
I don't smoke these.
S01.E06: "To Your Health"
Subject: Tits (Heroin).
Son, come on son
Let me squeeze them titties
I been fiending for this freedom
I been begging for the beat
I been jonesing for the jump over the wall
But all I keep coming back to is them titties
Round and firm, for the vein burn
I keep bugging over the reasons
For this shit I yearn
Years in this piece got me
Wanting the shit that I unlearned
Got me wanting to block it out
Forget about
Erase it from my think.
S01.E07: "Plan B"
Subject: Poverty.
Kidnap the President's wife without a plan
Kidnap the President's wife without a plan
Yeah, I got a plan
It's etched with a knife in the center of my hand
So I guess I'm gonna have to keep my fist clenched
Walk around DC in the rain 'til my wares is drenched
Wait for that motherfucker to take out the garbage
Do a press conference about what great shape this country in
And when them welfare cuts gonna begin
And when he pat his dog and kiss his wife goodbye
That's when I move in
I throw that silly ho in a headlock
I muffle her grill so her screams stop
I whisper to her, "Your man ain't here to protect you, baby. He gone."
I dial up my nigga, O-North
Tell him to meet me with the Caddy on the white lawn
I toss her in the backseat
Cover her head with a black sheet
Put the steel in her grill piece
Be like, "If you don't shut up, I'll gonna do shots off in your dome piece."
Watch her have fits
If she don't understand I'm gonna give her a quick lesson in Ebonics
"I'm a shoot you, baby."
I take her to my hideout in the low income houses down the street
I replace her Joan and Davis with purple Reeboks on her feet
I give her 4 hungry kids, no job, no ambition
No family support and a last welfare check
I give her crappy ass Medicaid and a ill type of growth growing out the side of her neck
I tell her, "Fend for yourself. Keep you in them shorties and proper health."
After sufficient time on that hype
I'll introduce her to the crack pipe
Yeah, I'll let her feel its soothing effects
As she tries to forget about the absence of them checks
I'll make her sell her jewels for it
I make her pay the dues for it
And then I'll come to her late at night
And I'll be like, "Yo, everything ain't gonna be all right.
You ain't gonna be able to go quietly in that good night
Peace ain't gonna come 'til your death be done."
And then I'll lead her up to the roof
And I'll show her all the shit she don't own
I'll lead her over to the edge
And leave her there all alone.
S02.E02: "Ancient Tribes"
Subject: Criminals.
I gotta keep away from these motels
These cockroach motels
But I ain't going out like that
You see, us cockroaches, we been around since the beginning of time
Now I let loose on a little bit of crime, look
These motherfucking motels makers, they shook
But I ain't getting caught
I ain't from the silly sort who venture too far from the nest
And can't touch some sand
I gotta play the deep dog low level funk for a sec, though
Illie-ill shit, get that mental inject.
S02.E03: "Great Men"
Subject: Bad Days.
Life frustrated me the other day
Pushed all my wrong buttons
So I bit its ear off
Pushed it up against the rope
Told it stop, stop fucking headbutting me
When the refs ain't looking
I threw my, threw my hands around its neck
Told it, stop, stop fucking yelling at me
Or I start hooking
Threw my shape to the dope
Told it, stop fucking playing me
'Fore I start juking
I got too many rope burns around my neck
Too many cotton cuts in my fingernails
I spent thousands of years, thousand of years
Old people shit
I ain't even do nothing wrong
Old people shit
I didn't even know what's wrong
Old people shit
Know what I'm saying?
S02.E04: "Losing Your Appeal"
Subject: Emerald City.
The inside of my cell
See me be seduced by its serenity
In my search for privacy
Behind the locked cages
The makers of the rules rise
But peace dies
Curses is kisses
And adoration is disses
In this beautifully disgusting place
Where I see my forever
Call it Emerald City...
S02.E05: "Family Bizness"
Subject: Incarceration.
Too many prisons and not enough schools
Too many weapons and not enough tools
Not enough teachers, too many fools
But me, I'm from where fights is born
I'm from where nights is dawn
I'm from the ingredients spit from the sun
I formed an allegience with the number one
The letter A
The beginning of the day
The way, the wisdom, the wish, the will
The river, the tree, the try, the trek
The rub of the neck
The ball of the foot
The back of the thigh
The glimmer of their eye
Appeared at what it's intrigued by
Tried by what it's believed by
I have taken on the likeness of love
The harbor of hate
The hell of here
And the wonder of the whereafter
I've discerned the disaster
And drank Dom Perignon and armagedd-ion
I have drank the sacred ambrosia
Housed in the chalice of the rebellion
Cherubim, disguised as quarter juices
I have died toothless and been reborn 144,000 times
I've got 144,000 rhymes for every brain cell
But I waste away in a cell.
S03.E05: "U.S. Male"
Subject: Kareem Saïd.
That's it
I figured you easy
All you wanna do is eat a double mccheesy
Capitalize and get me some unsalted fries.
See, fucking America been in your eyes for more than four hundred fifty years
And now you wanna hide your tears
In your so-called Allah-given mission to help your brothers
Well Allah gave me a vision and I'm gonna tell all the others
Talking 'bout revolution
What I saw, that was revelation
You frolicking with the devil's maiden
Now you happy 'cause now you can manipulate her think
Well, I'm gonna put you onto something while we locked up here in this clink
While you trying to get us all into the Heaven above
When she forget about your contradictorial ass
Make sure you hide them bloody gloves.