___The Creed of A Graffiti Writer
We strike at night
the streets of New York
is our canvas
We hide in the shadows
when the pig patrol strolls by
the moon gives us our
only source of light
We are The Addicts of Aerosol
The Krylon Can Clan
The Rusto Patrol
We are the German tip spraying
backpack wearing
black book carrying
magnum pilot tagging
the wack toy buffers
We are The Brigade of Bombers
mounting on our midnight mission
of colorized madness
the color blending
spray paint and
mind melding maniacs
We are the ghetto Picassos
the modern day Matisses
the artistic Shakespeares
that tear white walls in half
We are The Street Canvas Killers
with one quick splat
of an ultra flat black
with silver outlines and
yellow highlights perfected
during 3 a.m. night skylines
We are the crews that redecorate
building walls with wildstyles
burning people's imagination
with motions of the can
the walls wailed words of life
through sight of krylon colors
on the streets of New York
We bomb city blocks
rocking throw-ups on top
of window sills
while standing on top of
garbage cans
We are the ones who set
Bronx-Brooklyn expeditions
in traditions of nomads
We go where no man's can
has sprayed on walls before
We are the underground tunnel turnstile
hoppers that bomb
posters with one light being our guide
Our names are found on
high rises and highways
bridges and building roofs
We are The Bandits of Burners
our plans are waterproof
shockproof and foolproof
We are The Tye Dye Tone
Tint Marauders that write
Graffiti Manifestos
on black walls with
a silver Uni, SG-7 and
white pentel markers
We mark the many lands
and train stations
Our tags rag black books and cardboard
Scratched on windows and train doors
stickers slapped over any motherfucker
you had beef with
only in self-defense
We are The Graffiti Gurus
that spray silver spots on blackness
that become stars on the walls of galaxies
We gaze at our glossy words
and lose ourselves in arrows and 3-D shadows
We are The 12oz Prophets
that write prophecies with
our hieroglyphics that help
humans understand us
It is simply the love
of seeing our name on the wall
It is the symbolic value
of feeling important in a world
we are lost in
It is the outlet that introduces
art into our way of thinking
We wear baggy jeans
hat to the back
and army fatigues
when we venture on our
trip of blending bombing wonderland
The street is our canvas
when art brushes and stencils
dont matter only liquitechs and spraypaint
the toxic aroma that entered our bloodstream
on nights when we froze our fingertips
writing upside down with the can
when finishing a powerhouse
Feel the wrath of Graff
when society calls us
vandals and delinquents
Thats why your child wants
to be just like us
we bomb your door to tell
you our name
Its a shame you erased our
high rise artistic motion trains:
the Far Rockaway - Lefferts A
the outside D, B, and Q in Brooklyn
the Coney Island F
the Canarsie - Broadway Junction L
the J, M, and the Z
over the Williamsburg Bridge
the N and the R in Astoriz, Queens
the 1 and the 9 in Washington Heights
the 2 and the 5 in the Bronx
the New Lots 3
the Jerome 4
the Westchester 6
and the Flushing purple 7 train
Now we reign on your law
the Ink Scribe scribbles on your forehead
then pronounces you hip hoply dead
the 4th son of Hip Hop
overshadowed by
technic table microphones
and Puma gray suede complexion tone
There is no Hip Hop without
Graffiti only Rap
so we wrap our hands
around cans becoming one
our motions are studied
by plagiarist anthropologists
making money off our art
the spirits on clean canvas can
be hazardous to minds
when eyes cant understand
the buck wildstyle alphabet
sunrises call for travels
homeward bound
We are the ones that make
the clickclakclikclakclikclakclikclak
sound with the can on new land
when a tag could get our asses shot
We are the artistic poets
that perform magic with spraypaint
and just call ourselves writers
Graffiti Writers.
-- Bonafide Rojas
I live by that yo
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Originally Posted by FunkSoul
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