The Guest House
Mewlana Rumi
1270
The
human being is a guest house.
Every
morning a new arrival.
A
joy, a depression, a meanness,
some
momentary awareness comes
As
an unexpected visitor.
Welcome
and entertain them all!
Even
if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who
violently sweep your house
empty
of its furniture,
still
treat each guest honorably.
He
may be clearing you out
for
some new delight.
The
dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet
them at the door laughing,
and
invite them in.
Changes
Tupac
1998
Come
on come on
I
see no changes. Wake up in the morning and I ask myself,
"Is
life worth living? Should I blast myself?"
I'm
tired of bein' poor and even worse I'm black.
My
stomach hurts, so I'm lookin' for a purse to snatch.
Cops
give a damn about a negro? Pull the trigger, kill a negro, he's a hero.
Give
the crack to the kids who the hell cares? One less hungry mouth on the welfare.
First
ship 'em dope and let 'em deal to brothers.
Give
'em guns, step back, and watch 'em kill each other.
"It's
time to fight back", that's what Huey said.
2
shots in the dark now Huey's dead.
I
got love for my brother, but we can never go nowhere
unless
we share with each other. We gotta start makin' changes.
Learn
to see me as a brother 'stead of 2 distant strangers.
And
that's how it's supposed to be.
How
can the Devil take a brother if he's close to me?
I'd
love to go back to when we played as kids
but
things changed, and that's the way it is
Come
on come on
That's
just the way it is
Things'll
never be the same
That's
just the way it is
aww
yeah
I
see no changes. All I see is racist faces.
Misplaced
hate makes disgrace to races we under.
I
wonder what it takes to make this one better place...
let's
erase the wasted.
Take
the evil out the people, they'll be acting right.
'Cause
both black and white are smokin' crack tonight.
And
only time we chill is when we kill each other.
It
takes skill to be real, time to heal each other.
And
although it seems heaven sent,
we
ain't ready to see a black President, uhh.
It
ain't a secret don't conceal the fact...
the
penitentiary's packed, and it's filled with blacks.
But
some things will never change.
Try
to show another way, but they stayin' in the dope game.
Now
tell me what's a mother to do?
Bein'
real don't appeal to the brother in you.
You
gotta operate the easy way.
"I
made a G today" But you made it in a sleazy way.
Sellin'
crack to the kids. "I gotta get paid,"
Well
hey, well that's the way it is.
We
gotta make a change...
It's
time for us as a people to start makin' some changes.
Let's
change the way we eat, let's change the way we live
and
let's change the way we treat each other.
You
see the old way wasn't working so it's on us to do
what
we gotta do, to survive.
And
still I see no changes. Can't a brother get a little peace?
There's
war on the streets and the war in the Middle East.
Instead
of war on poverty,
they
got a war on drugs so the police can bother me.
And
I ain't never did a crime I ain't have to do.
But
now I'm back with the facts givin' 'em back to you.
Don't
let 'em jack you up, back you up, crack you up and pimp smack you up.
You
gotta learn to hold ya own.
They
get jealous when they see ya with ya mobile phone.
But
tell the cops they can't touch this.
I
don't trust this, when they try to rush I bust this.
That's
the sound of my tool. You say it ain't cool, but mama didn't raise no fool.
And
as long as I stay black, I gotta stay strapped and I never get to lay back.
'Cause
I always got to worry 'bout the payback.
Some
buck that I roughed up way back... comin' back after all these years.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat. That's the way
it is. uhh
Some
things will never change
I, Too
Langston Hughes
1958
I,
too, sing America.
I
am the darker brother.
They
send me to eat in the kitchen
When
company comes,
But
I laugh,
And
eat well,
And
grow strong.
Tomorrow,
I’ll
be at the table
When
company comes.
Nobody’ll
dare
Say
to me,
“Eat
in the kitchen,”
Then.
Besides,
They’ll
see how beautiful I am
And
be ashamed—
I,
too, am America.
