You Don't Remember Me

Yeah, we went to high school together

You were in my math class,

and my spanish class,

we were in band together,

choir? dance?

...we were doubles partners in Tennis.

But you still don't remember me.

The disgusting cafeteria food,

Mr. Thompson's long lectures on international trade policies

The smell of the hallway by the boy's locker room...

Things you remember about high school

But you don't remember me.

You passed me in the hall

Every single day

I was the one you had to step around

When I was in your way.

One time, freshman year, I let you copy my homework in Spanish

Because, I knew what it was like to forget to do the assignment.

But you still don't remember me.

But I remember you

And I will for the rest of my life

I remember the snickers you and your friends gave me

Some days when I passed by.

I remember the taunting

When I had to use a Hello Kitty backpack.

Because the one I saved my money up for

Got ruined in a car wreck.

Your words and your laughter

Would rotate through my gut

Like laundry in the dryer

On a cycle that wouldn't stop.

It was late March, Sophomore year

When I found refuge in a bathroom stall

The bile that was created

From the way that I was treated

Finally, found, it's way out.

A physical release, of the mental hold you had on me.

My sacrifice to the high school life

You turned into a Hell.

But you don't remember me.

On that battle ground of the high school grounds

You brought weapons;

Perfect highlights, flawless skin,

A guy on your arm who belonged in Abercrombie and Fitch.

Manicured hands, a glowing tan

...did I mention he was a college man?

But I wasn't your only victim

There were days when I got lucky

Those days when you completely ignored my existence

Those were the days I looked forward to.

But when I caught the eye, of your daily catch

We'd share a glance as silent and quick as the time it took you to forget about us.

But I want to thank you.

Because of what you put me through

I developed great strength.

You kicked me when I was already down,

So I'm who I am today.

No longer hiding in that bathroom stall

I shout from rooftops, I speak to you all.

From the depths of my lungs I have harnessed a weapon so powerful

Sometimes it scares me.

I've made fear into phrases

And anger into rhymes.

Conviction in my voice

With passion in my lines.

But you see, our main difference,

When you start comparing,

Is that I will never use my weapon for hurting.

In your hand is the hand of your fiance

In my hand's a mic.

You have your picture perfect high school memories

Me, I have the rest of my life.

You see, I'm going places

In no time, I'll make you see.

So for future reference,

You might want to remember me.

The Optimistic Insomniac.

Some people like to lay in bed and think,

Well I prefer to sleep.

Because laying there pondering the wonders of my world that late, to me, just seems too deep.

And on those nights when I can't fall asleep

Questions arise in my head that I find strange and unfamiliar. Like:

If you're driving down the highway and you cut someone off, and he doesn't have a thumb, is he still giving you the middle finger?

But see, these questions don't come because of the influence of any drug or substance,

But because I never bothered to build up walls to contain my imagination.

See, my imagination is my escape when I turn on the TV to a News that should be rated R.

R for redundant, reprobated, risky and repugnant.

For those radical realists who reach for resistance from recreant ringleaders who rarely get revealed for what they really represent.

In this world I've seen people get attacked.

Not because of what they believe in

But because of what others don't.

I'm watching this world fall apart

Not because of what people are doing

But because of what people won't.

But we're told:

"Stay in school," "Do your best,"

"Study hard," "Ace the test,"

"The real world is hard."

Well no f***ing kidding

Because nothing I learned in this classroom,

Will I be repeating.

You see, as a person,

I'm more than the sum of my broken hearts.

And I'm not going to compromise to hypothesize the changes that might take place,

Because, I don't know about you, but I'm tired of running in this fixed human race.

I have a better Idea,

How 'bout a fun run?

Where the prize is success

And everyone gets one.

Or how about a game of Scrabble for those with smarts

Or maybe pictionary for those with a knack for the arts?

In my utopia,

Everyone wins.

Hearts are invincible

And there is no sin.

The dreams are many

And the nightmares are few

Love is abound

Hate is subdued.

I build these ideas up

Only to be dissapointed.

You can imagine the insomnia

that seems to follow

As my head continues to spin.

While I try to come up with a plan

To create a world without

heartache, nightmares, or sin.

So while you stay up pondering over

Unpaid bills, that cute guy at work, or why you haven't heard the baby make a peep...

I believe now, you'll understand me when I say;

"I would rather sleep."

You Can't Always Get What You Want...

Have you ever screamed secrets at the moon?

You know those ones that even God pretends not to hear

Those secrets that sound like timeless poems envolcalized not because of any illiteration or format but simply because they are so damn honest? ..Neither have I.

But sometimes, sometimes, I drink my coffee as if its saving lives. You know those black-as-Malcom-Xs-Pupils pot-of-pure-potential nights? I let it crash down my throat like an oil spill riding the tide. And for a spilt fleeting Hudinni second I feel alive.

Because my friends, this world can feel so big and I can feel so small forget saving this earthly monster, I don't feel like getting out of bed at all. But some can't get out of bed at all. Some lay lifeless before they can crawl. I have dreams of atheists falling to bloody knees Please, I'll pray to you all

But you can't always get what you want....

Why do I know this world is so big? Because the term World Peace sounds childish. Because the word love, amore, amor'e is lost in sex and city star dust. I love, I love you, I love you. Why is that so hard to say? It's so much easier to say I hate you, I hate life, I hate me, I hate that I hate. I hate that it takes a six pack or mic to really get behind what I say. And thats the reason the only time I say what I mean is when I'm drunk or on stage. Sometimes a combination of the two. ...And that can get really realistic.

But you can't always get what you want....

You see we're humans. And I'm not talking about that propaganda slipped into our blood at birth that says that we naturally urge for sex and flesh and that its our instinct to hurt. Sorry, but that seems like a lid screwed on too tightly. 6 Billion humans agreeing what Human Nature is doesn't begin to explain what it could be. When I say human I mean creator. When I say creator I mean you. And this isn't a pep talk, I'm simply giving back what they took from you in school.

But you can't always get what you want....

Isn't it weird that those really big thoughts don't hit you when you're doing small tasks? Like day dreaming about a child being slaughtered in Sudan doesn't hit you while you're cutting the grass. But if it does it only stays for the length of a commercial. And then it's back to the main program starring us where we seek friends like Ross and Rachel.

But these things are happening. Trust me. This is it, this is reality. But so is beauty blooming inhale, exhale, balancing.

But you can't always get...

Even if you expect on getting it. I read up on someone who was tired of waiting, jumped right into creation and called it Genesis.

America the Beautiful Parody

O beautiful for spacious skies

Polluted beyond repair.

For purple mountain majesties

There are Wal*Marts everywhere.

America, America

We spread our trash on thee

And crown they good with brotherhood

Wherever the goods are free.

O beautiful for pilgrim feet

Who marched indians to their death

A thoroughfare of freedom beat.

Well, what good beats are left.

America, America,

Wall Street mend all of thine scars.

Confirm thy soul in self-control

From interns and pop stars

O beautiful for patriot dream
Of an umbrella drink on a beach somewhere
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Under years of wear and tear.
America, America
We'll "Go Green" to preserve thee.
With oil drills and oil spills
From sea to shining sea.