Why?

So, I've come to the realization that I'm graduating in May, wit a degree in Electronics Engineering tech, minor in Computer Science, something that has nothing to do wit poetry. I question my dedication to this for the simple fact that I know its not my career, and between my lil lady, ma major lady, and my career I don't know if anything else is that important right now...but I hear some song that is playing on a homeboy's playlist...It makes me think about this piece I wrote a while back....


Why?
There’s no more motivation,
There’s obviously no more inspiration,
There are no more positive influences,
And in the end all my thoughts are left in ruins.
So Why?
Why do I even write anymore?

Why should I record,
and allow immature brains to be bored.
Like I can afford
To be ignored
Because of ya brains bullshit overload, and no real shit can be stored.
Cause I’m not a DJ turn rapper, or a rapper turn singer,
You ain't gotta lean an rock, I’m satisfied if ya snap ya fingers.
See in today’s industry, these record executives could’t market me,
Cause I’m not gonna be what you want me to be.
Fuck you! I ain't gotta talk about guns, I shoot you these…(middle fingers up)
I’m not about to cut my soul and bleed with adrenaline,
And allow you make millions,
Then blame me for the negative influence on the children.
Which to me is stupid, cause I am a parent, and if a parent had a parent’s mentality
Then you would focus on teaching ya kids the differences in TV and reality,
But nowadays when today’s parents’ see their baby boy high as kite,
They blame one of these rappers that ain't never seen they baby boy in his life.
So when the baby girl learns to "pop lock and drop it" with style,
They start pointing fingers and don’t think about how the television is raising their child.
That’s just too many complications.
It’s a lose-lose situation.

There’s really no more motivation,
Obviously no more inspiration,
There are no more positive influences,
And in the end all my thoughts are left in ruins.
So Why?
Why do I even write anymore?

The Answer
See its one thing to consult with my the brethren,
And I’m no reverend,
But I wrap my fingers around this mic and the whole worlds in my possession.
And my intelligence isn’t better than
Most,
So I don’t boast,
In fact I welcome ya scholarly suggestions,
Even a genius ask his questions,
And my IQ
Isn’t as high as the magnum
Kum Laude graduate, but streets smarts are unattainable in the classroom.
From elementary school to college,
One can acquire more knowledge,
Than can be measured on the Escalade meter that measures mileage.
But my style is to display it,
See its one thing to read and interpret information in different ways, but how well can you say it.
The media says what they want you know, and show what they want you to see,
And probably hate people who put puzzle pieces together like me.
I know I’m not the only one that notice the piles and piles of shit
Degrading Michael Vick,
compared to the little bit
About the Jena Six.
See my soul plummets,
To the bottom of my stomach,
And all dumb whores and government,
Run quick,
I’m allergic to dumb shit.
So I get sick
And I vomit,
Naked truth in various phases,
Statistics say black people catching all the diseases, I hope intelligence is contagious.
Honestly I’m not a racist,
But I’m not an actor,
Acting like I don’t know the factors,
Personally I’d listen to me before I’d listen to the corporate cracker.
Because I know our tactics,
Aren’t compatible with the normal corporate Americas,
But obviously, it’s not enough people telling us.
Or helping us,
I know God isn’t a black racist
But I take this
Visual picture and know that He made this for me.
Then I recognize this God-given talent, and I can see why he gave it to me.
Fuck The Money!!!
Fuck The Fame!!!
Pussy Come a Dime A Dozen!!!
Some Times This Shit Just Needs To Be Heard!!!!
…..That’s why I continue to write…..