always had a penchant for box cutters...
2003-07-29, 3:05 p.m.
When are all of these overeducated, fake-philosophical,
pompous prick psychother-rapists gonna' learn that
the glass isn't half empty. or half full.
the glass just fucking is.
like i just is...
like you just is...
like all god's chillun's just is.
Ya' know, i never understood this ideal world where
people are forced into these
little fucking black and white boxes
with white fluffy cats
and white picket fences...
this ideal world where there are no
boogeymen hiding under beds,
no monsters hiding behind closet doors,
and no drunken daddies hiding their dicks in their palms...
I never understood this ideal world where
God created the Heavens and the Earth,
and Elvis was God,
and I could be God...
if i could just tell good enough stories to make people listen.
But, see, i ain't ever known this "ideal" world...
ain't ever fit into no black or white boxes,
ain't ever had a white picket fence...
I thought black people were purple
and Indians were red,
and i've got these fucking scars
up and down my arms.
and up and down my legs.
'cause i wanted to be red too.
I wanted to feel the Indian blood of my gramma'
course down my shins in rivulets of Red River water...
I wanted to be red like my gramma'...
Wanted to chase after the boogeymen
with a wooden spoon and apron strings,
running barefoot down the dirt hallway
weilding words as weapons at the white men
that came to take her kids away...
and the shirt off her back.
"Git on outta' heyah! GIT THE FUCK ON OUTTA' HEYAH!"
Yeah, get the fuck on outta' here
with your ideal world
and your black and white fucking boxes,
pack that shit up
and send it on back home
to your racist, homophobic, sexist, ageist, bible-beatin'
momma. and daddy.
and gramma. and granddaddy.
and tear down your picket fences,
weild words of your own,
strip free of your biases, and then...
strip free of your clothes...
Pull on some poetry,
and we'll see how far we can spit it
at my home.
'Cause i ain't got no black and white boxes there,
and i ain't got no white picket fence...
Just this... picture of my gramma'...
(we never even met.)
in her best black and white Sunday dress.
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