This Week: Poetic Justice

Everybody wants a taste of the ‘hood

Everybody sings a long with the songs about doing no good

But if you laid there, if you stayed there and couldn’t escape

How many hooks would you repeat about the dirty money you make?

When I was younger the cool thing was to wear baggy pants

Have a limp in your step til you hop up in mom’s minivan

Wearing And1’s and Polo, maybe a Nike wristband

Cuz you’re a baller, shot caller, right? That’s how the words go?

What if you knew they’re only expectation was you go to jail or go pro?

What if you did move on and upward, toward a college degree?

And you excel and do well despite their suspect on your pedigree

You’re all black in all-white schools

In the back but you’re no fool

But the last time you sat front row

The professor slowed down when he spoke to you

And every time you speak up they’re surprised at your eloquence

And should you let loose in front of friends

You hear gasps and “Oh my gosh, say that again!”

Like a puppet. A showman. Just a little more well-spoken than those crazy ones in the YouTube video they’re forwardin’

Is it fair for you to anger or be frustrated at this scene?

After all you were in the library with Soulja Boy on your laptop screen

And then your ringtone went off and Kanye crooned “ghetto university”

And that’s where you grew up, in the School of Hard Knocks

Rocks in palms on your block and you did your best to get out without a jump or gunshot

But, who said they needed saving? Who said they needed help?

Plenty are satisfied and don’t fold despite the hand that they’ve been dealt

When “experts” tell them it’s too much for them to bear

That someone must step in and show “the underprivileged” we care

We have what they don’t. We can succeed where they won’t.

They is not black, they is anyone who has ever been held back

And told that they were equal

They is anyone who was put up in a coop, or sat out on a stoop

‘Cause they were not welcome in buildings, though they paid taxes, too.

They is not Muslim, they is anyone who has ever been held back

When they just tried to move forward. But somehow every time they’re chosen from a random assortment

And then holed up in a room. Hold up. You’ll be released soon.

They is not Jew, they is anyone who was imprisoned in a place they were told would have enough room

But because of their looks, because they looked like they could be crooks

Even though they did no crime except to protest what sat on the books

Persecuted for money, of which they had none, and because they were broke the only choice for their first son

Was be cut up and dragged out, before he could witness the warm sun

There’s not enough room on this mattress for plus one

Not enough air in the casket you pay rent for every month

But somehow every Thanksgiving you fit the whole family in

Grateful at least for a meal and a place to block out the wind

So take back your advice and your Superman complex

That attitude is obtuse your spirit is convex

You’re thinking because you were schooled, because you read about it in school

That you know the rules and the needs and the way to save me from this cruel world

You school boy and school girl

you have attended university but still have no concept of adversity

No respect for diversity.  And you studied facts but you haven’t learned me

You can’t come in with your theories and stethoscope trying to cure

things of which you’re unsure

So be humble and open your eyes to the reason that I’m hurt, but don’t cry

I don’t have luxury to sit by. There are mouths to feed, clothes to dry

And I take the 6 bus to the Red line then walk a few blocks to the bread line

And get back in an hour so that I can pick my daughter up on time

I don’t lay hands except for prayer, so don’t assume I’ll fight back when you arrive

Come with an open mind. Although you’re degree says you’re qualified

You never lived and haven’t seen,

so step back before you step in to save me from misery

This isn’t a study…but you can learn a lot in this ghetto university.

-CelesteAurora