You rejected your children
Like they were not real men
Like they never had been
Born.
You were seldom with them
Dispatched so little wisdom
But yet plenty of criticism
And scorn.

It’s ten o’clock
Do you know
Where your children are?
Could you find them
By eleven o’clock
Even if you got into your car?

Your life was more important
Than any of your descendants
So they suffered the sentence
Of neglect.
They had to grow on their own
Because they were so alone
In a parental twilight zone,
No respect.

It’s ten o’clock
Do you know
Who your children are?
Did your parenting
Hurt them enough
To leave permanent scars?

Your partying mattered more.
What else is a person’s life for?
And nobody is keeping score
But the kid.
And if anyone should happen by
You can always makeup a lie
Just let them be fool enough to try
What we did.

It’s ten o’clock
Do you know
Where your children are?
Could you find them
By eleven o’clock
Even if you got into your car?

I’m a just right, out of sight, lily-white,
Never coy, ball of joy, good old boy,
So great it keeps me up at night,
Clever son of all the tricks I employ.
A world-beating, caucus leading,
Really big deal, big wheel big shot,
Clean outside, mean on the inside
Super savvy, super cool, super hot.

I’m the guy you want to toast
I’m the tops, I’m where it’s at
Some are good, but I’m the most.
I’m a sainted southern aristocrat.
It’s not good to get on my bad side.
I’m a fearless, remorseless go-getter.
I’m right, you’re wrong, if there’s a fight,
Yeah, you may be good, but I’m better.

I’m a cut above, you’ve just got to love
A gift from God sent from high above.
A card-carrying good guy to the letter,
A credit to my entire race, nobody better.
Whether in the news or word of mouth,
A quality beacon of the Sainted South.

I’m the guy you want to toast
I’m the tops, I’m where it’s at
Some are good, but I’m the most.
I’m a sainted southern aristocrat.
It’s not good to get on my bad side.
I’m a fearless, remorseless go-getter.
I’m right, you’re wrong, if there’s a fight,
Yeah, you may be good, but I’m better.

So, go away with your stupid picketing;
We knew how to run things way back when
We have God on our side, so just back off.
Old ways are the best way, again and again.
Your talk about equality and nigras rights
May sound good, but it’s all just libel.
We are the chosen children of our God
And you can find that in The Holy Bible.

I’m a cut above, you’ve just got to love
A gift from God sent from high above.
A card-carrying good guy to the letter,
A credit to my entire race, nobody better.
Whether in the papers or word of mouth,
I’m a quality representative of The South.

“You are worthless!”
Somebody close to me said.
“Not worth a ****!”
It was somebody in my head.
“Never have been.”
The ******* went right on
“And never will be.”
It never has been gone.

My entire life
These words have been there.
I have tried hard
To act like I don’t even care.
But they hurt me
Took joy from all I try to do
And bring me down
Because I fear they are true.

I have tried hard
To prove that I do have worth,
I’m not, nor have I ever
Been the **** of the earth.
I have worked hard
To make my way among men,
When I start to believe,
The chanting starts over again.

Something in me
A different kinder sort of a voice
Gently urges me
To accept that I have a choice.
It softly tells me
That early on I was damaged
And I must accept
My self-confidence was savaged.

So, slowly changes
Come about in what I am feeling
And I see more
Of what cards fate is dealing.
I changed people
That I let into my life today.
I let the past go
And let those voices go away.

The chimp and the monkey
Were fighting rather funky
About who was the greater ape.
Along came a killer
A monstrous gorilla
And left both their mouths agape.

Then a talented gibbon
Wearing a blue ribbon
Played a fine hurdy-gurdy.
A local photographer
Insisted he recorded her
When he said “Watch the birdie!”

Monkey see, monkey do
Is a childish kind of game;
Like one-upsmanship and chicken
And going to prison,
It often turns out the same.
Hello, wake up and smell the smoke
You’re burning down your future.
Your school-ground behavior
Has gone rancid in flavor;
You boys need to pull yourselves together.

In their pugilistic oblivion
The warring simians
Might have fought until perdition.
Had not their mates protested
Their battle got arrested
Due to their marital conditions.

You see, even dumb creatures
Understand the features
And benefits of a nice residence.
What a sad kind of animal
Makes his home life pitiful
By setting a warlike precedence?

Monkey see, monkey do
Is a childish kind of game;
Like one-upsmanship and chicken
And going to prison,
It often turns out the same.
Hello, wake up and smell the smoke
You’re burning down your future.
Your school-ground behavior
Has gone rancid in flavor;
You boys need to pull yourselves together.

Spring sneaks by the door to the ghetto.
That's okay, they can't afford the seed.
Trees take too much room from the rentals.
No one saw the end of ghetto weeds.

Ghetto weeds once grew up sudden.
They took the food of those in bloom.
Ghetto weeds we're awful sorry,
But we haven't got the room.

Yesterday a man sold his garden
Bragging how he made such a deal.
Bought himself a high-rise apartment.
Who can tell the fruit by the peel?

Ghetto weeds once grew up sudden.
They took the food of those in bloom.
Ghetto weeds we're awful sorry,
But we haven't got the room.

