there is a calming effect
as i sit and sip
no matter the location
contemplating life
and trying to find motivation
it is this calming effect
that fills me with hope
as i add milk and honey
and realize that even in the dead of night
life can still be pretty sunny
this calming effect
has lead me to believe
my life would be incomplete
with out a nice cup of tea
I wake up each morning with this word
It is often unheard
I have doubts about a lot of things
But it helps just to sing
I have doubts about the existence of a higher power
I don't worry about, I'd rather take a shower
After I graduate I want to go to college
My parents don't make a lot of money
I have to pick up the pieces, I have to acknowledge
I doubt things will get better
But what do I know, maybe life will get better
Trying to keep smiling, trying to stay optimistic
My views on life aren't very realistic
When things get better, I will shout
But this thing distracts me getting goals done
Doubt
Warning bell: battle cry.
We’ve seen it all before.
There is the gunshot.
Gunman - eyes bloodshot - we all march.
Our death march.
Gun rains fire in the hallway.
Let me knock on my senator’s door today.
And see the corner of an AR-15 peek out
from the inside of his wallet.
I called it
The same way the ghost of these victims call you.
What a roaring.
I’m stuck in a place with white faces and a black backdrop, green trees and blue skies. Trying my very best to find a place to fit in, only to find that I stick out. Reading books written by white people, yet you want to understand the black perspective. You want to take a peek into my world but you’re scared to step into this place, filled with real emotions, true issues and a food stamp card. Dilapidated houses, broken homes, fatherless children, single mothers and rap music. That’s all you think we consist of isn’t? You see some may call me ignorant, while others will call me lucky being able to grow up in a place where color was never an issues because everyone looked like you and then you get to college and you look around wondering what the fuck is up, in a room of 35 I’m one, in class room of 10 I am one, the one that they ask questions, observe and try their best to figure out. Accommodating, twisting, turning, and bending over backwards toning myself down just build you up. Remembering I grew up in a place where people looked like me, acted like me, talk liked me, yet I was different. I was odd then, and they told me I acted white and talk that way too because I reached out to grab the dream I was after, my dream now turned into reality, here I am and I’m just a bit too black to handle, too loud, too boisterous, and I guess I have too much to say, so you stopped listening, this must be how a Dalmatian feels, a white dog with black spots, help me understand where it is I belong too, because I don’t fit here with you, yes color is an issue but I never assumed it would be a problem. Being the one thing that continues to change in an environment consistently filled with bullshit. Could you handle this? Now we could pretend that you understand or you could just admit that you don’t know. You can call me controversial, tell me I do things that are a bit taboo, but what does any of that have to do with you, when did it become your concern to worry about me, my body or what I do with it. Did I say something to make you mad or did you decide to just shut the fuck up, because you realized that my actions will speak louder than my words and I’m not talking as much. I’m stuck in a place with white faces and I serve as the black back drop, the things I’m about to do will certainly make your heart drop. Treating this place as a blank canvas because I’m about to paint this whole town red.
Through the silence I hear the screams
A picture of a perfect family lying in a broken frame
A lifetime of happiness
A lifetime of lies
"If possible I never would have married him"
Mother says through the tears
If possible I would go back
Back to bedtime stories
Dinner as a family
Back to tearless night
I wish I never looked behind the closed doors
I let loose the hidden monsters
I let secrets run free
Now our perfect family has become a shattered mystery
We are broken
Trying to pick up the pieces I am only left cut
You see us from the surface of who you want us to be
Maybe your perseption would change if only you could see
If only you could see us behind closed doors
Find me, look for me
Catch me but don't intergate me
I did nothing wrong and yet you glare at me
Thinking I commited another common crime
I AM... in denial
I cannot face your acknowledging truth
I do not need you to tell me "I am one of them"
I have to confess to what I have done
But you leave me no choice to do so
I AM... in denial
The simple insanity of this crime
You will not forgive me if I convert completely
What many others have done successfully
Is what I admit that I am after
Forgive me, myself
For going against your ultimate rule
And what you consider a sin
The crime of becoming... normal
Wrong words in wrong times
Lost a friend, I lost a life
Time to say goodbye
I have a person in mind while I write this poem
She battled cancer for years and at first she won
But like the return of a storm and the vengeance of a brother,
when it came around again it overcame and overtook her.
So this is for you, I know you can see me from up high
I have finally found my chance to properly say goodbye.
I remember on the porch when we played those games
It was humid and it was hot and it was pouring rain
The pitter-patter on the roof was some kind of background noise
as we pulled out new playthings and brought out new toys
You were still a child at heart and you embraced it fully
(even though your siblings thought you to be unruly)
But after a while I saw the method to the madness
since your big goofy smile left no room for any sadness.
I didn't get to go back South when they said your time was running thin
I had to hear by word of mouth when the sickness took it's chance to win
I still have the drum they gave me when you died
My momma said you'd want me to have it, after she said that, she cried
I know it's your's because it's so your style
Though actually bringing myself to play it took me a while
But now that I'm stronger, holding it brings me more joy than pain
Because I play it when the storms roll by, and I play it to the rain
The elderly woman was wrinkled and withered
Just as the fruit she would have delivered.
Packed in her purse were little candy mints,
As pink as her cheeks rosy tints.
Eighty-two years young
Was shown in the strength of her lungs;
But as many believed she is a poor old woman,
Mary Jean was able to conceal her inhuman.
Her husband's coffin was buried days ago,
Making her a widow to John Doe.
But behind her sappy love story,
There was persistence for glory.
Beatened, batterned and coaxed,
Her life was all but a hoax.
Through the pain in her bust
She had to learn how to trust,
The open arms there for an embrace,
For women deserve to be filled with grace.
I walk into your classroom
Im very happy with my day
When i see your fucked up grin
Fathers hide your daughters away
The worst part is you work here
You cant even teach your subject
But for some reason the princible holds you dear
Women arent your pawns
The girls are not your sex toys
If you get the wrong idea
You will answer to us boys
I will see you gone this year
Yes i have finaly got you now
No more girls will ever have to live in fear
