half awake politics

my liberal textbook, study guide, and 6 pages of well thought out notes, spill their contents on my desk and fill the mental list of today's accomplishments. I muscle up enough spirit to move on to Malcom X, neatly writing his belief beneath my last tid-bit of checks and balances. Oh american federal government, why do you numb my mental capacity, with your seperation of powers, and never ending supreme court cases. oh the lengths of oppertunity you promise me tomorrow, if it so be i'm not too tired to take advantage of my freedom. and so i shall continue writing, all that my hands will afford, and slowly make my to the civil rights act of 1964. (that last line would make a tight rap). 8 o'clock comes far to quickly, for me to worry about an elogant closing line, and so i'll close this bugger out, with a flashy-fine good-bye.

My Old Man

born into your line
your judgement became mine
and with my lifes first breath
allegiance sworn to death

a lamb to slaughter; wolf of a father
whose love like chains upon my flesh

my old man... soon enough

each morning i rise
to guilt in wakened eyes
and with my yesterday, you taunt into my face
and boast the light of all my shame

your thorn 'neath my feet; i walk as i bleed
a crushed heel between the teeth of...my old man

but soon enough it'll be your head, oh soon enough, soon enough

*my old man, yeah, his name's prideful
shook his fist and gave me an eyeful
all my joy meant all his shame
when he couldn't bare the wealth of the family name

*alan kaiser

Dirt

infant, with only an expectation to light their way
pauper, with irony in cups of dirt and nickels to prove he's genuine
all i see is helplessness and tasteless tongues
that swallow down a poison and rest in its delight

only daughter of an absent father, with running love to catch
oh my son of fists and bruises, with anger's guidance to lead
all i see is vein attempts and lost affections
that search in emptiness to fill

but am i that vain?
am i that blind?
to draw my arrogance like scales upon my eyes

am i that wrong?
am i that deaf?
to think all their cries for grace more helpless than mine

Oh God, be merciful on me

for I am only as clean
as the one whose dirt I choose to see