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Florence made it easy
to sing a somber note,
I’ve scratched off my eyelids-
I hate each song I wrote.
I hear twisted words
Like leaves on a vine.
Words jumbled through punctured ears,
Words people dine
upon.
Vicious, rapid, jumbled they sing.
They catch a flying bird
And twist its wing
With 1800 hands
in my mind,
I carved initials into my eyes.
I turned down my volume
to see vernacular art,
Blinking morse code the way to my heart,
Only to hear you squeak:
Because I love you...
I make bad choices.
Because I love you...
I am blind, but.
Because I love you,
I am happy.
I am no longer confused,
my path is made clear.
Because I love you...
Because I love you...
I make bad choices.
Because I love you...
I am blind, but.
Because I love you,
I am happy.
I am no longer confused,
my path is made clear.
Because I love you...
Thousands of faces
the smog blurs
empty stomachs moan
which soot coated hands cover
I'm laying on broken concrete
staring at the starless sky
they cover my ears so I don't hear their cries
the years seem to drag by at first.
we seem to travel in a warp that intends on our day's lasting eternitys
that trickel of life runs into a stream, everything starts to speed up and everyone is living, breathing, THRIVING.
I am a woman with a vision.
A vison so clear that I will break through all barriers to reach.
I am a student.
Despite all prejudements, I have made it to Howard University.
I am a daughter.
My skin is the skin that God put me in on the day that was the day of the 17th in the month of November the year being the one-thousand nine-hundred nintey-seventh year Anno Domini....
300 years of slavery,
300 years in chains,
One hundred years of bravery,
This finally led to change.
Fifty years later followed Obama’s campaign,
Somehow we are still scared from all the previous pain,
Cancer strikes without a sound,
My friends life was laid down.
Not to see a day past sixteen,
So much talent was left unseen.
I hugged his mom as she cried.
Watching everyone say their goodbyes.
It's just for practice. Made for perfect.Clock the time, that's for working.Play the game call it sporting.Mail it in, importing.Pressing concern, important.
Do your do now, sit down, don't talk, be the perfect student they see.
But in my mind all I want to do is scream!
Teachers feel they have so much superior over me.
Telling me what to say.
Where to go.
They bullied him because he was different
Stating that he isn’t full grown
Because he likes science while they play sport
They never treated him like one of their own
The teachers don’t notice a thing
You teach your numbers, you read your words
You reiterate when nothing is heard,
A tender intimacy fills the room as you stroll with modesty
A charming chuckle exits your mouth as you fault, as you fault, as you fault
Grades are good but I mean there is no other choice.
Academics are basically your only voice.
The only way to be heard in such a loud world.
A world where geniuses are born with a GPA higher than yours.
Death he is a warrior,
charging head-on men of great strength and valor.
Death he is a coward,
Reaping youth of no accomplishment or stature.
