Please activate JavaScript!
Please install Adobe Flash Player, click here for download
ePaper created 2015-02-22, 17:33:25 | version 1.33.01
My hands are not my arm. My dick is not my head. Our bodies are not force field shields Protecting us from phone checks, or barber seat checks Or Bank of America freedom checks. I am not rubber. I am not glue. We are not equals, And it pleases me too… Much to know that… I am not you. You are not my forefathers. And I am not your son. It also pleases me to know that when all is said yet nothing’s done, I am no reflection of your“drink 30 of your 40 talented 10th club” I am no scrub Fake thug either But if it makes you feel lighter I’ll be a faggot, I’ll be a dyke, I’ll be a nigger and all the ignorance that you like But why can’t I be me? Why can’t we be us? Outside of getting in having to bust.. Caps in doors left a gap, But this is not a complaining poem. It’s not that. It’s my addiction, non-fiction, A cure for my affliction. It’s a caged bird’s jubilant dream. Bloodied wing, broken, can’t fly. Apathy leaves a note like“tomor- row we’ll try.” “That’s right bitch keep trying,” Complacency teases,“you’ll never start flying.” But this isn’t my melancholy melody murmured into mud. I’d owe this world a rainbow to follow my flood, And all ignorance will die; But this isn’t my “how I would take them out in a blink of an eye”premeditated poem. My“fuck this shit, I can’t take no more poem.” It’s nothing. Mere words spilled onto pages. If I told you that this was a“fuck the man reparations poem” Would we then divorce our cages? Would that insight rages? Riots? Wars? Getting even, but even when we get even there are forces that subtract. I mustn’t react to how uncivilized they act. Little people don’t exist, until they display BIG asses for evil to kiss. But this… is not my Mississippi Goddamn,We Shall Overcome. Must find new ways for it all has been done and too much has been said. Too many words, dreams delivered dead But this is not my“what happens to a dream differed?” It’s my“what the fuck is a brother to do?” “They’re killing us all.” “We’re killing us all.” Young gifted and black boys… young gifted and black boys… young gifted and black boys and girls with no silver spoon song and you better listen!!! NOT-A-COMPLAINING POEMBY LARRY “L.DUB” WALKER 43 URBANSOCIALITES.COM