Featured Poem:
My mothers voice
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Featured Poem:
My mothers voice
Lord child, I done told you a million times
them words youse foolin’ around with don’t make no sense.
Them words is the devil’s work,
you better leave ’em alone you hear?
Here you sit from morning to night,
writin’ down what you think is right.
Whoever told you you had the right to decide bad and good?
It ain’t worth the time of day,
unless it’s going to bring you some silver.
And I don’t see how it’s possible,
for anybody to be payin’ you for somethin’
you done scribbled down like chicken scratch.
And don’t go tellin’ me nothin’ about
what or how much money white people make.
You ain’t white.
And I don’t want to hear nothin’ ’bout no fame.
Attention ain’t no good when you’re dead.
It don’t make no sense.
Furthermore, it don’t make no never-mind,
how much you scream,
or how long and wooly you let your hair grow,
or how many baths you refuse to take.
If you ain’t got no money,
you ain’t got nothin’ to say.
And I didn’t have to go to no fool college to learn that.
I have been walkin’ through this world and learnin’
since I knowed exactly who I was.
So if I tell you I hand dipped snuff, look for the box.
Boy, where is ya goin’? I’m talkin’ to you.
You better come back here and listen.
Lord, Lord, these children are gonna be the death of us all.
Not that we ain’t givin’ ’em plenty of kindlin’ wood.
Lord child, I done told you a million times
them words youse foolin’ around with don’t make no sense.
Them words is the devil’s work,
you better leave ’em alone you hear?
Here you sit from morning to night,
writin’ down what you think is right.
Whoever told you you had the right to decide bad and good?
It ain’t worth the time of day,
unless it’s going to bring you some silver.
And I don’t see how it’s possible,
for anybody to be payin’ you for somethin’
you done scribbled down like chicken scratch.
And don’t go tellin’ me nothin’ about
what or how much money white people make.
You ain’t white.
And I don’t want to hear nothin’ ’bout no fame.
Attention ain’t no good when you’re dead.
It don’t make no sense.
Furthermore, it don’t make no never-mind,
how much you scream,
or how long and wooly you let your hair grow,
or how many baths you refuse to take.
If you ain’t got no money,
you ain’t got nothin’ to say.
And I didn’t have to go to no fool college to learn that.
I have been walkin’ through this world and learnin’
since I knowed exactly who I was.
So if I tell you I hand dipped snuff, look for the box.
Boy, where is ya goin’? I’m talkin’ to you.
You better come back here and listen.
Lord, Lord, these children are gonna be the death of us all.
Not that we ain’t givin’ ’em plenty of kindlin’ wood.
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