What about the children of the ghetto,
Do they have the playgrounds they need?
Have you seen the children how they're growing?
Don't they shoot up just like a ****?

Ghetto weeds once grew up sudden.
They took the food of those in bloom.
Ghetto weeds we're awful sorry,
But we haven't got the room.

You didn’t teach me
How to succeed without ambition
How to live without approval
How to survive in this condition
How to hold my head up high
How to run when I could barely walk
How to value the me others hate
How to survive all the painful talk.

You didn’t teach me
How to keep my heart healthy and whole
How to tell the truth hidden in lies
How to find the spark inside my soul
How to be proud listening to taunts
How to look upon hatred as sickness
How to sing songs of praise of others
How to selflessly, and lovingly bear witness.

You didn’t teach me
How to value the people who love me as me
How to enjoy people of a different color
How to appreciate all the different nationalities
How to bounce back from the blows of life
How to learn from the work any that I do
How to love my life and cherish all of it,
Because loving me never came from you.

Pop top rings and coffee cups
Were dropped across the sound
Of paper screams from campaign mails
Discarded on the ground.
A splash of spray paint lettering
Spelled "Bobby Loves Marie"
And left a message of its fate
For passing friends to see.

And the children asked their elders
Questions of their brothers
Of things that seemed to matter
Of things they had to know.
Are these the gleanings,
Forgotten in-betweenings,
The measure of our meanings
As we come and go?

Two girls passed the masterpiece
And walked away enraged
They guessed about the artist
His parents and his age.
A sailor and a merchant passed
And argued as they walked
Of rising unemployment
And the hopelessness of talk.

And the children asked their elders
Questions of their brothers
Of things that seemed to matter
Of things they had to know.
Are these the gleanings,
Forgotten in-betweenings,
The measure of our meanings
As we come and go?

The lady rolled her window up,
The chauffeur changed her tire
As Bobby sprayed her limousine
For rich men to admire.
Later in her drawing room,
Her husband called her down.
"A lady has no business in
The ***** part of town."

And the children asked their elders
Questions of their brothers
Of things that seemed to matter
Of things they had to know.
Are these the gleanings,
Forgotten in-betweenings,
The measure of our meanings
As we come and go?

We never really know
What happens in a person’s home.
We can’t really know
What happens when they’re alone.
It’s every block and street
Even from those we trust to lead.
Too often parents turn
And simply refuse to even heed.

Crying and waiting for the rainbow
After seasons of so much rain.
It’s a heartbreak one must suffer
Waiting the rainbow to come again.

Not one in a million
There are far too many suffering
Not one in a thousand
Even if parents don’t know a thing.
Not one in a hundred
That is only one small percent.
They are the victims
And they never gave their consent.

Crying and waiting for the rainbow
After seasons of so much rain.
It’s a heartbreak one must suffer
Waiting the rainbow to come again.

Many think it’s a seldom thing
Yet it is too large a fraction of the whole
Robbing the children of youth
And taking away the basis of their soul.
They don’t want to admit it
But if they care about them, they must
Because abusing children is
A vile way to steal from them their trust.

Crying and waiting for the rainbow
After seasons of so much rain.
It’s a heartbreak one must suffer
Waiting the rainbow to come again.

You, yew and ewe.
New, knew and gnu.
Two, too and to.
Do, dew and doo.
Your, you’re, ewer and yore.
Sower, sewer and even sore.

Pin, pen
Win, wen.
Tin, ten.
Bin, been.

For, four, and fore.
Poor, pour and pore.
Bear, bare and bayer.
There, their and they’re.
Sure, sewer, shore and shower.
Censor, censure, sensor, censer.

Din, den.
Kin, ken.
Win, wen.
Yin, yen.

Shoulda, coulda and woulda,
Wanna, hafta and hadda.
Pitchers painted of pitchers
Ree-lutters instead of realtors.
Pertecting you with protection.
Prescribing you a perscription.
A different kind of differnse,
For instance, gimme a frinstance.

Pin, pen
Win, wen.
Tin, ten.
Bin, been.
Din, den.
Kin, ken.
Win, wen.
Yin, yen.

I poeticize, proselytize
Punctuate and pontificate.
I write couplets and rhymes
And I really do it all the time.
I exacerbate and exaggerate
With no desire to intimidate.
I make similes and metaphors
Indoors and even out of doors.

There’s cussing and discussion
And sharp literary impressions
Through diversions, conversions
Allusions as well as conclusions.
And with luck, no delusions.
Just syllabically deft fusions
Of some deferential references
With a deft touch of reverence.

I rhyme thyme with fresh lime
And cardamom with cinnamon.
Sweetbreads and shortbreads.
Chicken bones and licking scones.
Rhyming pumpkins with dumplings
And matching up filets with filberts
Just as cocoa goes well with Kona.
Marmalade can be a good marinade.

I rhyme chrome wheels and automobiles,
Freeway off-ramps and Tiffany lamps.
Cellophane and vintage airplanes.
Flapper vamps and streetwalking tramps.
Also Cinderella coaches and cockroaches,
Nothing is unfair game to a busy poet.
As well as RCA Victors and boa constrictors.
Since I’m a poet, everyone should know it.