The Last Picture In The World
Al Purdy
2000
A
hunched grey shape
framed
by leaves
with
lake water behind
standing
on our
little
point of land
like
a small monk
in
a green monastery
meditating
almost sculpture
except
that it's alive
brooding
immobile permanent
for
half an hour
a
blue heron
and
it occurs to me
that
if I were to die at this moment
that
picture would accompany me
wherever
I am going
for
part of the wayA Red, Red Rose
Robbie
Burns
1794
O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.
So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my
dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my
dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.
Wilderness
Gothic
Al
Purdy
1968
Across Roblin Lake, two shores
away,
they are sheathing the church
spire
with new metal. Someone hangs in
the sky
over there from a piece of rope,
hammering and fitting God's
belly-scratcher,
working his way up along the
spire
until there's nothing left to
nail on-
Perhaps the workman's faith
reaches beyond:
touches intangibles, wrestles
with Jacob,
replacing rotten timber with pine
thews,
pounds hard in the blue cave of
the sky,
contends heroically with
difficult problems
of gravity, sky navigation and
mythopoeia,
his volunteer time and labour
donated to God,
minus sick benefits of course on
a non-union job-
Fields around are yellowing into
harvest,
nestling and fingerling are sky
and water borne,
death is yodelling quiet in green
woodlots,
and bodies of three young birds
have disappeared
in the sub-surface of the new
county highway-
That picture is incomplete, part
left out
that might alter the whole Dürer
landscape:
gothic ancestors peer from
medieval sky,
dour faces trapped in photograph
albums escaping
to clop down iron roads with
matched greys:
work-sodden wives groping inside
their flesh
for what keeps moving and
changing and flashing
beyond and past the long frozen
Victorian day.
A sign of fire and brimstone? A
two-headed calf
born in the barn last night? A
sharp female agony?
An age and a faith moving into
transition,
the dinner cold and new-baked
bread a failure,
deep woods shiver and water drops
hang pendant,
double yolked eggs and the house
creaks a little-
Something is about to happen.
Leaves are still.
Two shores away, a man hammering
in the sky.
Perhaps he will fall.
For
Annie
Leonard
Cohen
1972
With Annie gone,
whose eyes to compare
with the morning sun?
Not that I did compare,
But I do compare
Now that she's gone.
The Drumlin Woodchuck
Robert
Frost
1918
One thing has a shelving bank,
Another a rotting plank,
To give it cozier skies
And make up for its lack of size.
My own strategic retreat 5
Is where two rocks almost meet,
And still more secure and snug,
A two-door burrow I dug.
With those in mind at my back
I can sit forth exposed to attack
10
As one who shrewdly pretends
That he and the world are
friends.
All we who prefer to live
Have a little whistle we give,
And flash, at the least alram 15
We dive down under the farm.
We allow some time for guile
And don't come out for a while
Either to eat or drink.
We take occasion to think. 20
And if after the hunt goes past
And the double-barreled blast
(Like war and pestilence
And the loss of common sense),
If I can with confidence say 25
That still for another day,
Or even another year,
I will be there for you, my dear,
It will be because, though small
As measured against the All, 30
I have been so instinctively
thorough
About my crevice and burrow.
Bluebird
Charles
Bukowski
1992
there's a bluebird in my heart
that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not
going
to let anybody see 5
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart
that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and
inhale
cigarette smoke 10
and the shopkeepers
the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there. 15
there's a bluebird in my heart
that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess 20
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe? 25
there's a bluebird in my heart
that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let
him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep. 30
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little 35
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our 40
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do you? 45
The Sporting Life
The Decembrists
2005
I
fell on the playing field
The
work of an errant heel
The
din of the crowd and the loud commotion
Went
deafening silence and stopped emotion
The
season was almost done
We
managed it 12 to 1
So
far I had known no humiliation
In
front of my friends and close relations
There's
my father looking on
And
there's my girlfriend arm in arm
With
the captain of the other team
And
all of this is clear to me
They
condescend and fix on me a frown
How
they love the sporting life
And
father had had such hopes
For
a son who would take the ropes
And
fulfill all his old athletic aspirations
But
apparently now there's some complications
But
while I am lying here
Trying
to fight the tears
I'll
prove to the crowd that I come out stronger
Though
I think I might lie here a little longer
There's
my coach he's looking down
The
disappointment in his knitted brow
I
should've known
He
thinks again
I
never should have put him in
He
turns and loads the lemonade away
And
breathes in deep
The
sporting life
The
sporting life
The
sporting life
How
he loves...
