Will's Last Testament

Will's Last Testament

Grasshopper/No this aint Mr. Miyagi and Daniel-son/this is a grandfather’s nickname for his grandson/it only bothered me during my teenage years/now I laugh when I talk about it wit my folks over a few beers/and my pointy ears, hears a lot of things being spit at my character/whether its out of love or whatever/few people you know match my caliber/yeah that was some arrogant-ness/that’s another quality to include with the rest of this mess/the ingredients include/two cups of selfishness/ a dash of crude/a teaspoon of rebellion and a quart of rude/5lbs of stubbornness/4 cups of ungrateful/a tablespoon of insecurity/but not one ounce of hateful/a gallon of loyalty/a peasants share of royalty/a few sprinkles of sensitivity/and wavelengths of annoyance-y/a couple pints of nonchalant/and shakes of naïve/instead of questioning those close to me, I choose just to believe/a splash of heartache/a puddle of passivity/a creek load of mean mugs due to inactivity/bad posture, attitude/occasional family feud/clique clashing/domestic ridicule/green eye allergies/honey-less bumble bees/canine contusions/bad news coming in threes/physically fragile/mentally shook/get second-degree burns when I pick up “The Good Book”/impatiently patient/stagnant and stuck/deer in the headlights of an on-coming truck/full of cuss words/anger makes me brave/I often wonder what phrase would be on put my grave/proud uncle/blessed father/not really a boyfriend/only tv relationships are odder/love my son’s mom/I want no other/and though he going thru some thangs/you know who is still my brother/I no longer pacify grown folks/and I expect the same/if you seek handouts from me after years being apart/please forget my name/I gotta lot of work to do on myself/and I recognize my flaws/but I’m not done by a long shot/so, please hold your applause/and huhs, ahhs, what the, and aw man’s/this is an E true Hollywood story/dedicated to all my fans/my life aint all bad/just not as good as I wish/the recipe for Willie P should be one hell of a dish/my pops wasn’t always terrible but he was never like a father/more like a cool ass uncle to look up to when your real pops didn’t bother/that’s the real truth/no father son moments sitting on the porch/no legacy to look up to/no passing of the torch/so I had to develop my own sense of fatherhood, using available means/dysfunctional pops like Al Bundy were like kings on my tv screen /being a father to my lil’ brother was strange but at the time necessary/discipline instead of heart to hearts at the time seemed necessary/now I’m struggling to connect with my son like dr. huxtable and theo/cuz mr. meaner is the only type of father that he know/don’t wanna be considered a pushover by old schools, with outdated parenting tools/so I often overreact when he breaks the simplest of rules/no physical abuse/just my heavy voice is enough/to break down my mini-me while trying to teach to him to be tough/he’s very similar to me when I was growing up/played by myself often/never said too much/he don’t do the stanky leg or say “bruh” after every other word/and most of that stupid shit he has never seen nor heard/that’s by design/cuz I saw it growing up/and still do to this day/so what if I offended you/let the chips fall where they may/you can’t have conversations with today’s youth, cuz you can’t understand what they say/fuck dumbing down to their level/who’s the adult and who’s the child/would it bother you, if while I typed this/I had a constant smile/I’m so unstable/but I hide it well/this 5’5” frame is just a little cell/imprisoning the bad thoughts and feelings that could shatter fragile frames/so I play internal games with the fragile names/but my biggest fear is being lonely/so please consider this tirade as done for entertainment purposes only.

For the Little People

For The Little People

Hands concrete ashy, cold in her eyes,
Soak and wet due to acid rain from polluted gray skies,
Her pacifier lies on the cracked sidewalk, next to a hypodermic needle,
Her cries for her mother who is six steps ahead are feeble,
And go untendered; cuz having a child at the age of 14 rendered her mother useless,
At least that’s the message her environment conveys, and in the midst of her family feud,
That’s always what the survey says,
Little Lisa was born 3 years ago this very day,
While in the womb, at night Lisa’s mother would pray that a miscarriage would take her mistake away,
Back to present day and the story is pretty much the same,
Except Little Lisa’s mother stopped praying for a death that never came,
So she turned to neglect and verbal abuse,
Cursing her stretch marks and having Little Lisa is her excuse,
What’s the use, she ponders on the daily,
Getting her throat stroked to feed her habit and ego,
Besides, that way she can’t have another baby,
Little Lisa’s little life is crazy and so undeserving,
Fighting off ants and roaches while mommy is in the kitchen serving,
The landlord for last month’s rent, for a 3 bedroom apartment,
On the Upper East Side of suburbia, known for its functioning drug addicts, sex offenders, and axe murderers,
Little Lisa was conceived at a pill party so her father ranges from a high school junior to college sophomore,
Maybe the checkout boy at the corner store or the dude that’s always wearing his letterman jacket next door,
Little Lisa shares a home with her mom and grandparents who are hooked on meth,
So within such a hostile environment, Little Lisa’s every breath moves her closer to an early death,
Now Little Lisa has KKK roots and trailer park completion,
But yet I feel we have a connection,
See my childhood was a little shitty, growing up in the inner city,
So if no one else gives a damn, I’ll show Little Lisa some pity,
And pray her plight takes a turn for the better,
And for all kids growing up in hell, for you I write this letter.