Monday, March 22, 2010

In St. Louis

I (My City is a Science)

The Arch's elevator follows the rules of gravity

It rises at it's maximum speed,

Slowing down as it reaches the top,

Stops

Looks around,

Descends,

And reaches the ground at the same speed

Until it hits the brakes.


II (My City is a Burden)

She wrote my tombstone at age 15,

Said that I would be buried on top of her

She said that I was more than a child to her,

That I would be able to protect her

To defend her,

I want to love her,

But the bullies at school have those "momma" jokes

And sometimes, they're right,

And sometimes, I feel my eye twitch

And I know this isn't the way it's supposed to be


III (My City is a Protector)

My city cries water,

My city cries leaves,

My city cries liquor,

My city cries weed,

My city cries blood

My city cries needs

My city cries contacts

My city cries weave

My city cries anger

My city cries breeze

My city cries murder

My city cries pleads

My city cries drug deals,

My city cries fees

My city cries rivers

My city dried me


IV (My City is a Trending Topic)

#FoolsInSTL holla at women like car alarms

#FoolsInSTL make metro rides a hassle

#FoolsinSTL wear forces with cargos

#FoolsInSTL never know when to stay away

#FoolsInSTL eat Chinese food made by black men

#FoolsInSTL have no business on our campus

#FoolsInSTL play jazz like prayers

#FoolsInSTL sing jazz like hymnals

#FoolsInSTL think they're real

#FoolsinSTL will hurt me if I look at them weird

RT @SuchAndSuch #FoolsInSTL have no business on our campus (<--COSIGN! LOLZ)


V (My City is a Zoo)

Years ago,

A popular dare at Washington University

Was to travel into the hoods of St. Louis

To see how far you could get

Without getting hurt.

It's like putting your hand into the tiger's cage,

Draped in scholarships and entitlement,

Which probably tastes like ribs

And waving at the tiger

Who's too afraid

To be put to sleep

For biting the hand

that taunts it.


Maybe I should be that tiger,

Grab you by the fingers

And slam you against the bars,

Let you remember how tigers are in the wild,

Let my fur run against your shaking arms

Snarl the same way lions do,

And let them stick a needle in my neck

Let me close my eyes

And know that the last thing I tasted

Was this.


VI (My City is a Bullet)

When a gun is fired into the air,

It begins traveling at it's highest speed,

Decreasing as it gets higher

Stopping in mid air.

It looks around,

Admires the view,

And falls

At the same speed it rose,

Until it lands

Somewhere.


VII (My City is a Nigga)

I am a St. Louis nigga,

I am Cardinal red nigga

I am pigs feet kind of nigga,

I am riverfront times kind of nigga,

I am imos pizza nigga

I am Mizzou fan nigga

I am twisties and beer type nigga

I am bullet-hole kiss dreads type nigga

I am tax-refund type-nigga

I am "stompin in my Air Force Ones" nigga,

I am not Nelly, nigga,

When's the last time you've seen St. Louis nigga

Say you live here, nigga,

Say this city neglects you, nigga,

Say it doesn't protect you, nigga,

Say you don't need it, nigga,

Say it doesn't need you, nigga,

Say it doesn't affect you nigga

Nigga

I am St. Louis, nigga


VIII (My City is a City)

A friend of mine said

the Delmar Loop

would be so much better

if WashU just bought it out.

A friend of mine tried

to make frustrations with 3

people in the city

global.

A friend of mine said

these people

aren't worthy of having

children

A friend of mine said

they wonder

why life will never

get better for them

A friend of mine said

the universities

are all that matters

in this city

A friend of mine said

the people in St. Louis

are best used for

community Service

because it looks good

on her resume

A friend of mine said

these are the nation's

unwanted pregnancies

A friend of mine said

this city

doesn't exist

And I wish I could tell them

to stop it.


IX (My City is Not a Child)

Washington University

Remember

That you are still

In St. Louis


X(My City is a Mother)

She decorated my tomb at 21,

She asks if I will be ready to come home

And I smile

At this lady who raised me

To be as proud as her arch-shaped smile

And river-shaped fingers

That hold this country in her grip


XI (My City is Me)

I rose at the speed my mother launched me

Stopped at the top

Am admiring the view

Knowing that eventually

I'll fall

At the same speed I was launched

And will land

Back home.

comments (0)

Monday, March 1, 2010

Where My Short People At?

In sperm banks across America, thousands upon thousands of men are turned away daily because of several "defects." You can be turned away because of a low sperm count, a sign of infertility. You can be turned away because of physical disabilities or for being deformed. You can be turned away for having a mental disability. And, you can be turned away for being too short.


And by too short, I don't mean 4'5" or something. The acceptable height for a sperm donor is 5'8" or above. If you have any one of the defects listed, you are considered "Undesirable"

Funny thing about the process: They give a personality test. Sometimes, the person who controls the test is instructed to reject people who have an undesirable personality...but they tend to accept people with piss-poor personalities because their physical desirability is so high.

Guess what, my 5'7" and below brothas! You're defective! You're natural genetic code has been deemed a deformity, and through practices like this, it's being handled. Be proud, you've become an undesired minority in a world of skyscraper males and the females who are taught to look up instead of right in front of them!

What I find funny is that personality comes so far after looks in a time when political correctness is supposed to make us think that the opposite is true. (I guess the funniest thing is that height is considered harmful to one's looks.) In the end, though, it makes sense. People will always say what's politically correct as long as they can still act as honest to their hearts (read: libidos) as possible.

Well, I'm here to represent for my short folk, who are persecuted everyday. Whether its the realm of relationships or the realm of business (which aren't very separate worlds, I'll have you know), we short people are tired of being treated like creatures to be tossed aside for your own selfish gains. We will not become an afterthought in your eugenic genocide of our people! Short people, get on a chair and STAND UP!

As a short person:

1) I demand shirts that fit my size without falling to my knees!
2) I demand the same level of respect and possible upward mobility as my taller counterparts in the workplace.
3) I am tired of hearing the political correct jargon of acceptance and willingness from lying women who refuse to acknowledge my identity as a man, instead acknowledging me as a kid.
4) I am tired of my good leadership abilities being attributed to a Napoleon complex.
5) You will NOT use me as an armrest unless I am allowed to thunderpunch you in the genitalia.
6) I am tired of people thinking that because you can literally look down on me, you can figuratively look down on me.
7) I refuse to be called little brother when I'm fucking older than you.
8) I am just as capable at any act as someone who is a few inches taller than me.
9) I demand a reevaluation of worth based on aesthetics. Just because I'm half your size doesn't mean that my worth is half yours.
10) I demand acknowledgement that, as a short person, I am treated different by a society that prizes height. This is especially apparent in the black community, with a higher average height. I am rightfully disappointed in a race that has been socially marginalized since being in this country for taking part in the marginalization of people who fall just short of the national average height.

I hold this truth to be self-evident: All people are created equal. It's just sad that I have to stand on a stage for you all to notice it.

comments (1)

Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)