racism and stereotypes
I’m not chief keef but that’s that **** I don’t like
especially when I’m judged like when people say that I don’t “look right”
cause I tell I’m samoan so I’m supposed to be big and strong
and playing some stereotypical sport like football
it’s just an ethnicity, like anyone else, relax
but on a more serious note, I feel bad for the blacks
tell me why a few weeks ago, my roommate is walkin’ down on mill ave.
and he sees some girl sittin’ alone so he comes over cause he just wants to chat
but as soon as he approaches her, she gets all tense and afraid
cause she’s over here fabricating some image that he’s some kind of troublemaker, like the dude from the movie crash, you know the one with the braids?
I find that **** ludicrous
that many people out there judge off the color of someone’s skin and think they knew all of it
all of who you are and all of how you act
so you supposed to be a gangsta on the streets cause you young and you black
or the only explanation for the brotha with the beemer is he be workin’ that corner sellin’ out dime sacks from his nike knapsack or maybe he’s just one of those cats that likes to rap and occasionally slangs crack
but no, he can’t be no college educated man
he’s wearing a nike outfit and his skin is all black
and don’t even get me started on all the idiots that judge Hispanics and call ‘em wetbacks
what the hell is wrong with this world?
latinos are arguably the hardest working people around
but jose and carlos must be illegal cause they’re holding a shovel and their skin is all brown
so let’s get a group of racist ******* to push sheriff joe arpaio to introduce sb1070
good job Arizona, you’re now the most hated state in the country
cause we don’t like Mexicans cause they’re taking all the jobs that we could have had
but let’s skip the fact that they’re willing to work twice as hard for half the pay with no insurance to cover their back
how do you disrespect anyone, who’s willing to do all that?
and as we go over these issues with all the minorities
racists begin to develop a sense of hate for those that make up the majority
the white people
this girl in class may have not have been paying attention or got an easy question wrong
so let’s just whisper under our breath that she’s just another “dumb blonde”
let’s just assume that she’s daddy’s spoiled little girl cause she has a coach bag
and that she has a lotta of money, no rhythm, and above all no ***
and her daddy’s daddy’s daddy must have owned slaves back in the day
so I’mma use that against her if she ever misbehaves
and act like the majority of her people haven’t matured past that stage
and since they seem like their living well, it must be safe to assume that they were born privileged
and that they’re completely oblivious to the sufferings of other races and completely ethnocentric
*******
all these stereotypes and racist assumptions, *******
why can’t we,
live in a colorblind society,
where all races can connect without the animosity?
well, the answer is, we can, but it starts from us
stop the racism, stop the stereotypes, stop the hate, and begin to trust
in people of all colors with different mothers
like the cliché goes, don’t judge a book by its cover
so just because he ain’t a brother
that don’t mean you gotta give him the cold shoulder
so, if everyone can, I need yall to do me a favor,
I need you to love you, love him, and even love me
love her, love them, love everyone equally
and as for me? I’mma just be me
regardless of what people assume, I have the right to act freely
cause I’m not trynna be the center of attention or the definition of perfection
I’m just strivin’ to be proud of what I see in my reflection…

Gonna move to Qatar
ride in a gold Beemer
playin' songs for the Emir
on a ruby studded guitar.

Live in a silver highrise
go skiing in the desert
eat caviar for desert
singin' about the disenfranchised
and ruby studded guitars.

I'll be an expat in Doha
drinkin' with the monarchy
speakin' absolute malarkey
playin' tunes for all my brohas
on my ruby studded guitar
in Qatar.

r ~ 6/14/14

This is a beautiful "Barry Hodges" poem.*

Ah, sweet memories of that night in Blarney
In the stout-soaked suburbs of ould Cork City.
How clearly through the mist of alcoholic memory
I recall how we all piled out of Johnny's bar at closing time
****** as a load of proverbial ******* newts;
'Where to now me boys, which bar's still open?'
Shrieked spiflicated Sean O'Shannon
(that's notorious sixteen pints an hour Sean,
the man who won Strictly Come Boozing twice)
As he tottered over to his Pa's new BMW convertible,
Lucky ****** that he is to be son to a Fianna Fáil MEP,
And one not adverse to trousering a Euro or two.

'Sean, me oul' potato, de ye think ye should be driving
With that record-breakin' skinful o' stout
I just seen you put away down your greasy gullet,
Not to mention the quadruple whiskey chaser?'
Enquired loopy Liam O'Lephrechaun as he leaned over
And puked up another gallon of warmish Guinness
Over yours truly as I rolled helplessly in the Ballygrohan road
To the amusement of the gawping bystanders,
Bearing in mind there were a good dozen gobbets
Of half-digested pork scratchings in the froth
Which was causing havoc with my apparel.

So without another feckin' word being spoken
My dear drinking companions and ***** buddies
Left me prostrate and clambered gaily into the waiting car
And roared off into the enchanted Gaelic night;
Singing and smoking themselves silly simultaneously,
So full of the joys of life and the blessed bottle.
And then some ****** stupid American tourist
(doubtless dressed in hideous checked golfing trousers
with a backwards-facing baseball cap on his ugly head,
not to forget his overweight wifey crammed into the front seat
just like a huge white bloated fat-faced hippo),
Came round the next corner in a clapped out rental car
And the two of them got sent to Kingdom-sodding-Come
With a terrible metallic crash which destroyed them completely.

