Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Life & Liberty

He came to the door often enough
asking for sandwiches and water and other stuff
but that wasn't the point was it?
in fact he could be any number of children
at any number of doors in any number of cities
but he was at my door, in this city
so what could I do but pour a glass of water
and his eyes would be on my back
burning into me, not with hate or anger
but with a unspoken need, a quiet hunger
that raged beneath too thin arms
which hung off the too short torso
of a too small young man
and there at the doorway i would stand
awash in the cacophonous sounds of a city
sirens and screams, overplayed radio hits
and the lone wail of a child
but this is civilization
thank God we marched out of the wild untamed world
we made it our own and in a glorious era
have we not become masters of our existence
 and who is the face of the beautiful light
who is the lamp which shines out into the looming night?
is it not the nation who leads the fight
where women are beautiful and the children bright
or they were once
beauty has been has been replaced with cruel plastic facades
and the children weren't left behind but pushed over a precipice
launched into a cross between huxley's oblivious world
and an orwellian lie of a government
and those who hold the whip in their trotters
serve themselves alone and we are but meat for the fodder
 I think of all this
of the injustice of the world
and the yawning void outside my door
all present in the hunger of this kids eyes
and I want to slam the door and run
hide myself behind a mixed media shield
one part game one part  television on part program
hang my self on my cable connection
then cut the cord and I could say look ma, I've gone wireless
more like we've gone spineless
 as a generation so caught up in our own witticisms
that instead of standing up for something we slouch down
and collectively ask the world
"you mad bro?"
well they should be mad
and so should we,
cause there is no reason for kids to need
no reason they should sit in the street and bleed
but here have some social security
a societal band aid for the booboo
maybe this little first aid kit will stem the arterial flow
but if that doesnt work put his hand over his heart
apply pressure and tell him to pledge
cause he's got the right to life and liberty
but let us not forget the pursuit of happiness
we'll hunt that bastard down
pin it to the ground
and force it to omit and admit
that we are the free world



Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Not a Poet

I would like to call myself poet
I would like to drop verses and let the world know it
But I feel like I'm not worthy
Like there's too much more to see
Like in just 16 years
I haven't faced the fears 
Or shed the tears 
Like in just 16 years I haven't lived enough
Haven't really ever had it rough
Never had to be that tough
Sure I was never rich but I was never poor
Maybe American poor but not world poor 
And I'm sure beggars and wraiths could let their words pour
They've lived the real life
They've faced true strife
So I can string together rhymes
And I can write lines and lines
But were I to write until the end of time
The title poet never would be mine

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Grown Up

This world is bleeding
There's no line between wanting and needing
Always some new hate breeding
Some new rage to be seeding
New lies to be reading 
New rules to be heeding
And you have got to get growing
Cause your youth it is showing 
And the winds of change are blowing
Aint it time you got going 
Cause there are things that need knowing
Broken hearts that need towing
Angry seeds that need unsewing 
And it's all up to you
In your raggedy shoes 
As you hum the blues 
And count in twos
The lies that you choose
To believe
And what will you do when they leave?
How much weight can you heave
Which explanations will you weave
What heights will you achieve
Whose heart will you deceive 
Cause you can't remain naive
You gotta get real
Forget how to feel
Learn how to deal
Which words will seal
And allow you to reel
In the fools and cowards
From their ivory towers
Cause your words carry powers
And sweet things have finally soured
Bright eyes now glower 
At you from across the table
You were once so able 
But now you're stuck with that label
And maybe your life is a fable
A lesson for children to learn
An example of what happens to those who spurn
Those stride forward when told to turn
Those who rise only to fall from grace 
And it's a bit late for you to save face
You can't even slow the pace 
So with your admissions make haste
Say you had but a taste 
Say son life's just race
So you can't be a waste
And gears begin to turn again
And maybe he'll make things like they were back then