My Daddy wanted me
out
of that
school
Wanted me OUT
Said the other
boys
Stole
my
lunch
money
Wanted me OUT
told my teachers I
was
Bullied
Wanted me OUT
wanted me to go
to
some NICER school
in
another direction
I
didn’t know
Wanted me out
told me if I
wanted to play
With
THAT kind
I could
move into the Projects
and be like they be.
My Daddy wanted me out
of that place
told them my
grades
suffered
told them the
other boys
stole
my
Lunch
money.
Wanted me OUT.
I would walk there sometimes
Three miles
If
the bus was
Running
LATE
Or
the drivers were on strike.
My Daddy wanted me out
when Woolworth’s
got picketed
after
I brought my friend home
after school
Wanted me to go to that
NICER
school
that
White
school
in the other direction
in the other direction
from where we
lived
And
which I didn’t know
My Daddy wanted me out
Said I was bullied
Said the other
boys
stole
my
Lunch
money
Said I didn’t understand
What it was like
To get beat up by
a
Colored
He was right about
that
For the welts and belt bruises
On my back
On my legs
On my arms
were put there by him
they established
Ownership.
Ya see,
I was my Daddy’s
Little white boy slave
I
suppose.
My daddy didn’t want them
To connect that
Wanted me out of that BLACK school
Said I didn’t understand
And if I wanted to
Play with those
kind
I
could
live
in the Projects
Said the other boys
Stole my lunch
money
But I didn’t want to go.
I was safe there.
My Daddy wanted me
OUT
of
that school
Said I didn’t understand
Yet never saw
That I was safe
There.
from some of those same beatings
that I saw had
happened
to my school mates
Ancestors
Foul, cruel
beatings rendered
All the more real
when
Meted
out by your owner.
When delivered
without
Questions
The
results borne
Out
In
Public
A mark of pride
For
not reacting
Made
me stronger
You see,
I never was just some
Ordinary
Two-toned White
boy
I was
Property
Poor white trash.
I never got that money stolen
Since
I never had enough
lunch money
To
steal
Those beatings didn’t come
From little black
boys
They were my
Daddy’s
He OWNED me
How was that any different from my friends?
Only once
I almost cried
When talking to
Mrs. James
My home room
teacher
She and I
We never talked
about
Daddy
wantin’
To take me out of
School
She only said
I was safe there
At least eight
hours
Out of the day.
NOTE: The poem is a gut reaction to the Ferguson, MO murder of an unarmed youth named Michael Brown by police officer Darrin Wilson. (c) 2014 / Will Brady
No comments:
Post a Comment