just a little tidbit for all of you who read my site. my friend, my mentor Mr.Adrian Louis, dedicated a poem for me in his new book Evil Corn which you can find through his website. just click on his name. the poem is called Post-Traumatic Skin Disorder from a little joke we both share. i've been reading evil corn for two days now and find it funny as hell as well as unique and powerful in only the way Adrian can be. check it out, you will really love the poem Arse Poetica.
ciao. j.w.
Tuesday, June 22, 2004
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
wannabe
i used to be able to walk
downtown pine ridge
anytime i wanted
but now i can't even go a block
without some dumb young cock
flashing like a siren
the affiliation he's representing
even children have that
hardcore attitude
and i think "better black than white?"
but either way it does me no good
because i know how quickly
things can become ghetto
as we bust out our windows
and spray paint our walls
names emblazoned to show
who has the scars
in a culture barely preserved
saran-wrapped, gangsta-rapped
while the rest of America
sits in the spoils of war
it’s so easy to become hardcore
especially when there is no one
around to hug you and love you
and to say “I’m proud of you,
i believe in you”
we are all just wannabes
trying to be a little different
and it doesn’t matter whose best
or who comes in second
we should never be ashamed
of our own skin
and if it’s a choice between black or white
then I’d rather fill my own color in
because my family fought hard
and even though they’ve all fallen
i’m gonna climb out of their beercan coffins
and rise from their cigarette ashes
and make them feel proud again
i used to be able to walk
downtown pine ridge
anytime i wanted
but now i can't even go a block
without some dumb young cock
flashing like a siren
the affiliation he's representing
even children have that
hardcore attitude
and i think "better black than white?"
but either way it does me no good
because i know how quickly
things can become ghetto
as we bust out our windows
and spray paint our walls
names emblazoned to show
who has the scars
in a culture barely preserved
saran-wrapped, gangsta-rapped
while the rest of America
sits in the spoils of war
it’s so easy to become hardcore
especially when there is no one
around to hug you and love you
and to say “I’m proud of you,
i believe in you”
we are all just wannabes
trying to be a little different
and it doesn’t matter whose best
or who comes in second
we should never be ashamed
of our own skin
and if it’s a choice between black or white
then I’d rather fill my own color in
because my family fought hard
and even though they’ve all fallen
i’m gonna climb out of their beercan coffins
and rise from their cigarette ashes
and make them feel proud again
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