there is no choice
what these people see–
will soon grow up to be me
i have no voice

up against the wall
just a child, it is a game
right now there is no shame
this game of duty’s call

but they all yell in my ear
“you’ll be like the rest of ‘em!”
till their face near
I reach the stem

i have no future
no chance to take
all is secure
i think in a wake

i am a black boy
and I always will be
with a gun as my toy
this is my future see,
(at least, it’s what they tell me)

i will be violent
i will fight in the war
i must be silent
to keep the score

my future is locked
no chance of change
i am just part of the flock
inside of the cage


a.g.

There is more than one voice
in my head I must make a choice,
which to listen and which to ignore
but as the days go on I can't anymore
people must think I'm a bore

I don't talk a lot too,
that much is true,
I am stuck inside my mind
not peaceful nor sublime
all these thoughts I must hide

It's difficult to say
words in the same way
My own thoughts go at their own rate
No, I must stop and translate
but by then it's too late

The conversation is over now
I would talk but I don't know how
Not without thinking first
it is hard for me to just burst
I'd wish it were revers'd

So many opportunities I had lost
It is me who paid the cost
I know myself better than any
but that's because I don't share with many
my thoughts for a penny...

I curse the voices in my head
they never stop, just like I said
think too much to say a thing
inside I feel like a king
but out here... nothing

Those close to me are fine
with them I share thoughts of mine
with them the voices slow just a bit
I have enough time to show my wit
Though I'd hate to admit—

At the end of the day
I'd like to go away
Spend some time alone
I don't know, in my home?
All on my own

I need the space
to let the mind race
quiet time
it's not a crime
no more rhyme

We are all going to die.
We are all going to be forgotten.
It doesn't matter if your grave is six feet deep and three feet wide,
Or if your body was slung over the side,
of a boat in motion
from hands devoid of emotion
We all end up just the same.
Decayed and rotten.
Forgotten.
If that isn't Equality,
I don't know what is.

the letters create the words
the words create phrases
the phrases create the sentences
the sentences create the paragraphs
and they all mean nothing
if there is no feeling

but the person chooses the letters
the words
the phrases
the sentences
the paragraphs
all that is written

but the meaning is inside
dropped into each letter
hidden in the words
tearing its way into phrases
concealed in the sentences
weaved into the paragraphs

to truly grasp a feeling
to transfer thoughts
into the written word

writing is hard