Rich Men Get All the GirlsBack to the door frame, doorway, enter to the entrance hall,Rich Men Get All the Girls3 weeks ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
the same feeling that you get when you're dreaming and fall.
It's surprising that you even had the event at all.
But everything is an event when you're that small.
Stairway to the left leading to rooms unseen,
kitchen cupboards and the countertops painted green.
A hole in the wall from when your dad got mean.
Your mother spent hours making it look clean,
but you remember how hand and wrist seemed to bleed,
and how he wrapped in your grandmother's favorite sheet.
Got the shelves in the living room covered in picture frames,
the oldest pictures of your family and you don't know their names.
Sat around as you opened gifts, what an awkward wait.
Your family smiling, saying, "It's your day!"
Your dad was late, not unusual.
He was never home 'til after school.
It was the year you asked him about a swimming pool,
and he flung a beer bottle by your head from his favorite stool.
It was the memories of the bad times, hidden by the grea
TVI don’t watch it.TV1 week ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
It sits in my room collecting dust
Tumblr updates me.
The internet is the source of real news, alternatively speaking
I study from it, and use it for self-education.
Who said I need a paper to be educated?
The same people who make the laws
The people that enslave us all
Wanting us to get into the system
Of debt and obligation for the rest of your life
Back in the days when society wasn’t a thing
Colleges were free and knowledge wasn’t for money
Now knowledge is nothing more than a tool to work for our slavers
All you see on TV is things that will save you
from debt, but there’s a price, always a price
You go join the military give up 20 years for indoctrination
while losing your humanity and choking on antidepressants
That was me, 3 years already brainwashed
couldn’t remember why I joined them
couldn’t remember my life before them
3 years in already choking on Zoloft for PTSD
He’s crazy they said, blaming me for everything
The PlanterWhen I was young,The Planter1 month ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I had a small planter that sat outside my bedroom window.
Oh, did that thing glow.
A tiny spectrum of color, all presented by the petals, the leaves.
How I cherished that planter.
How I loved it with everything my little body could give.
I called myself its father,
watering its aspirations and coaxing its shy stems closer and closer to the sky.
I wanted them to fly.
I wanted them to live.
When I was young,
my mother used to goad me about children.
Of course, I was still too small to even understand
the complexities of real fatherhood,
but I still craved it.
Before I knew what it meant to crave a child of my own,
a creation of my own struggles,
my own frustrations to nurse and love and care for,
I craved it.
Maybe I even needed it.
But they had it right when they called fate cruel.
It's more than that.
It's downright ironic.
When I was young,
I met a woman with perfect blue hair
and eyes that saw nothing and Everything all at once.
She told me that my loss would reap v