There's
my father looking on
And
there's my girlfriend arm in arm
With
the captain of the other team
And
all of this is clear to me
They
condescend and fix on me a frown
How
they love the sporting life
The Raven
Edgar Allan Poe
1845
Once
upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over
many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly
there came a tapping,
As
of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis
some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the
bleak December;
And
each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had
sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for
the lost Lenore—
For
the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of
each purple curtain
Thrilled
me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my
heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at
my chamber door—
Some
late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating
then no longer,
“Sir,”
said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so
gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at
my chamber door,
That
I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I
stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting,
dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the
stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the
whispered word, “Lenore?”
This
I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul
within me burning,
Soon
again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something
at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and
this mystery explore—
Let
my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the wind and nothing more!”
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with
many a flirt and flutter,
In
there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a
minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched
above my chamber door—
Perched
upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then
this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By
the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though
thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly
grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell
me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear
discourse so plainly,
Though
its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living
human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above
his chamber door—
Bird
or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid
bust, spoke only
That
one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a
feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other
friends have flown before—
On
the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken by reply
so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,”
said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom
unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his
songs one burden bore—
Till
the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy
into smiling,
Straight
I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook
myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this
ominous bird of yore—
What
this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no
syllable expressing
To
the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head
at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the
lamp-light gloated o’er,
But
whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser,
perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung
by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent
thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy
memories of Lenore;
Quaff,
oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet
still, if bird or devil!—
Whether
Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert
land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me
truly, I implore—
Is
there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet
still, if bird or devil!
By
that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within
the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the
angels name Lenore—
Clasp
a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or
fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get
thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie
thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust
above my door!
Take
thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting, still is
sitting, still is sitting
On
the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a
demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming
throws his shadow on the floor;
And
my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!
Seasons Of Love
From the Musical RENT
1994
Five
hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Five
hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear
Five
hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How
do you measure, measure a year?
In
daylights, in sunsets
In
midnights, in cups of coffee
In
inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In
five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How
do you measure, a year in the life?
How
about love?
How
about love?
How
about love?
Measure
in love
Seasons
of love (love)
Seasons
of love (love)
Five
hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Five
hundred twenty five thousand journeys to plan
Five
hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How
do you measure the life of a woman or a man?
In
truths that she learned
Or
in times that he cried
In
bridges he burned or the way that she died
It's
time now, to sing out
Though
the story never ends
Let's
celebrate
Remember
a year in the life of friends
Remember
the love
(Oh,
you got to, you got to remember the love)
Remember
the love
(You
know that love is a gift from up above)
Remember
the love
(Share
love, give love, spread love)
Measure
in love
(Measure,
measure your life in love)
Seasons
of love
Seasons
of love
(Measure
your life, measure your life in love)
Alphabet Aerobics
Blackalicious
1999
(Now
it's time for our wrap up
Let's
give it everything we've got
Ready?
