Plant

That unobtrusive, overlooked little seed
Tossed into a pot of soil, never expected to become
Anything that would resemble a grown-up
Its forefathers sprouted, but never bore fruit
Never grew much farther than two or three leaves
But grow up it did, this forgotten one
And now it's so tall it's become frighteningly reminiscent
Of a plant not allowed to grow.
But I can't stop it now.
Maybe it's the promise of a harvest,
Maybe it's the adrenaline rush of the forbidden
But I think it's because this living thing
Through my haphazard, yet tender care
Has grown from a tiny seed into something to behold
And cutting it down would cut me down as well.
Like a secret dream in the far reaches of our minds
That has been allowed to take root in reality
So, too, must we always allow it to grow ever taller
Despite all who may want to take it away.

Slam Two

Never underestimate the power of a goal
Cause whatever you give to your community comes
back to you tenfold
What a sight to behold, the young and the old
Joining forces to force change of unthinkable proportions
Think again if you place blame on the perpetual dope game
It's a shame, but it's far from the main cause
Looming large in this torrential rain and dense fog
Is apathy.
And it's you and me who's gotta rise into the street
Strap shoes on our feet and find out what we've got
And that's love for our neighbors, friends and strangers
Placing blame won't get us nowhere
Neither will hating, it's all time-wasting
Not to mention frustrating while we're waiting on change.
So start something constructive, not the force of destruction
The reluctance of the people is the rise of true evil
But creation by the willing and able will prove to be a happier
ending than any children's fable.
So never underestimate the power of a goal
Cause whatever you give to your community comes back to you
tenfold.

Slam One

Before I begin, a word of caution:
Don't judge me based on proportions
A little white girl from a good family
That's the surface, you see --
and it doesn't make for good poetry to be writing about
all the shit that I've never seen
so I'll write what I know. The Truth, according to
The Gospel of My Experience
The only gospel I've ever trusted in
And if you're peering in, know that once you begin
You are entering the recollections of all that is me,
the fallacies, stumbles and falls
tumbling out in sentences and paragraphs
like so many drops before you notice the rain.
That's the disclaimer.
I won't try to change you, but maybe persuade you
To think outside of your four-cornered box, your two-sided
city, your misunderstood state in a union that's far
from being perfect.
And when I open my eyes to those others become quick
to judge, I hope you see
The labels you affix are not for me, not for anyone
in the community.
I think pointing out sex, class and race is based on a
perpetuation of fundamental hate
that you can trace back to farther than we could go.
But what do I know? There's so many people here
Telling me it's a very modern abnormality
But we're lacking originality
If we want to be thoroughly modern
Then we should stop telling the children what color they
are perceived as being
What neighborhoods they should avoid seeing
Remove the duplicitous labels that afflict society
and cast off the injustice and homegrown hate
that comes with that notoriety.

Into Milwaukee: From a Plane

The sheen of the sun casts a 200 miles per hour
projected circle
Upon the glinting sapphire waters of the lake below
Where passerby only noticed the water,
frozen at its edges
By the winter's chill that seemed never to stay away
Now turning, the light becomes a monitor
Of a shoreline's worth of activity and preoccupation
Never ceasing in its progress, tirelessly retreating and
advancing
To all points and places fathomable
And scarcely remembering those it will always leave
behind.

Manhattan

While wide-eyed tourists gaze upward at fancy billboards,
tall skyscrapers and possibly God,
I watch them.
Notice their baggy t-shirts and boot-cut jeans
Looking Midwest casual amid alternating groups of
high-end chic, downtown funky and possibly homeless
I am them.
But I tell myself I'm somehow above them
Sporting a short, black winter coat, a native gait through
the crowd and eyes on no one
I fool them all, myself included.
Why do I loathe those who would only treat me more
decently than those I emulate?
I fear it is the weakness that most threatens to destroy
my soul, the world and possibly Manhattan.

Mutt

I do not have "a people."
Many others share my silent burden.
We have no common thread to bind us,
nor shared burden to weigh us down
no history. Because our history is
Everyone's history. We are
Everyman or Everywoman.
We fit in with everyone and no one.
We can relate to everything and nothing.
"Community" means something we are not a part of
And that is the ency that fuels the soul.
Either it turns to resentment, fear or hate
Or it forces us to label ourselves, package ourselves
into primary labels and specific demographics.
All we want is what they have
An irony which does not escape us.

It Might Not Rain Here

I don't need a miracle
I just need empirical evidence
That we're setting the right precedent
Cause these kids are in a lost generation
Growing up in a nation that
places the blame elsewhere
Too much to bear but life's not fair
And it's blissful when you don't know
and you don't care
Close your eyes to the wound
but the pain's still there
It might not rain here
but it falls somewhere
So be aware of it, and
try to imagine
If you knew about the world,
what would be your reaction?
Now take that knowledge;
translate it to passion
One more less ignorant and
ready for action.

Perception

The world is too full of gangsters and thugs
I want to be educated, not
medicated on drugs
Second-rated as a second-class
no good punk
Makes me frustrated, but I'll make it
Try to rise above
Just cause I hang out playing hack
with some guys on the street
Or I'm walking in the park
with no shoes on my feet
Or we're jumping after dark
in the Otter Tail River
Cops are asking bout our habits
And it makes me shiver
My only intent is to deliver the truth
And my only possession is
the freedom of my youth
I'd capture it up and keep it
in a bottle
But I'm using it now,
cause there might not be tomorrow
So borrow what you want and
take what you need
Proceed through life with
no regret and no greed
Cause if you think all I do is
waste my days
I take my message to the people
And I'm here to stay.

Karma

I got lots of wishes
People call me malicious
But I'm just ambitious
So don't be suspicious of me
My philosophy is don't be cruel unnecessarily
It'll fall back to you momentarily
And there you'll be, caught,
no rest for the wicked we're taught
Look how hard you've fought just to be
part of this rage that's lost inside of me
The cages of our minds holding memories
To open them with words and a melody
Isn't always kind.
But I know it's the only way
To let go of all the rage and leave behind yesterday
So don't try and find, just leave it behind
Don't press pause or rewind
Just never mind the haters who hate
Cause they'll sit and wait for a later date
To toss their bait into the lake of tomorrow
But always tomorrow is filled with the sorrow
Of regret
And I'd be willing to bet
That even though you're cutting checks
And you might drive off in a Lexus
Your best is never gonna beat me
See, I believe that even though you run
Looking blindly into the way of the gun
You may be having fun, but you're dumb
And my best is yet to come.

In the Dark

In the dark, I lie awake
My fears surrounding me.
If I was ignorant and naive, I would be
happier
But not wiser.
I fear what will happen when I open
My eyes tomorrow.
Will it be different, will it change?
Do I have power, a choice in what I do?
My choices have led me here.
But where will they lead tomorrow, when I open
My eyes again?
Do I really believe everything happens
For a reason?
Can I accept, nurture, be happy with
The decisions I make?
I fear at night that upon waking
Ten years from now
That I will not believe so.
And that is what keeps me awake
In the dark tonight.