I loved my best friend and the hair atop her head
So I mimicked her style
Hoping it would suit me instead
My cousin has great green eyes
Thus I got contacts to match
My colleague has the fullest lips
Prompting me to buy a batch
I envied my neighbor’s glorious waistline
Then I gathered up my money
To take surgical knives to mine

Darkness ate up the sky
Concealing the stars from sight
My anticipation rose like waves
And then there was light

Fireworks burst in the heavens
A thundering serenade
Reds blues yellows purples
Joined in an explosive parade

They caused the night to sparkle and gleam
The beauty struck deep in my heart
In my amazement I realized the glittering sky
Resembled a work of art

I'm seven days single
Six days sick
Five days dying
Four days childish
Three days gone
Two days confused
One day strong

yet another savage tragedy
ravages, emotionally,
the trap queens in bandages
screaming to their bae’s
about the vastness of calamities
blunt tips glow showing smoke blown
extensions flowing growing tired of
liars on the youtube
seeking gifs and snap-chat
besties to wrestle
with the cultural festivities
being given proclivity
to policy lunacy –
smart phone glued
claw hand and shrewdly
planning to revamp the system
with hello kitty ***** twisters
and metrosexual waterfall trips…
it’s truly a pip
these auto-tuned post baby-boomers
no relations to crooners
thinking the sooners are only
Oklahoma….
My youth tirade
is partly a parade
like a brass band on Burbon
playing unafraid –

I’m the Caucasian black guy
Crying out for equal rights.
I’m the white faced coolie
You murdered in the night
So you didn’t have to pay
His salary on the railroad.
I’m the unrelated relative
Of Faulkner’s Tom Joad.

I’m the underappreciated
The **** of many quips.
I’ve known the well of bitterness
And have taken countless sips.
The names they’ve called me
Seldom amounted to praise.
I’m the one they passed over
When giving out a raise.

I was told to not expect
To advance in any job.
I was told to just agree
And to let my silent head bob.
I knew all the best was there
For a man who had a wife.
Otherwise I must do without
The rewards in everyday life.

But we must sleep and eat
And have a roof over our heads.
So we cut up and act the fool
And eat the cheapest breads.
We act like the jokes don’t hurt
While we bleed inside our souls.
We make the best of what we have
And compromise our own goals.

Yes, we’re the modern house slaves
Regardless of the color of our skin.
We’re expected to be satisfied because
They think God has made us from sin.
It’s one of those shameful moments
That blot the history of our planet.
We’re dealt with as if we were ****
And told we simply must stand it.