Begin)
Artificial
amateurs, aren't at all amazing
Analytically,
I assault, animate things
Broken
barriers bounded by the bomb beat
Buildings
are broken, basically I'm bombarding
Casually
create catastrophes, casualties
Cancelling
cats got their canopies collapsing
Detonate
a dime of dank daily doing dough
Demonstrations,
Don Dada on the down low
Eating
other editors with each and every energetic
Epileptic
episode, elevated etiquette
Furious
fat fabulous fantastic
Flurries
of funk felt feeding the fanatics
Gift
got great global goods gone glorious
Getting
godly in his game with the goriest
Hit
em high, hella height, historical
Hey
holocaust hints hear 'em holler at your homeboy
Imitators
idolize, I intimidate
In
a instant, I'll rise in a irate state
Juiced
on my jams like joy kids gonna join
Justly,
it's just me, writing my journals
Kindly
I'm kindling all kinds of ink on
Karate
kick type brits in my kingdom
Let
me live a long life, lyrically lessons is
Learned
lame louses just lose to my livery
My
mind makes marvelous moves, masses
Marvel
and move, many mock what I've mastered
No
we nap knowing I'm nice naturally
Knack,
never lack, make noise nationally
Operation,
opposition, off, not optional
Out
of sight, out of mind, wide beaming opticals
Perfected
poem, powerful punchlines
Pummelling
petty powder puffs in my prime
Quite
quaint quotes keep quiet it's Quantum
Quarrelers
ain't got a quarter of what we got uh
Really
raw raps, rising up rapidly
Riding
the rushing radioactivity
Super
scientifical sound search sought
Silencing
super fire saps that are soft
Tales
ten times talented, too tough
Take
that, challengers, get a tune up
Universal,
unique untouched
Unadulterated,
the raw uncut
Verb
vice lord victorious valid
Violate
vibes that are vain make em vanished
While
I'm all well would a wise wordsmith just
Weaving
up words weeded up, I'm a workshift
Xerox,
my X-ray-diation holes extra large
X-height
letters, and xylophone tones
Yellow
back, yak mouth, young ones yaws
Yesterday's
lawn yard sale I yawn
Zig
zag zombies, zoomin to the zenith
Zero
in zen thoughts, overzealous rhyme ZEA-LOTS!....
(good....can
you say it faster?)
The Country North of Belleville
Al Purdy
1973
Bush
land scrub land —
Cashel Township and Wollaston
Elvezir
McClure and Dungannon
green
lands of Weslemkoon Lake
where
a man might have some 5
opinion of what beauty
is
and none deny him
for miles —
Yet
this is the country of defeat 10
where
Sisyphus rolls a big stone
year
after year up the ancient hills
picnicking
glaciers have left strewn
with
centuries' rubble
days in the sun 15
when
realization seeps slow in the mid
without
grandeur or self deception in
noble struggle
of
being a fool —
A
country of quiescence and still distance 20
a
lean land
not fat
with
inches of black soil on
earth's round belly —
And
where the farms are it's 25
as if a man stuck
both
thumbs in the stony earth and pulled
it apart to make room
enough
between the trees
for
a wife 30
and maybe some cows and
room for some
of
the more easily kept illusions —
And
where the farms have gone back
to
forest 35
are only soft outlines and
shadowy differences —
Old
fences drift vaguely among the trees
a pile of moss-covered stones
gathered
for some ghost purpose 40
has
lost meaning under the meaningless sky
— they are like cities under water
and
the
undulating green waves of time are
laid on them —
This
is the country of our defeat and 45
yet
during
the fall plowing a man
might
stop and stand in a brown valley of the furrows
and shade his eyes to watch for the
same
red patch mixed with gold 50
that appears on the same
spot in the hills
year after year
and grow old
plowing
and plowing a ten acre field until 55
the
convolutions run parallel with his own brain —
And
this is a country where the young
leave quickly
unwilling
to know what their fathers know 60
or
think the words their mothers do not say —
Herschel
Monteagle and Faraday
lakeland
rockland and hill country
a
little adjacent to where the world is 65
a
little north of where the cities are and
sometime
we
may go back there
to the country of our
defeat
Wollaston
Elvezir Dungannon 70
and
Weslemkoon lake land
where
the high townships of Cashel
McClure and Marmora once were —
But
it's been a long time since
and
we must enquire the way 75
of strangers —
Ozymondias
Percy Byshe Shelley
1826
I
met a traveller from an antique land
Who
said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand
in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half
sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And
wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, 5
Tell
that its sculptor well those passions read
Which
yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The
hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And
on the pedestal these words appear:
‘My
name is Ozymandias, king of kings: 10
Look
on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing
beside remains. Round the decay
Of
that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The
lone and level sands stretch far away.”
