Deep by Kesau’c N. Hill

People say, “Sas, you’re deep!”

Though I consider shit deeply, deep

isn’t what I consider myself when I’m

delving deeply into me.


It took concrete walls for me to see

that deep in the bowls of something of

hell is where GOD made me.

Out of a family member, a gang

member and somebody’s baby.


Delving deep into hopes I couldn’t see

while living savagely still, I had a small

hope that HE’D forgiven me; INTENSE,

became faith in me because HE had

faith in me.


That small hope proceeded CHANGE in

me but some others sought out hanging

My enemies feared the change in me

and hit me with all kind of things but found

me to be some other thing.


A warrior in the cause of GOD’S other thing,

broke the chains of that other thing to find

that DREAMS were the realist thing, do you

know what I mean? It’s deep, see?


Like actually touching insanity and catching

its kiss creativity; are you reading what GOD

has given me? A killer but HE’S still loving me,

is a concept too deep for you to see, but I’m

sensing something great in me despite the

hate and rage in me.


A man-child with prison bars hugging me,

fed the bread of hatred but my mother

nurtured love in me, so I can give two dams

about a devil loving me or a blind opinion

bugging me.


It’s obvious HE has a job for me despite all

of my religious infidelities; I just hope I’m up

for the job, you see? Because I know about

all the bullshit in me like I know just how

bad shit can be. I mean, really!


The struggle and pain is the depth you see

but it goes far deeper than the depth you

see. Therefore, you consider me with attempts

to imagine what they’ve done to me so

suspiciously you glance at me then say aloud,

“Sas, you’re deep!”


© Kesau’c N. Hill

Serengeti Noise

Excerpt from his book Serengeti Noise

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16797883_740202076158170_3350406013219101455_oAbout the Author

Kesau’c N. Hill is an ex-gang member who, at the age of sixteen, was convicted of murder and sentenced to serve 15-years to Life in the California Department of Corrections. Fighting became a lifestyle that would accompany the gang world deathstyle. However, he would soon be mentored by an English teacher named John Murphy who saw past his tough guy exterior into something explosively creative.

He introduced him to the art of poetry and the power of the spoken word. He’d use that power to his advantage when his life serving Life became too difficult to bear. By defiantly writing poetry all over his prison cell walls “meaning” and “Passion” was discovered, hope and a sound vision was realized. Quite literally, poetry saved his life.

Visit Kesau’c Hill’s Author Page At

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