Work

Nobody explains the difference
between achievement and persistence
to you when you're young.
Yet everyone's dumbfounded
when we grow up and are astounded
that our dreams don't just roll off the tongue.
We weren't taught to appreciate what we've got
Or if we did, we forgot
Do you know how much work it takes to
produce that diamond?
First they find it, then mine it
then ship it to the manufacturer
Who spends the time to coax the glitter out
of lumpy coal
And yet, all you do is go down to the store.
Do we even remember hard work?
Long days? Uncertain futures?
The only uncertainty now is what we'll spend our
next paycheck on
The realities of life are gone
Lost, to a past that never appealed to our
short-attention-span, Veruca-Salt generation.
And this gap isn't confined to just our nation
It envelops the concentration, or lack thereof,
on a scale of globalization
We're not perched on a precipice
We dove right in
And it's no longer a matter of whether you can
sink or swim
It's whether or not you can come out ahead
of her, or him
By any and all means necessary
Shove the others underwater, show no mercy,
no compassion
While you use them to float
Maybe it's a crime of passion
But the passionate have built a better boat
And they're working their way out of these
tributaries of selfishness and greed
Filled with those wanting so badly to achieve
That they've forgotten the best way to succeed
Is to let your hard work take the lead.
And they scream as those who built themselves a better way
Sail on to uncertain, yet hopeful, futures.

Mean Women Poets

You poor, disenfranchised men
Thinking you're gettin pushed around by
all these women
Thinking all this male hating, man bashing
shit is brand new
Well I got news for you
The women of old must have been new, too.

MLK Day

The people say why.
Why is there an entire day to idolize
And I just roll my eyes
Because there's nothing wrong with an entire day to glamorize
A man much larger than his size
A man who never tried to victimize
Or tell his people lies
And still, they ask, why.

I'm not trying to sound contrived or
unscrupulous
But there's only a select few of us
who got their own holidays in the U.S.
And one of those was Columbus
and I don't see you making nearly as big of a fuss
Cause the post office is closed for the man
Who mistakenly stumbled upon this land
Then, over the centuries, caused it to crumble
As his people rumbled with the native people
Who couldn't even mumble a word in protest.
Yet Columbus has his own day of rest?

Then consider all the holidays we got
Commemorating the veterans and the
wars they fought
And the holidays commemorating generals like
Washington
So why exclude the one who led the march on
Washington?
Fighting a brutal, bloody and centuries-long war
While half the people didn't know what he was
fighting for
And was gunned down before knowing the score
One day off of school?
Martin Luther King, Jr., deserves all that,
and more.

There U Go Again

There u go again, giving me the puppy-dog eyes
There u go again, telling me u apologize
And there I go, believing your lies
Thinking this time, you'll try and be better
And whether or not you will has been answered time after
time after time: You won't.
So don't think by now I'm oblivious
Your tired old game is far from mysterious
You'll go to the bar, get drunk, drive home and try to
start some shit
But I hate to verbally spar with someone who's barely
aware of it
I'd rather u think out your points rationally, and
rational means sober
So move the fuck over, I'm tired of waiting for u to
get older
I've heard all your excuses, and you still need to
grow up
Tell me when you sober up that you'll quit.
I've heard that shit too many times
There u go again, biding your time
Until I start believing you've miraculously stopped on a dime
And my trust in you is restored
That's when I hear that key scraping the door
What will it be tonight? I think. Less, or more?
There I go again, thinking you've changed.
Thinking you're just being strange, instead of
exactly the same.
In the morning, you say, "I'm sorry. Don't cry."
There we go again, and I don't know why.

I B That Poet (2nd revision)

I B that poet
I B that hot tip in your arsenal of arrows
Shooting verse on the straight and narrow
Amz for the bullseye, and I'll be on target
I B that poet.
I B that one who amz higher with her words,
amz deeper with her message
but never amz below the belt
I B that poet
I B that one staring, awestruck, toward the heavens
While atop my car in the parking lot of a 7/11
Amz 4 the moon, and I might land among the stars
I B that poet.
I B that one who amz for something she can't reach easy
Who steps out of her comfort zone, but doesn't get too cheesy
No longer A-M-I-E, but A-M-Z
I B that writer by day, by night and while sleeping
Always on the move like a lover who's creepin'
And most of the time,you should know I'm just teasin'
But I always amz to bring the message to the people,
and the people to the message
I B that poet, and Amz B me.

10

My ten-year-old cousin looks my way
"Do I have any more?" she asks today.
It's Christmas Day, and here she sits
A whimper away from throwing a fit
Surrounded by all of her unwrapped gifts
I could ignore her, not give a shit
But instead I turn, contemplating.
Does she have any more, she asked
Now waiting for a reply from someone to end her
Frustrating quest for things materialistic
Perhaps the best has been left forgotten,
but that's unrealistic
She sheds generosity like a cheater sheds lipstick
from his collar
Forgetting it existed, only cares about the dollars
Like a streetwalker on the hour, it's all about the
dough, not the climax
She's never told "no," and so she can't relax
Looks away, like Santa left something at the door.
"Do you have any more?" I say.
"I know you do.
Got clothes, got a warm bed, got a dad that loves you,
Got your gramma, your cousins, your uncles and aunts
Got no stains on your shirt, no holes in your pants,
Got jewelry, got toys, got plenty of food,
Got more gifts than most kids.
And I don't mean to be rude
But I'm glad that you don't know what it's like
To be hungry and cold, no place to sleep at night,
And you can't do your homework, cause you got no lights.
And you, of all little kids, should know better
Cause for you, it hasn't always been sunny weather
There's been Christmases all you got was one of
Gramma's sweaters
and you thought it was better than any Christmas
you ever had before.
So you ask, 'Do I have any more?'
Cousin, be reminded of the score
Today, acting like your shit don't stink
But years ago, when you had no water coming out of
your kitchen sink
You were much more grateful of the things you had."
And when I was done speaking, she looked so sad
But I knew, in a minute, she'd go right back to being
bad
Cause a 10-year-old can never appreciate what
she once had.