Take A Minute
K'Naan
2009
How
did Mandela get the will to surpass the everyday
when
injustice had him caged and trapped in every way?
How
did Gandhi ever withstand the hunger-strikes at all?
Didn't
do it to gain power or money if I recall. It's the gift,
I
guess I'll pass it on, mother thinks it'll lift the stress of Babylon
my
mother knows, my mother she suffered blows
I
don't know how we survived such violent episodes
I
was so worried, it hurt to see you bleed,
but
as soons as you came out the hospital you gave me sweets yea,
they
tried to take you from me, but you still only gave 'em some prayers and
sympathy
Dear
Mama, you helped me write this
by
showing me to give is priceless
[chorus:]
And
any man who knows a thing
knows
he knows not a darn, darn thing at all
And
every time I felt the hurtin'
I
felt the givin' gettin' me up off the wall
I'm
just gonna take a minute to let it ride
I'm
just gonna take a minute and let it breathe
I'm
just gonna take a minute to let it ride
I'm
just gonna take a minute and let it breathe
All
I can say is, the worst is over now
we
can serve the hard times, divorce is over now
They
try to keep us out, but they doors is open now
Now
now Akon is gettin' awards and covers now
This
K'naan, and still reppin' the S
Comin'
out of Muqdisho and still draped in the mess
And
no matter how we strong homie
It
ain't easy comin' out of where we from homie
and
it's the reason why I can never play phony
Tell
'em the truth is what my dead homies told me, ooh yeah
I
take inspiration from the most heinous of situations
Creatin'
medication out my own tribulations
Dear
Africa, you helped me write this
by
showin' me to give is pricless
[chorus]
Nothin'
is perfect man, that's what the world is
all
I know is
I'm
enjoyin' today, you know
'cause
it ain't every day that you get to give
[chorus]
The Pasture
Robert Frost
1914
I'm
going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll
only stop to rake the leaves away
(And
wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I
sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.
I'm
going out to fetch the little calf 5
That's
standing by the mother. It's so young,
It
totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I
sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.
Stopping by the Woods on a
Snowy Evening
Robert Frost
1914
Whose
woods these are I think I know.
His
house is in the village though;
He
will not see me stopping here
To
watch his woods fill up with snow.
My
little horse must think it queer 5
To
stop without a farmhouse near
Between
the woods and frozen lake
The
darkest evening of the year.
He
gives his harness bells a shake
To
ask if there is some mistake. 10
The
only other sound’s the sweep
Of
easy wind and downy flake.
The
woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But
I have promises to keep,
And
miles to go before I sleep, 15
And
miles to go before I sleep.
Apple Jelly
Margaret Atwood
1971
No
sense in all this pickling,
peeling
& simmering
if
sheer food is all
you
want, you can buy it cheaper.
Why
then do we burn our hours 5
&
muscles on this stove,
cut
our thumbs to get these tiny
glass
pots of clear jelly?
Hoarded
in the winter: the sun
on
that noon, your awkward leap 10
down
from the tree,
licked
fingers, sweet pink juice,
is
what we keep
the
taste of the act,
the
taste of this day. 15
Mother to Son
Langston Hughes
1938
Well,
son, I'll tell you:
Life
for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's
had tacks in it,
And
splinters,
And
boards torn up, 5
And
places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But
all the time
I'se
been a-climbin' on,
And
reachin' landin's, 10
And
turnin' corners,
And
sometimes goin' in the dark
Where
there ain't been no light.
So,
boy, don't you turn back.
Don't
you set down on the steps.
15
'Cause
you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't
you fall now—
For
I'se still goin', honey,
I'se
still climbin',
And
life for me ain't been no crystal stair. 20
I Know Why the Caged Bird
Sings
Maya Angelou
1983
The
free bird leaps
on
the back of the wind
and
floats downstream
till
the current ends
and
dips his wings 5
in
the orange sun rays
and
dares to claim the sky.
But
a bird that stalks
down
his narrow cage
can
seldom see through 10
his
bars of rage
his
wings are clipped and
his
feet are tied
so
he opens his throat to sing.