'Oh begorrah and *******, would ye just look at the mess
The feckin eejit's made of me Daddy's Beemer,
And it's his pride and joy so it is to be sure!'
Cried Sean O'Shannon in an alcoholic rage,
As he contemplated the largest insurance claim
In the County Cork for the past six decades,
(at least the largest legitimate one anyway).
Whilst I was trying to get my hipster pants down
To avoid filling them up with beery diarrhoea
Brought on by my involuntary bursts of joyous mirth,
(bejasus, 'twas the second time in the space of a single week
and my new girlfriend was getting a bit fussy about hygiene
bearing in mind she was thinking of taking the veil).

How fortunate old Father Tucker and Garda Sergeant O'Toole
Could both (when they'd sobered up sufficiently)
Testify later from their secure vantage point
In the rear compartment of a nearby parked hearse,
(where they were having a ******* with Deidre,
the filthiest wee **** in the whole South-Western counties)
That the accident was not dear Sean's fault at all, to be sure,
As the other stupid sober yankee ****** was driving at 75
On the wrong friggin' side of the ******' street
Or probably in the middle, come to think of it.
'Sure but Sean's the best driver this side of the Blarney Stone,
And there's no way himself would ever drive under the influence'*
They agreed sagely before going off for another jar or two
And maybe a double knee-trembler with Deidre's fat sister,
One up each of her gaping hair-rimmed orifices.

Verse 1:
Spending a million days chilling like a baller, but I’m still a bachelor,
I’m the master *****, the funk villian,
Killing these ill feelings, like a *******.
Call me Captain Picard, galaxy speeding.
Bumping to tunes, in my Lincoln Navigator.
Living fate with taro cards, ***** bussing.
Cussing out haters, phonies is paper weight.
Knock ‘em out, let me demonstrate.

Verse 2:
Demonstrating, how to knock ‘em out,
These paperweight phonies, and haters imma cuss em out.
Buss em ****, using taro cards, living out fate,
Navigating while linking my tunes, to start bumping.
Speeding through galaxies, like Captain Picard.
I’m a *******, feelings so ill I could ****.
Got that villain funk, ******* call me master.
Balling like a bachelor, just chilling each day spending millions.

Verse 3:
Game has changed, so has the times.
Instead of writing rhymes, peoples is snorting em.
Deranged turn coats full of phlegm.
Instead of pronouncing vowels, they’s mumbling.
Music has become the chum bucket,
With occasional golden gems.
Shout out Denzel, Joey, Johnson, kaan, and Williams.
And I’ll be ****** like a John ham mad man,
If I start shooting up drugs and end up in neverland.
Flying, off the handle, like a dysfunctional Peter Pan.

Verse 4:
I’ve seen dysfunctional Peter’s, plan not pan out,
So, many times they’s handles have fallen off.
Going off to neverland, because them drugs shoot ‘em up.
**** man these kids madder than John Ham.
Why can’t they be more creative like, Williams, kaan, Johnson, Joey, and Denzel man?
I guess not every gems golden,
Like expecting a bucket of chum producing good music.
With many mumbling vowels, bet they can’t even pronounce phlegm.
Fulls coats turned red, feel betrayed, because the sounds turned deranged.
With rappers snorting lines, instead of writing them.
I guess the times has changed, and I guess so too must the game.

Verse 5:
Asked to choose between a beemer, Benz, or Bentley.
All the same when I’m drinking henny on the highway.
Swerving on them fools, than repent on Sunday.
Attempting not to catch a fine, at least till payday.
Spiralling downhill, mayday mayday.
Declining like the popularity of Spyro.
My internal plains a pyro, La lumbre, lumbre.
Think I need a vk, chilling in the jungle with dk.

Verse 6:
Go bananas in the jungle like Dk,
Just swinging, chilling, relaxing like it’s a vk.
Dancing with La lumbre, lumbre,
No fly zone during the eternal pyro.
**** popularity, imma burn down this ***** like I’m Spyro.
Imma never decline someone screaming, mayday, mayday.
If I did I know that would be a downhill spiral.
Where payday just another day,
But I pretend things are fine,
Attempting smiles, whilst receiving a sundae.
Only fools repent, can’t swerve me compadre.
Doing things my way,
Getting drunk and high,
Addictions are all the same.
Numbing the pain, by paying for fancy cars like Bentley’s, Benz’s, and beemers.
Because to choose between would be insane.

I’m the anti-anti, downing 40
Celexa like candy, and brandy is
mouth wash and burning. Side effects may
include: tachy, coma, loss of life.

Dr. U of Penn ***** his wife while I
overdose by his bushes. I promise
not to *****—and I won’t key your blue
Beemer, or let slip the details either

of your standard missionary pose. I’ll
just glimpse your face through the curtain gap,
your wrinkles in the throes of ******,
and have a seizure on your sidewalk, Doc.

Last year my bicycle you borrowed
you returned to me with a punctured tyre
now you wish to borrow my Beemer for the weekend
this time you must pay the price of hire--

my solicitor has drawn for me an agreement
with clauses and sub-clauses clear and entire
if any part of my vehicle is returned with faults
you would be penalised, apart from incurring my biting ire!