For Tossed Salads, and Other Human Wastes

© 1 June 2009, The Griot Poet
(Written assisting a middle school class in East Austin)

I
Am
Infuriated at
Seed donors
That for one night’s
Pleasure
Refused to measure beyond
Liters
Or
Years
The
Impact
Of
Their
Actions…
They might as well as put the gun to their son’s heads.

1 in 3
Will spend their
Time in the penitentiary
(Instead of a university),
Becoming a useful
Member to society…
Rather than a menace and dark
Statistic…

1 in 4
Will follow 2 PAC
& Biggie,
Unraveling the mystery if “Heaven’s got a ghetto” (not!).
I want 5 minutes with
The WANNA-be
Gang-banger,
That measures his manhood, by collecting “baby mammas” repeating the desperate, death drama

Making Martin (like Marvin) “WANNA HOLLA, and throw up both his hands…,”

Laying hands on him SWIFTLY,

With the background of intellectually coming out of this kind of hell and a full 30 years of martial arts FURY!

Your baby is still crying, brother!

In a harsh world:

Bloods, CRIPS, Latin Kings, Gangster Disciples, MS 13s…

Bluffing and Bogarting his way through because he doesn’t understand: his model is “missing in action” on HOW to be a man!