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Father's American Dream
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Father's American Dream

SĂ„ngare:  Porsha Olayiwola
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My father always wanted me to achieve the American Dream.
And so naturally, my greatest fear was becoming another statistic.
That's why when people ask me about my father, a little part of me goes ballistic,
See let me be realistic, only thirty-seven percent of black kids live with both their father and mother,
and all my life I only had one
so I refuse to be another high school dropout,
success copout,
high on drugs, in love with a thug, or a teen mother.

But imagine waking up one day and your daddy was gone,
like he didn't come home,
you couldn't reach him on the phone,
and your mother cried tears 'cause she didn't want to raise y'all alone.
And they say sticks and stones can break your bones,
but let me tell you, growing up never knowing your father
can kill your soul,
until you understand my pain, let me explain
that my father was not just another fucking statistic.

He didn't get killed by no gun.
He didn't sell drugs or commit no crime,
he wasn't locked up doing time behind bars in jail,
he didn't say to hell with this family and walk out on my mother.
hell, he bought us the house we lived in
so I knew that he loved her.

He wasn't on no domestic violence type shit.
he wasn't on no cheat and remain silent type shit,
no, my father was an immigrant.
So he got reported on that shit,
was kicked out of this country on that deported type shit,
so imagine my little brother, three and a half,
who didn't have a clue but was afraid to go to bed,
because he thought his mother would be gone too.
Can you imagine being a boy without a father in the ghetto?
Strings cut like Pinnochio without Geppetto,
the bad influences cling like the water and the metal
and the bills picked up so we fell below the poverty line.

The bills picked up so my mother fell behind.
The bills picked up so my mother picked up two jobs and she's been working them ever since.
She was convinced that we would make it,
then would receive long-distance calls and refuse to take it
'cause her heart was breaking
my daddy got shipped back to Nigeria.

So my heart still aches for the green-white-green,
fuck your red white and blue, mocked by ?,
killa, we are the only ?,
I knew I grew up without a daddy because my daddy was an immigrant.
Reason number fifty-four why I hate the government,
fuck your land of the brave and your home of the free,
you motherfuckers took my daddy from me.

And yeah, we still talk, like, once a week,
and I listen as he holds back tears,
apologizing for the decades he has missed.
Tells me how he wished he could have kiss me good night.
Tells me how he begged and pleaded with them to let him stay,
but how he's proud anyway,
because I graduated a couple of Mays ago.

So fuck your statistics,
I'm optimistic,
I pick up the pieces of a broken dream,
'cause it seemed to demean my father's worth.
Kicked my daddy out of this country, they treated my father like dirt,
but listen to my words, 'cause this is what it's worth.

Fuck the American Dream,
'cause I'm fulfilling his.

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HĂ€mta formater:AC3, APE, ALAC, DTS, AIFF
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9.6/10 (röster: 2684)
Tags: Non music  Poetry slam 
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NOVEMBER 17

Se Àven

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