Apocalyptic Dreaming

Breathe in, breathe out
Lips stop quiver; tears dry out
Find something to talk about
Or else, you fear, you'll scream.
No one can breathe in forever
The sun would shine in different weather
And whether or not the topic's clever
We still continue to breathe
Try not to remember, but can't forget
Face gets hot, tears wet
And under the covers at night, you let
Out a secret scream
We cannot make our memories lapse
So knees feel weak, lungs collapse
And puff, hold, pass
Is now the only way to breathe
Why does it get hard when things go wrong?
A topic for another song
And so you wait, while all along
You breathe, scream, breathe.

These Little Girls

These little girlz are ours
So we need to be mentoring them, telling them they can go far
Tell them they don't need to ride around with
strange boys in strange cars
Staying out late, turning tricks at the bars
Here they are, looking to us for guidance on all matters
How to be strong women, looking to make their souls happier
Not necessarily make their wallets fatter
And the little things we do -- the walking, shopping,
the idle chatter
Will help her feel worthy on her own, even if the boys
aren't looking at her
Cause these little girls are ours.

These little girls keep pace
Cause they know they can keep up with the boys when it
comes to the rat race
Not concerned about not being able to get up in a man's face
But, for their sake, we need to show them there's better
ways of fighting
No need to throw punches; try dialogue or writing
Engage your adversaries in rational conversation
You've seen how an intelligent proclamation can lift a nation
No longer will there be gender discrimination if our
girls are literate
And all it takes is for us to sit with them and read a bit,
So these little girls keep pace.

These little girls shed tears
Crying in the closet when they think no one's around to hear
Frustration, anxiety, violence and peer pressure
just some of their fears
Don't try to switch gears; let them talk it out
The worst thing you can do is blow it off or shut them out
Thinking it'll all go away if you just let them pout
And it will, eventually, but then they'll be left with the doubt:
"Were my feelings valid? What did I have to cry about?"
Their cries, unanswered, turn into confusion
Without a solution, they're left with their own illusions
On why the world has turned and left them here
That's why these little girls shed tears.

These little girls have dreams
Living for the future, pretending the world is not
what it seems
Encourage them, like darkness penetrated by light beams
These little girls and their big dreams will lead the way
Like ice cream on a hot summer day
They provide welcome respite from the realities
of the world today
And, if we're lucky, tomorrow the world will
see it their way
So love them, support them, treasure them,
and variations on that theme
Cause these little girls have dreams,
shed tears, and keep pace for miles
And they'll only be ours for a little while.

Oil

This one that I need, he's a fickle lover
When he goes down, ooh, he makes me shudder
I love it when he's low like that
But when he comes back up, he just runs me raw
And I can't take it, but I keep coming back for more.
This fickle lover at my door?
Gas prices.
I thought I had him beat.
Trying to walk, bike, anything to stay out of the
driver's seat
And when we meet, I never know whether he'll treat
me right
Make me say "ooh yeah" while I fill up on his
juice at night
Or whether he'll bite, take a chunk of change bigger
than I'd like
Leave me feeling cold, taken advantage of
And yet, he says he's not to blame
He's just playing the game, and I believe him
Without my love, no one could conceive him
Born of the fires of too many souls,
burning the deserts dry of their history
He was once in the ground, and before that, was dead
And millions of years before, in another life
He was lush forests, undergrowth, plankton
and dinosaurs
Roaming free on the earth, that great,
green planet
Where humans had thus not been to inhabit
And overpopulate the ground like nymphomaniac
rabbits
Whose only habit was to consume the long-dead
For their Jeeps, their private jets
Grand ideas to fill their heads
But nobody said, "What happens when the living begin
to haunt the dead?"
Then we start killing our own, for the ground
and what's below
Until we can go no further, and then who knows
What will happen to our fickle lover.
He only treats us badly because we mistreated him
It's all he knows.
And so, through the blinding snow I begrudge him
a little more dough today
And wonder how long we can hide under the covers,
hoping he never goes away.

Role Model

I wanna take half the people I meet
and slap em silly
They don't know what's coming out of their mouths;
like Milli Vanilli
You know the ones, reciting garbage they hear on
the street
It's like putting a propaganda record on repeat:
You hear what they want you to hear, nothing else
No intelligent, original thoughts up here,
just a dusty shelf.
It starts out with these little kids,
who get their ideas from us
Think a life of crime and hustling
is better than getting on the school bus
Hold up, you say, it's not my fault.
Well, you may not articulate
But they imitate what you do, and from there it escalates
And you've got a whole community of kids who don't
want to wait for their riches
And you hear one call a group of women his "bitches."
And they start trading drugs on the street
And you can no longer blame it on the beat
Don't concede defeat; just rise to your feet
Own up to how they've been brought up,
and start walking
You knew all along they were listening,
so start talking
Tell them -- hell, tell us, we're better than that
So we need to stop spouting all this
ridiculous crap
Cause we're all role models when we're at home
or in the neighborhood
So when we say, "I should start acting like one,"
I wish we would.