This is a one line poem. This Poem was conceived by a thought impregnated by Sha’condria . . . This Poem demanded itself into being . . . existed, and then . . . insisted on being unlike any other This Poem poem . . .
This Poem is not to bust shots or drip lust or lead . . . Even though Its Author is, This Poem is not compelled to be hip-hop or like it must Dred . . . Just like its Author, This Poem is All-Red . . . Yet This Poem listens intently & seriously considers everything this crip poem just said . . .
This Poem recognizes that the true enemy doesn’t live in rust red . . .brick, dilapidated tenement houses . . . but in the white marble colonnaded ones . . . that, with discrete precision, frames children for failure, imprisons, fathers in freeze frames, and this division, forces mothers to cross-dress (parentally speaking), in the absence of spouses . . .
This Poem rhymes, but it doesn’t have to . . . This Poem has a choice . . .
. . . like the option to sit in the front of the bus simply to pay tribute to Its Mothers’ Mandated Manners, yes, the honor of relinquishing this convenient perch to an Elder Manuscript . . . Or, a really pretty Poem . . .
This Poem has the option to sit in the back, for observational purposes, daydreaming on that really pretty poem until those thoughts coalesce and conceive to pro-create little sticky pad poems . . . that get raised into full white sheets . . . Without the white sheet mentality . . . Or the Black Hoodie fatality rate . . .
This Poem gives good advice . . . even though, it might make the poem It is advertising even better than Itself . . . This Poem gives away performance tips, techniques & tricks for when you get stuck, because. . . well, who wants to win because the other poem got stuck?
This Poem wants to win the crown fair and diamond-esque . . . even if it’s only by point-fucking-one . . . It wants to stand tall, pushing out its chest, for a full 31 seconds of glory, and THEN . . . Be sincerely humble about it, for the rest of the entire year . . .
This Poem overstands, that everything does not revolve around This Poem . . . and when It does display that alarmingly human trait . . . It gets over it. It overcomes its insatiable desire to always be center stage, thereby allowing someone else the spotlight for a minute . . . or three . . .
This Poem wishes slams could be judged & won based solely on crowd response, but only if they are all complete, absolute strangers to everyone here, and . . . preferably in tears . . .
This Poem lobbies for an emotional BS detector on stage, so when This Poem chokes up (as it invariably will), when ink runs freely from the three eyes adorning the right side of Its face, all would realize that it is not affectation . . .
This Poem knows, intimately, why Its Author can never complete, from start to finish, the piece entitled, “Why I Write” . . . not even in practice . . . or in a workshop . . . or in the shower . . . This Poem wants the shower session all to Itself . . .
This poem rails . . . but now opts to offer solutions—or at least provoke and suggest thoughts of one—right alongside the issue being railed at . . . Challenging? Yes . . . But This Poem feels up to it . . .
This poem is part of Exchange-for-Change . . . and that means something . . . It means This Poem can be exactly how It is . . . and that’s okay . . . But It better not stay that way . . . I mean, It can be essentially the same poem, but the consciousness and/or compassion of the writing must continue to flow . . . And it is virtually impossible for This Poem to cause Its Author to grow as a Writer, without growing as a Person . . .
This is a one line poem, with a really long footnote justifying why . . .