I Am What I've Always Been
Do you know what I can't write?
Slam Poetry
Because I've never had to fight
or rise up against the strife
of the Man keeping me down
I am white and middle class through and through
The police were and still are my friends true
Even when I did wrong as a child
I knew. And I was sorry for my indiscretions
Stealing, lying, speeding. These were my crimes
Sent to my room to do hard time
with my bed, and books, and the view of
maple and oak trees. Hardened criminal
More like hardly a criminal. I was vanilla
Still am in many ways. Almost every day I
listen to metal, and punk...and Mozart
Yo! You hear that Sonata No.4? Shits tight!
That's right. I'm the guy who doesn't like to fight
Who covers his head and feet at night
One hand reaching out to pet the dog and
fall asleep so that everything is all right
I can listen to slam poets and I'm moved
Almost to tears by their words, the
verbal manifestations of hopes and dreams and fears
And know that isn't me. I'm not afraid
of what they're afraid of. Police helicopters above
No mother while growing up to give love
Father abandoning me when I was young
Bullied in the halls at school, pushed and shoved
That's not me. I was a different kid
And now a different man. Odd man out
Picked last in games because I was gangly
and spindly and uncoordinated without a doubt
But my folks were there for me
When I was in the school play they came to see
I had a real speaking part too
Not just in the background as a tree
I didn't get bullied in the halls
I was unmolested in the spring and fall
And as I grew up I knew that
I would be okay. It didn't have to get better for me
And that's why I can't write slam poetry
