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Sweet Dreams
The TV plays its regularly scheduled programming.
“Hi there! Do you ever feel powerless?! Lacking confidence?! Unfit?! Missing color?! Or just bored with everything?! Well, we have some good news for YOU! For all that can be fixed with our new book, that can turn anyone’s life into something meaningful!
“Introducinggggggg….MAKE A SLAVE!!!!!!!!! Turn anyone, and we mean anyone into the slave of your choosing! NOW. You may be asking yourself...Is that possible? Legal? Or even morally right? Well, if you’re asking those questions, Congratulations! You’re already a slave! Hooooorrrrrraaaaayyyyyy! But if not, let’s show you how it's done.
STEP 1: GET THAT MONEY!
Easiest of the steps, can be done in numerous ways. Like, increasing the taxes of the poor! Hiding money in banks! Tricking others in donations! “Borrowing” from countries' budgets! Scaring people for shit or just simply asking for small loans of millions of dollars!
STEP 2: PLANT THEM SEEDS!
Another easy step! Take that money and buy everything that is media! News Broadcasts! Sports Networks! Cheesy Sitcoms! Cartoons! Newspapers! Radio! Websites! Music Stations! Social Networks! Anything that people look to for knowledge, since they don’t know who to think for themselves!
STEP 3: MONKEY SEE!
Nowwwwww……..Brainwash them!…..Oops! Can we cut that out? It's ok? You sure? Ok!....Brainwash them!!!!
Young Black Male
In my life, my pants sag like my eyes,
exhausted from school and the dramas with it.
She did this,
he did that,
dude it was ill,
wow she’s getting fat.
This is my life.
Most Popular Works
Baby Boy
Baby, come play peekaboo with our son. Look how excited he gets!
Sorry, I can’t. I’m too busy trying to figure out how I’m gonna pay for these hospital bills.
Honey, come look! He’s trying to play candy crush on my phone. Oh my God, he’s so cute! He just tried to lick the screen!
Not now babe, I’m trying to figure out how I’m gonna get us into a better neighborhood.
Hey babe, come look! He’s trying to play freeze tag outside. God help him, he can’t even stand still.
Another time sweetie, I’m busy trying to figure out how I’m gonna get him into private school.
Honey, can you tell our son to stop playing that damn Call of Duty and to study for his exam tomorrow.?
Maybe later love, I’m too busy trying to figure out how I’m going get him into driving school.
Baby! I just found out YOUR son was playing beer bong at his friends last weekend. You need to talk to him and tell him that’s NOT ok!
Not now honey, I’m trying to figure out how to sign him up for the SATs.
Babe, you need to talk to the boy! Did you know he has three dates with three different girls? You need to tell him to stop playing games and to find a good one.
Later honey, I’m really busy trying to figure out how I’m gonna get him into college.
Wow! You should have come to the game baby! Our son scored the game winning touchdown! I’m bringing you to the next one. I don’t care what you say.
Next time babe, I’m trying to figure out how I’m gonna pay his college tuition.
Todd, no one could've prevented the car accident. Now please, come to the funeral with me.
Sorry, I can’t. I’m too busy trying to figure out if I ever told him, that I loved him.
Good Kid
Today,
I heard a laughter
It reminded me of my innocence.
When I was innocent
to the world.
A pearl in the ocean,
like that character from Spongebob.
Where Bob meant Bob, not Bobby.
When booby was a curse word,
and curses existed when I broke mirrors,
or spilled salt.
Or got “salty” when I saw others play outside
with water guns.
While trapped inside,
I’d ask, “why?”
“Because Mommy said so.”
I wondered why mother did what she did
But I look outside
and I am reminded,
as they ran around
and shot each other.
as you grow up,
people don't change,
only the guns.
Workshop Group A
Ok.
What's the title?
.....
It'll come to me.
Let the flows of "poeticness" begin.
Roses are red...
No, blood red...
No, lipstick red...
Ahhhh,
I'm thinking too much.
Roses are red,
violets are blue….
No ocean blue.
Sky blue?
Let me start over.
Think.
Think.
Think.
Think.
Think.
Done!
Ok.
16 copies right?
Damn, that's a lot of paper,
but what a masterpiece.
A work of art.
A manifestation of God himself.
Let's see them "critique" this.
Ok.
I'mmmm.......4th!
Perfect.
Don't have to set the tone.
Don't have to finish strong.
Jesus, that was a good poem.
That one was even better.
How do I even critique this?
Are you gonna say something?
Yes?
No?
Yes?
No?
Yes?
Yes?!
Oh, too late.
Crap, it's my turn.
Ok.
Wait I have to read too?!
I....I can't read my own stuff.
God my poem sucks.
Please be gentle.
Why...why is nobody talking.
They hate it, they all hate it.
God I suck.
Someone please talk.
Huh? A compliment?
Ayyyyye, I'm the best poet in here.
Oh wait, no, that was criticism.
Oh the words, the painful words,
they sink into my soul,
planting doubt into my very existence.
Rooting out any hope of being,
noticeable.
Oh that was deep,
I should write that down.
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