June 6, 2013 - 0030

Once again I am back here with some words for you. I was on a short break when I got caught in a hole called YouTube. My subscriptions are mainly gun related, with a smattering of humor and a bit of workout motivation. But now and then I leave the suggestions and venture out into the wild, wild YouTube and search for something more. And tonight I found myself listening to poetry, and to be specific slam poetry. As I listened to the words that these wonderful writers had come up with it hit me.

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