HY-PHEN: Be the Connection

Where my poetry lives. All original, all transparent, all true. Thought-provocation is its purpose, provoking you to think.

[hy-phen-poetry]

If I Was In Your Shoes...

***DISCLAIMER: This poem was not written with any racial malice or controversial intent. If you find offense I am truly sorry, but when you understand the reality around you it makes sense. The characters portrayed in this spoken word are not real but their emotions and thoughts are universal. Enjoy!***

If I was in a preppy white girl’s shoes…

Alright, got my eyeliner, mascara, red matte lipstick, glitter Germ-X.

Ok, Julie, its show biz. Puff up those blonde locks, make sure it gives the boys a shock.

Play hard-to-get and stay away from Liz, that geek. What do we say about geeks, huh?

Four-eyed losers! There you go!

Now, where’s that white girl voice?

So, like, um, you know, totally, whatever, totes! Too-da-loo!

High heels or flats, I hate wearing tennis shoes.

I’m a little short for Justin, the high heels will do.

Slip in and Wedge up, there you go, whoa-whoa! Ok, step forw—Oof!

Gosh, this is useless, Justin doesn’t even say hi

Wear the flats, Julie, it’s not like you’ll be waving hi.

If I was in a black girl’s shoes…

Aye! Twist them hips, girl! Show’em whatcha got!

Now, should I wear my croptop or my tight tanktop?

That tank’s gonna show my ribs and imma little too busty for that.

Just wear the croptop, it’s not that revealing, it’s just a belly button, everybody got one.

Jeans, shorts, joggers, Maxi?

White with orange, black gladiator sandals.

My peachy orange Louie Vuitton purse will go well with the skirt.

Flawless! Let me snapchat this! Girl, you too pretty!

To who? Me? Lookin’ like Marilyn Monroe, sprayed painted brown and updated

I’m too busty, I’m cuffin’ with this skirt.

LaQuan call me heavenly, be he treat me like dirt.

Where am I to go? Who do I turn to?

All I hear is tuck it in, make it bounce, and hit the store.

But when I walk in, I have to hit the door,

Cause all they see is…my physique, not my…feelings.

If I was in a preacher’s kid’s shoes…

Been baptized since I was seven

In the choir since eleven

Don’t know how many times I’ve said the word “reverend”

Dad’s a pastor

Mom’s first lady

My life has always had a perfection expectation

Like the movies, but I’m not even acting

You’re gonna do great things in life

Like what? Be the next president?

I’m only in gifted and talented, Dad

And that was only by the grace of God, and your reverent reference

Why does everybody just keep giving me things?

Can I work for it?

Stop picking me out of the sea of raised hands

It’s not like no one knows I’m smart, everyone expects that I am.

But, hey, “My grace is sufficient.”

I don’t even understand what that means

And, can you just give it to someone else, please

I don’t want this high seat

The bullies still pick on me

Cause being the preacher’s kid, I’m supposed to turn the other cheek.

If I was in a questioning boy’s shoes…

Love’s a mountain, higher than Everest, deeper than the Pacific, longer than the Universe.

Girls never seemed appealing to me.

When I see one all I see is beauty.

Not much has changed since 9 years old except, my feelings are jumbled.

Was I that attractive? Was I that suitable?

To be told he loved me but was completely capable of hurting me…like that.

Now what I see is fashionable girls and…cute guys?

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty straight.

I’ve had girlfriends and all, but something has changed!

I’ve been this way my whole life,

My voice, my hands, the way I swish my legs, those were all my natural personality.

My compassion, my optimism, my lovability when I was unloving.

Those haven’t changed, what is it?

My love…yes, that’s it!

I can’t even see,

What’s so wrong with…me.

I’m blinded by status quo,

Kicked over by society blows,

Hungover, my drunken moans of confusion!

Why is my heart so heavy?

My soul wants something that it’s been craving for so long…

But what is it?

If I was in your shoes, what do you think I would do, say, think, believe?

If I was in your shoes, who would I be?

[hy-phen-poetry]

Sorry, I haven't posted a poem in a while. Here is a spoken word I wrote my freshman years. If I Was in Your Shoes by HY-PHEN aka me. Original Poem. For more @hy-phen9102 @hy-phen-poetry

[hy-phen-poetry]

Caught Missing You

Wake up, you're up

Brushing your teeth, fixing the sheets

Downstairs, upstairs

Breakfast made, not running late

When I say your suit looks nice,

I really want you to take it off.

When I get close and fix your tie,

You're already far enough.

I'll be caught missing you.

I pick up your lunch at noon,

Bring it to work for you.

Sit in my car until two,

Scrolling through pictures of you.

I'll be caught missing you.

Red handed, light headed,

Wide awake until you get in bed,

with you with me,

with you, no worries.

Losing my sanity,

You're the better part of me,

I'm hard to deal with,

You make it easy.

Watch your every move

You know who loves who

Cause I'll be caught missing you

[hy-phen-poetry]

The Trap (PSA)

She makes sure everything tucks in,

So that she check out,

And gets checked out by strangers,

to open doors she can walk through.

His family isn't the blood type,

His friends are his blood ride or dies,

Ride or die is the choice he has to make,

When he opens a door he shouldn't've walked through.

She cries,

He dies,

We tried,

They lied.

The trap laid,

right in our face,

just in the way,

But we don't want to pay attention.

They cross the border,

The promise of opportunity for more,

Opportunity for more hate in a worse way,

In the home of the free and the land of the brave,

It would've been better to just stay from where they came.

Her hair falls to the ground,

Self-esteem is way below under,

Six-feet under cause what could have helped her,

Wasn't given to her because it's abuse to test drugs on the little ones,

But not when you just hand them out at the corner and liquor stores.

They're confined,

She gets no life,

We tried,

They lied.

The trap we face,

The battle we wage,

The road we pave,

Has to be open to everyone.

The trap of hypocrisy,

It's a disease.

A contagious one,

The symptoms are all around,

Just pay attention, please.

[hy-phen-poetry]

Bus Stop

I fell in love at a bus stop I fell in love and came out on top I fell for him and it was my fault I fell in love at a bus stop Across the rows I crossed alone More than hope Barely paved a road We sat together, you and me Laughed in winter, hugged in spring Leaned on my shoulder, the distance closing Over by summer, summer lovin' never knowing I fell in love at a bus stop I fell in love and came out on top I fell for him and it was my fault I fell in love at a bus stop I was numb when I saw her Felt nothing when she touched you Died when you kissed her This was the last time I missed you Pushed aside In the way I'll make sure you recognize That you're in my wake I fell in love at a bus stop I fell in love and came out on top I fell for him and it was my fault I fell in love at a bus stop

[hy-phen9102-blog]

You know when life is a nightmare

You can’t do a thing about it, so all you do is stare…

[hy-phen-poetry]

Hearsay

Whisper here, Whisper there, I heard you whisper in his ear, Told him the gossiper’s word, With the forbidden glare. The hallway, a lounge, The lockers, full of the smoky words of cold hounds. The epidemic, the disease, The story gaining heat, Now 100 degrees, Burning down trees, With little to retrieve. The lunch room, a battlefield, Chicken torpedoes and Tater-tot missiles, Bad peaches, Head itches, Waterfall of mislead zeal. This is Hearsay, He say, she say, What do you say? Hearsay. Whisper here, Whisper there, All you say is what you hear, If it’s true, it’ll stay that way If it’s a lie, it’s all Hearsay.