United State of Emergency

Can someone please tell me how did our education system fall into the mess that it is in now? While doing research for a creative writing workshop I came across a set of staggering statistics that I knew would stick with me for a long time. 1) 48 million Americans are illiterate. 2) 50 million Americans are unable to read at a higher level that is expected of a fourth or fifth grader. 3) 52 million Americans are functional illiterate. Now considering that there are only approximately 300 million Americans in the United States, these figures should send shock waves through the core of our beings. We must be honest with ourselves and realize that we are raising a generation of kids that in ten years will not be able to read the simplest of articles in their local newspaper or the lunch specials in their local restaurants. This has me worried to the point of action and you so called poets/ spoken word artists are my focus. We have been giving the ability to manipulate words in such a way that those who have never had an interest in poetry/ spoken word are now watching HBO specials on spoken word, surfing YouTube for that one poet that speaks to the pain that they have hidden from the world for years. We have been given the ability to tell stories not only through now experiences, but through the experience of mind travel, pulling on the moments that were lived through our previous stints on earth, and while our children are failing the reading sections on standardized tests, we so called poets are at open mic's attempting to impress women with love poems, trying to sell a cd and get a date for the night. While we so called spoken word artist are at poetry slams trying to get tens across the board from judges who know nothing about spoken word our student athletes are being pushed through school because they have the skills to average ten rebounds and ten points a game. So I ask you so called poets, is getting a date for the night with a love poem more important than facilitating a creative writing workshop for middle school students? To you so called spoken word artist, is getting a perfect score in a slam more important than teaching future poets not only how to write poetry but to also read the works of other poets with understanding? I challenge all poets/ spoken word artists to use your God given talents not only to move a crowd but to change the lives of one person out of 48 million. Let’s help save a generation.

Hannah's Poem

I wrote this poem for a beautiful and special soul. Her name is Hannah, and she suffers from osteogenesis imperfecta (also referred to as brittle bone disease). When I saw her smile, it prompted me to write this poem. She has inspired me to always look at what's right with life and not what's wrong. This poem will be the first poem in my book "Dedications". Read and be inspired. Read and be grateful. Read and share.



I stare into the eyes of innocence,
Captivated by the image that stares back at me
From my computer screen.
Eyes have been seen
But not like these
These eyes speak
Courage
They speak life to a dead world
A world more concerned with
Reality shows,
Than with,
Tears that fall from a mother’s soul
And no one knows
Like a mother knows
The hurt she fells when
Her porcelain angel breaks
And along with trying to hold together the pieces
Or her wings,
She tries to hold together pieces of her own soul
A fragile structure placed with in
A beautiful smile
Covered by the hand of God
From the mean city streets
Of an angry city
She encourages a poet with a daughter
She takes him by the hand
Leads him down the corridors
Of tears
My compassion taps me on the shoulder
And inspires me
Forces me to notice that she
She is barley off the ground
But she makes me look up to her
Because her spirit dances
Behind the eyelids of God
Out looks from the poet soul changes.
By a simple dance
Though miles away
I hear her laugh.
The sound fills the air
Like a Billie Holiday dream
So enjoyable
So full of reason to live

Hannah,
Meaning grace.
Grace
Meaning effortless beauty
Beauty
Meaning a delightful quality associated
With such things
As harmony of form or color
And her color r
Is
Strength
So with my pen
And her smile,
Together
We strengthen the world

And I said Yes

The smell of rain forest febreeze sprayed over and old rent to own couch is the only hook
That she has to hang the
Memories of her childhood on
The only innocence she has ever known has been tampered with and
Mishandled
Played out like an old soap opera scandal
Fear grips her soul at night in the mist of her crying
And though she is not dead
Inside she’s still dieing
And I’m just trying
To restore her faith
Because it was like
All she had was faith
She needs every reason in the world to trust me
But she says it’s hard to trust someone who looks like me
So I asked her what did she mean
She sniffs, she breathes
And she said it’s hard because
Her dad looked just liked me
And she said he had eyes just like me
And she said it was hard to force herself to look past me
Because all she could see was he,
And maybe it’s just me,
but I knew that if given the chance
I could love her past whatever her eyes could see
And before she could go on
I said
Sweet heart pause and look through me and not at me
he is not like me
And then she says
Do you even understand me; I’m not looking for someone just like you
I’m just trying to find someone just to like me
Do you know what you are getting into?
I have been desensitized to love
By a man whom I was supposed to pattern my future husband after
but even after I said no
I was still forced to look at my reflection in his eyes
As he took me and treated me as if I was his own personal playground
Swinging on my innocence
Then sliding down the thin piece of fabric
that separated me from accelerated womanhood
Telling me, that all good girls did this in the neighborhood
And even if I could.
And even if I would
Could you love me past this pain?
Can you love me while I’m trying to explain?
The only thing from keeping me from going insane
Is standing in the rain
Because that’s God’s way of letting me know
That when I cry he cries
Can you battle though all of my mental scars
That refuse to heal
instead of getting frustrated
can you love me anyway
remind me because you are here
Everything will be ok
Will you be able to love me on those days
When I drift away and stare into space
Trying to find a place where pain doesn’t reside
Will you be able to look me deep into my eyes?
Because there I cant hide who I really am
Just A little girl who wants to be held
Because I never felt what it felt like to feel like a little girl when being held
To have no worries in the world
And as my world turns
Would you be able to navigate the sudden turns that
The road to my heart will lead you on
Would you understand that I need you
Even without me telling you,
Can you love me past my sleeping pills
And my antidepressants
In essence
can you love me past me and all of the emotional things that I bring
Because I bring a lot
Can you love me past the four shots that I hear every time I close my eyes because
He had to be stopped, did you hear me the first time
I bring a lot
Can you love me past the mental anguish I feel everytime I think of my older sister
Wising that I could touch her and just kiss her because
I miss her
She used death as a way of escape
Because when she tried to tell someone what went on
They just dismissed her and walked away

And some times I feel the same way
And I don’t know
At the right time
And at the right place
I might just try and use the same way of escape
Can you love God first and then love me next
If you can
I promise that I won’t get in the way
She swallowed, dropped her head
And turned away
I grabbed her face
And before she could take her second breath
And before I could take these two extensions of God
Called my arms to give her rest
I pulled her next to my chest
And whispered in her ear
YES!!!!