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Monday, November 29, 2010

Rap or Spit Poem of the Week: 4 a.m. by Paradyme




4 a.m.

“You got to be strong”
So sick of these words being constantly drilled into my mind
As if needing a shoulder to cry
Makes me inferior as a woman
Makes me less of royalty
I should be more soldier
A robot


How dare you tell me when
I have held up my whole world high
On my shoulders
That never sag or buckle under pressure
That when I need one
 That I’m not being independent
That I should suck it in

My cries for help
are never heard
because the deafening screams never leave my brain
I move with diligent progression everyday
Toward New
Toward unattainable
Toward incredible

But then you are the same people that call me when your man don’t act right
When you can’t pay your bills
And I’m wrong for telling you to get the hell up off my phone
That your problems are cyclical and I have my own

A strong woman with no warm shoulder to call home
During late nights
When my mind is battered and bruised
From yelling truth to deaf ears
From kissing away a childs tears
A child that just wants to hold their fathers hand
And to hear that she is loved
Because no matter how many  time I say it
She doesn’t believe it because his actions speak louder than my words
She has gone DEAF from the sound of the phone call that never comes
Or doorbell that doesn’t ring

I go to sleep weary with a mind that screams relentlessly
Scorching memories of every image of self defeat that I have seen that day
Of every woman and man that I begged not to give up
Tried to get them to see what I see
But they are blind to the skies
Beautiful colors they can’t see
It’s like taking a VCR and trying to hook it to HD

Images chopped and screwed replay in my mind of  every senseless death that I have  had to try to explain to my children

That Bobby Tillman was real just like them
That he had a mother just like they do
Wanted to go to college just like them
But it was just his path
And with no one there to protect him
He was murdered by the demons,
the strangers I warned them about

I spend my day explaining to them that they can trust no one
And I keep them so close to me that they can barely breathe
Because if I don’t
I can barely breathe

This is that poem
That I call friend
Because at 4 am
My papers has ears
It listened to my fears
And tells me it’s gonna be ok

Just write your fears here
Scream God’s name here
Ask for strength here
But leave it here

And I do

At 4 am

Written by Amanda "Paradyme" Stockhma

You can find her here: 

at

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