The
caged bird sings 15
with
fearful trill
of
the things unknown
but
longed for still
and
his tune is heard
on
the distant hill 20
for
the caged bird
sings
of freedom
The
free bird thinks of another breeze
and
the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and
the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn 25
and
he names the sky his own.
But
a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his
shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his
wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so
he opens his throat to sing 30
The
caged bird sings
with
a fearful trill
of
things unknown
but
longed for still
and
his tune is heard
35
on
the distant hill
for
the caged bird
sings
of freedom.
The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost
1920
Two
roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And
sorry I could not travel both
And
be one traveler, long I stood
And
looked down one as far as I could
To
where it bent in the undergrowth; 5
Then
took the other, as just as fair,
And
having perhaps the better claim,
Because
it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though
as for that the passing there
Had
worn them really about the same, 10
And
both that morning equally lay
In
leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh,
I kept the first for another day!
Yet
knowing how way leads on to way,
I
doubted if I should ever come back. 15
I
shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere
ages and ages hence:
Two
roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I
took the one less traveled by,
And
that has made all the difference 20
Same Love
Macklamore
2012
When I was in the third grade I thought that I was gay,
'Cause I could draw, my uncle was, and I kept my room straight.
I told my mom, tears rushing down my face
She's like "Ben you've loved girls since before pre-k, trippin'."
Yeah, I guess she had a point, didn't she?
Bunch of stereotypes all in my head.
I remember doing the math like, "Yeah, I'm good at little league."
A preconceived idea of what it all meant
For those that liked the same sex
Had the characteristics
The right wing conservatives think it's a decision
And you can be cured with some treatment and religion
Man-made rewiring of a predisposition
Playing God, aw nah here we go
America the brave still fears what we don't know
And "God loves all his children" is somehow forgotten
But we paraphrase a book written thirty-five-hundred years ago
I don't know
And I can't change Even if I tried Even if I wanted to
And I can't change Even if I tried Even if I wanted to
My love My love My love
She keeps me warm She keeps me warm She keeps me warm She keeps me warm
If I was gay, I would think hip-hop hates me
Have you read the YouTube comments lately?
"Man, that's gay" gets dropped on the daily
We become so numb to what we're saying
A culture founded from oppression
Yet we don't have acceptance for 'em
Call each other f__ behind the keys of a message board
A word rooted in hate, yet our genre still ignores it
Gay is synonymous with the lesser
It's the same hate that's caused wars from religion
Gender to skin color, the complexion of your pigment
The same fight that led people to walk outs and sit ins
It's human rights for everybody, there is no difference!
Live on and be yourself
When I was at church they taught me something else
If you preach hate at the service those words aren't anointed
That holy water that you soak in has been poisoned
When everyone else is more comfortable remaining voiceless
Rather than fighting for humans that have had their rights stolen
I might not be the same, but that's not important
No freedom 'til we're equal, damn right I support it
(I don't know)
And I can't change Even if I tried Even if I wanted to
My love My love My love
She keeps me warm She keeps me warm She keeps me warm She keeps me warm
We press play, don't press pause
Progress, march on
With the veil over our eyes
We turn our back on the cause
'Til the day that my uncles can be united by law
When kids are walking 'round the hallway plagued by pain in their heart
A world so hateful some would rather die than be who they are
And a certificate on paper isn't gonna solve it all
But it's a damn good place to start
No law is gonna change us
We have to change us
Whatever God you believe in
We come from the same one
Strip away the fear
Underneath it's all the same love
About time that we raised up... sex
And I can't change Even if I tried Even if I wanted to
And I can't change Even if I tried Even if I wanted to
My love My love My love
She keeps me warm She keeps me warm She keeps me warm She keeps me warm
Love is patient Love is kind Love is patient Love is kind
(not crying on) Love is patient
(not crying on) Love is kind
(I'm not crying on) Love is patient
(not crying on) Love is kind
(I'm not crying on) Love is patient
(not crying on) Love is kind
(I'm not crying on) Love is patient
Love is kind
