Unsung

Poems roll off my tongue
With pen in hand
Like the ball in pinball
With the pop of a hand.
And sitting here between
A Stony Island queen
And the head of the basketball team
Makes the cream of the poetic crop
Never stop.

These people,
They give out invitations
To attend their presentations
Of them just being themselves:
Youths chucking their respect in the can
With every racial slur they spew to ‘the Man’.
Youngsters dragging hatchets
From killing their chaste shadows
That follow them out of habit.

And this;
This world in which we dwell
Might as well be a well of
Never-ending,
Ever-flowing hell.
Children dying by crime
And leaving us here to cry and
Mourn departures too soon
Just like the sun becoming moon.
But the moons in our hearts
Must give way to labors of art;
Art like the sun that won’t be outshone.
There’s acceptance between these forces
And the peace this union endorses
Is one of the sources
That will force-open doors
To new existence untold.

But accepting Bobby for Susie
And Susie for Lily
And Lily for Billy
And Billy for every other kiddie that’s living
Isn't the vision that our Creator imagines.
But accepting Michael for Michael,
And Sharon for Sharon
And Tina for Tina
And taking Jackie for Jackie
Is the only way to accessing
The goal to progressing
In a society where love is preached
But still most are digressing.

Teach common sense
Or little Joey dives headfirst into past-tense
Or you’ll take the defense
While your boy’s in the pen
Or even worse in a ditch.
Think twice
And then think again.

With pen in hand
This poem rolls off my tongue
As I speak to those
Who have not been hung.
And these words I've said
Are still left unsung.
So towards God’s heavens
Our children run.