I stare; a blank expression of full confusion,
music blasting above the words, I feel the Ghetto
movement and my upper class back caves into
my frugal childhood...
those times when it was all good, because
we just woke up, no need to desire having
nothing more than tap water in our rusty old cups,
boxspring gymnastics and go‑kart races; first place
for the blue milk Kart;
our spirits were healthier and our souls were
so focused, so pure, so brand new/
Now the race to survive the things we bring on ourselves,
sickness infiltrates internal organs,
because there is no acceptance
without some reference
to one's economical wealth;
we can sit here and pretend its not important
but I've lived on both sides and people see you different,
which is a huge shame within itself,
no remedy for this self affliction,
we will all die trying to get there, when getting there
is just an internal healing, for external pains...
love plays a big part in this,
but our tongues should be cut out
for some of the things we think of doing;
he is good enough to lay with, you swear you love him, yet
create his baby, sneak away
and do what you need to do with it; no one but you and Jesus
will ever really know, right?
knowing they carry diseases,
they just want to be in on the pleasing,
but act like you
should have known better,
since you only met a few times;
I kind of agree with that sometimes;
women tramp as much as men do,
but we have to take care of ourselves twice, because he might leave you with much more
than just a climax and a dent in your heart/
dont want to keep preaching, but I had to express this part,
see, my soul is distracted, because I've been doing this writing thing for a long, long time and
I dont see enough progress in our people, so I wonder
if its really the answer;
can we write a cure for cancer
if we are writing for much more
than a pat on the back?
Where is the spiritual floacist at?
Did she die inside to sins of
this temporary space?
my soul is distracted, and I am too full to know
what peace feels like at this time....
and so I write................