IM SICK AND TIRED of you thinking that the only thing I do on a daily basis is get up drag my feet to go and eat my cocoa puffs, sit back, max and relax, watch cartoons and reminisce about 8 tracks.
NAH **** THAT!
Because it doesnt matter to you that I’ve proven how intelligent I am,
because
you still think my skin is a sham and I’m supposed to be in the back of a classroom hardly able to read and write my name because thats how the
“good” ones have been tamed.
But the lights are dim back there because the brighter students get the brighter lights in the front row chairs.
My hand is raised the entire hour and 15 minutes but you never even attempt to stutter my name.
Because what I say is not your reality.
As far as you are concerned it is incorrect. I have tourettes with absolutely no regrets as to what I say,
but I’ll make **** sure that you know the truth.
I get my paper back and it says “plagiarized”...
now what the **** makes you think that?
Because I can use words that have more than 3 syllables and form a sentence in your vernacular this is syntactically more capable than anything that your low IQ has ever been able to form easily?
I apologize.
For not being politically ignorant
ebonically incorrect
and generally not being dumb enough for you to laugh and point to call me ******.

Please, Slim Shady...sit the **** down...this is grown up talk now.
Realize. The colonizer knows not of his privilege because he blindly walks with it.
While we, I mean me, walk very knowingly with shackles and chains with your name, that speak she has not yet been tamed with every jingle, and threatening step that I take toward the invasion of your future.

I’ve taken all your required high school courses
******* Pretentiousness English 3 and 4.
And my score means absolutely nothing, despite the fact that it is higher than your front row chairs that stare and nod robotically, because they are afraid to question your ability.
Understand...your PhD means jackshit to me.

Don’t hurt yourself in trying to comprehend.
You’d probably go insane but lets not try to think about that.
Lets get back to your wack *** philosophy that I because I don’t speak in the proper vernacular I don’t know nothin’.
Like the fact that what I just said is a double negative. But see its funny, because when I use ebonics and incorporate double negatives to illustrate a point, I’m ignorant.
And yet Mark Twain is a literary genius for doing the exact same thing.

Would it change if I said that Mark Twain was black?
But I wouldn’t do that.

It would set me up for an attack and you’d try to have these literary comebacks and I’d have to smack....
some knowledge on you.
That your Twain, got his twang from being in the main presence of we. And yes I mean we. As in people like me, and Talib Kweli. Or to date back in history Phillis Wheatley, who messed with you psychologically, but you thought she was too stupid and you are too naive to see that she was an O.G.
The true original gangster.

There are too many -e’s
but they are necessary to eeeeeeevoke,
no elicit the response your failing to recognize that your ties to 21st century humanity are short
ragg’ed
and slowly splintering away.

You missed those entire 3 pages in your history textbooks when it said that
BLACK doesn’t make any less of a person.
BLACK is a crayon color.
And BLACK doesn’t even exist in skin color...we are brown.
That was another thing your genius colorblind mind refused to recognize.

I am stamping “plagiarized” on every Mark Twain book ever written because our swag was stolen!
In 1492 Columbus sailed to ocean blue
to give us diseases and call us illiterate savages.
Thats not very nice...better table manners would be appreciated. (And we’re the savages)

YOU CAN TAKE THIS PAPER AND...
use it as a book mark. Those history books are screaming your name, its time to answer your call.
Come back to me when you realize that I am intelligent and hold the key to all that is not  a rainbow
or unicorn and fairy princesses.
We all live in reality that your bright lights and shiny piece of paper is blocking you from seeing.
Come to the back where the lights are dim,
and your dissed on a whim,
but it helps you realize that just maybe...
your life is plagiarized.

Dear Motivation, you leave then return.
You come with a strike and exit without a word.
If only I could capture you to stay inside my head.
I seem to forget your presence, so you fade away instead.

Motivation, you are the most important in my universe.
With you, I can perfect a song I have never rehearsed.
Motivation, you give me the strength to conquer the world.
No obstacle is too large. All my ideas become pearls.

