Black Poetry : Traped

SayWord

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Sep 21, 2003
303
3
I'm trapped in a world.
A world hat don't like my kind.
Why you ask?
`Cause I'm my kind.
And they are they kind.
Our kinds don't mix.
Little Red men,
Walking around in Giant Black suits.
Giant Green men,
Walking around in Pink, High-water bellbottoms with no t-shirts.
You wanna know why?
`Cause clothes make the man.
They walk around looking up at me,
But they eyes is really looking down.
I get my hands dirty everyday trying to live,
While they laugh and play at company picnics.
I make they cars run.
I make they cars clean.
I make they house warm.
I make everything,
But I ain't got ish.
I'm trapped here.
I wanna be a farmer.
Can't plant my seeds in asphalt.
My children wanna be doctors and lawyers,
Can't teach them what I don't know.
Children wanna be born with Giant Black suits,
Not Pink, High-water bellbottoms with no t-shirts.
`Cause clothes make the man.
They don't wanna make everything
And get nothing.
They wanna do nothing,
And get everything.
Poor children.
Maybe I shouldn't fight to live.
But that's all I know.
To live is to fight.
I'm so confused.
All I se are Iron towers,
And more Iron towers.
With Little Red men,
With their Little Red wives.
I make everything.
While they sit on they porch
Drinking they high priced lemonade.
I get it freshly squeezed.
They buy new antenas,
I use hangars(sometimes paper clips)
They live to live,
I live ready to die.
I get on my knees and pray to God.
They act like god,
While they look up at me,
With they eyes looking down.
 

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