Why did you take them too far to find?
You took my people and left me behind.
They laughed with you, you ate together
And you sailed them away from me forever.
Strange man, has the sea washed your black away?
Your soul away? Your heart away?
Did it seep into your skin and make the melanin fade?
Is that why you’re so bitter?
Confused and scared, they ride the waves
And reach my ear; the songs of slaves.
Bitter yet soft, it tells their pain,
It shows your smile, but not your shame.
The ocean reeks of my people’s blood.
I know what you’ve done.
But you can’t hold us in your hands for long
We are the people of the sun.

There was a child in the heart of our land emaciated, starving, weak.
And there he sat on sticks and stones to beaten down to speak.
So he dreamed, our little boy, of things he wished he had.
He dreamed of things like food and food so he wouldn’t feel so sad.
A bite of food was a dream indeed, better than any other
And for one, selfish as it may seem, he'd push aside his brother.
So he stuffed his face with a dream, the glutton, his eyes squeezed so, so tight.
His belly full with tasty thoughts, he savored every bite.
And once, the moon, who’d seen his dreams, asked the glutton why.
Our little boy he closed his eyes and said this with a sigh;
“I’ve never felt my belly full and begging for release. I’ve starved my days, yes all of them and longed for nothing but peace.
So leave me to my deadly sin, I’ll pay for it in time
for you have yours which I know not and gluttony is mine”.

I’m angry and it’s obvious, so don’t pretend that you can’t see,
I’m sick and tired of being the guy you made me pretend to be
So this is me and I’m furious, the rage I’ve kept inside,
Bottled up and locked away, it’s too red for me to hide.
This hatred that consumes me, it comes from way beneath
And if you cared you’d see the way I laugh through gritted teeth.
I cry out loud when I’m alone and brake things because I’m mad.
I curse your name and hurt myself and it’s not because I’m sad.
You talk with that self righteous tone, criticizing my mood.
You think I’m better than this, well I’m not because it feels so ******* good.
I love the way it burns through me too raw and wild to tame
I love the way it starts to seethe at the mention of your name.
So leave me to my deadly sin, I’ll pay for it in time.
For you have yours which I know not, but rage, rage is mine.

PRETTY
There she is, gorgeous, in every way there is,
The kind of girl who could have your heart by blowing you a kiss.
She sways her hips with every step, so confident and bold.
A girl with so much style and class it just never gets old.
But this girl holds a secret that will never part her lips.
Covered up and held together by a seam that never rips.
She has to be the way she is, acceptable to society
so she dresses up and wears that smile to hide her insecurity.
She keeps this hair; she does her nails and never wears what’s out of season.
Her soul, it wails and sobs inside and yet she keeps it hidden.
It’s all about who you sleep with and a modern sense of fashion
So she walks around an empty image of their ignorant deception.
A goddess in all our eyes, but her reflection isn’t her
Just eye candy for all the mindless boys who honestly don’t care.
She bears the pain for a social status she so desperately needs,
a simple life, the dreadful fear she vigorously feeds.
But she can’t shed this image yet and even though its pitiful,
She needs to be this way, she needs to be beautiful.

OLDER
The mirror never tells a lie and its only getting clearer,
The more she looks, the more she sees that she’s becoming older.
Obvious wrinkles, a rounder form, it’s not just her imagination
She blames it on the life she leads, the stress she keeps on facing.
She found time to keep fit at first; she’s gotten somewhat lazy,
But her days are packed with so many things, adding that might drive her crazy.
She keeps the house in order with backbreaking work each day
She’s with the kids, no extra help; she’s raising them her way.
They cling to her and call her name desperate for attention
Don’t they know that all their yelling only adds to ma’s frustration?
Her name, more like a title, that brought her so much joy at first,
Even when they made her sag with their never ending thirst.
But now things have turned around, they did a whole one-eighty
And even though she’s thirty five she feels as though she’s fifty
She loves her kids, so full of life and somehow never lacking energy
But a seven hour break from them would be nothing short of heavenly
If she could trade places with her man, wear the pants, drive the car
But she hadn’t thought to build herself and now her chance has flown too far
She sits there on her comfy couch, her mind ever softly drifting,
Then she’s snapped out of her silly dreams, her children come in screaming.

ANCIENT
A peaceful, calm and soothing aura floats above her silver crown.
She feels the pain, she’s growing weak and yet you never see her frown.
Her pace is slow; her step is sure, spreading wisdom with each breath.
She’s lived her life, she’s done her part, she’s ready for her death.
Of course there are some things she did that now seem very strange,
But she has come to terms with all the things that she can never change.
She feels herself slipping away more and more each day,
Piece by piece, she disappears and soon she’ll go away.
As those that walked with her before hang their wings and start to fall
She fears not her approaching end, she knows death lies in wait for all.
She speaks her mind and may be blunt but doesn’t judge or condescend
She knows she has been there before and lived your life from end to end
The memories that she’s losing, the smiles, the joy, the love
They makes her sad, they break her heart, the times she now can never have
And even as she fades away she’s left herself in all she’s done
She takes solace in the promise that all her pain will soon be gone

FRESH
His parents are completely lost; they don’t know what is going on
He’s skipping school, he’s talking back, the boy they knew is all but gone
He’s scared he’ll be made fun of, if he comes off as too pure,
Besides, it doesn’t hurt to live a little, of that he’s very sure.
It hurts too much to be different; he has to be the same
And though he knows it isn’t right he falls into their game
He falls hard and breaks himself over and over again
The girls, the drugs, they’re all that matter, its etched into his brain
Euphoric pleasure clouds his vision; he can’t see what he’s doing
It makes him blind, it makes him numb; he can’t see where he’s going
The jagged, thorny, downhill path somehow eludes his very eyes
And all he sees and all he hears are what they show him and all their lies.
He’s made a choice to breathe their fumes and live off their sweet poison
The high it gives, it separates him from the soul that he keeps bruising

MATURE
Oh the pain of memories! The times he used to have,
He’d trade an arm, or both his legs to the one who floats above
To have them back, to live again, if only for a moment
When aging was a distant threat, when he knew not what it meant.
Now life is far less exciting, work, wife and children
Each a challenge on its own, a dream until he had them
He’s overworked, he’s very stressed, he’s broken down in every way
He rises up before the sun and boards a trosky every day
It’s off to work and back again, how much can a poor man take
He needs to rest before he dies; he needs more than a simple break

GRUMPY
The youth they think they know it all, their twisted sense of right
He wishes for the good ol’ days when bark was equal to bite
As his daughter scolds her son, he shakes his head and then he grunts
If he were her he would have spanked that naughty child over his pants.
Fear, that’s what it is, they’re scared of being hated,
Can you believe she had the nerve to call his ways outdated?
Yes, he admits that might be true but weren’t they effective?
He’s given up advising them, their hearing is selective.
Why should a man as wise as he even waste his breath?
At least he knows he won’t be bothered when he sleeps in death.