Motivate me, Earth- aurally or syntactically;
Whether it's through the beauty of nature or a man-made factory.
Give me that thrill, that power, that urge for thought.
Please hurry to me, Motivation. Don't leave me distraught.

I know you will arrive. In no way do I doubt,
But my impatience grows for you like thirst in a drought.
When you come near, oh, I will be sure to pull you in.
Because without you, Motivation, I'm a fish without a fin.

The one who faulter
Always see the misuse of clausal
In words other folks utter
But their own level of blunder
Is beyond semantic border

When people see the Faulter
Their voice’s got to come down
I mean; they’d got to mutter
Or else he’ll out-hauled ya
And make y’all feel like defaulter

Anyway; don’t bother
He’s just a wave; I mean disturbance
Who’s trying to put you under
And make you feel like you’re smaller
With the hurting words he utter

The one who faulter
I see; you get phrasal appraisal
For those you syntactically ******
And those that you make feel like you’re worth than
And for your ballyhoo blabber

The one who faulter
Always note the mistake of others
See; the one who faulter
Always speak to impress
When others do express _ themselves __ he jest
Aiming to make them feel less

The one who faulter
I heard your first name is grammer
You’re the top gammer; infact you’re the alpha
But; how far
Is that a reason for you to see others as gamma

The one who faulter
Always put on his shoulder
You know; a linguistic hunter
With his fanatic grammer
But listen to this word-art
Fluency is not the portal
To a successful life span

Let’s put that aside
Why’d you act like you can’t commit liguicide
When none is above grammatical suicide
So, why give yourself ah heart-attack
Or pro’ly ended-up berserked

You call yourself a philosopher; I wonder
Have you win a soul over
Or it’s fun making heart sober
And de-philosophising others
But unlike them; your psych cannot put me asunder

The one who faulter
Tell me; what have you achieved
Beside you being a criticizer
Brother; don’t that make you a freak
Coz your mind state ‘s been altar

Now listen
Even scientist like newton
And others who invented interesting new thing
Don’t need your linguistic-type English
To express their point of view
Hope that concept gets to you
*
Anyway Mr Faulter
The aim of language is to understand each other
So, leave the grammatical slogan
For the linguish brother
More important; English is not the language of my ancestral father

I need to sell this Caddy to the Cardinal
and get my lifelong harbinger mood swing
out from the wilderness of oblique directives
written with the strident ***** of Satan
shaking money from my pockets again
like they do in Burmese shadow theater
where the container is the contained
trying to let it miss your attention won't fly
because we obstinately index the cornucopia
in a total lack of continuity all at once
with a pigeon tongue spoken in barter
fit only for bouncy news anchor banter
pancake makeup a bit too aflame
like the Great Blazing Spiral in the Sky
his mind a bordello of interpretation
memes eating his soul like red worms
only my degree from the School for the Sickly
standing tolerably vigilant between me
and the dervish nuns of St. Manacle
doing their Plantation Branding Iron Dance
for chopped liver epicures at the Bank of Winter
conniving with the demented to create a better world
living dead men's dreams like a second skin
he hated coercion like he hated licorice
his collective unconscious operation manual
tossed on the burn pile half a life ago
going from syntactically correct to uncooked
in infinitesimal quantities with a Nefertiti smile
perpetually enthused by the mystery of tomorrow
just don't try to tell me how to move my eyelids
barely able to walk after the derision of linguists
lobbed horseshoes across my barricades
on a search and destroy mission
and that's space for you
beginning with  the rank elements
God is not dead he is passe etc.
nature is unquestionably to be leashed etc.
a raised by wolves feral non-conformist
everything orbits everything else
which will bend yer crank kid
tried quoting Lenin but it was too easy
the proletariat is people in a pickle
the dueling cucumbers of class warfare
it was a kosher Pentecost event
now I'm on a dozen watch lists
followed by Diana's paparazzi
to this claustrophobic cinemaplex
and its temporal artery of light
at 3 o:clock in the afternoon
a good cheap remedy
following a bad diagnosis

From "Pageant of Naked Mischief" available on Amazon