This is a slam poem I wrote in Eighth Grade, this was my first ever poem. I hope you enjoy.


I’m going to tell you a story

So you better listen

And if you don’t

You never know what you’re missing

You see we live in a culture where the shoes on your feet

are more important than the way you treat, girls

And the watch on your wrist

Is more important than the girls you kissed

Let me tell you about my friend

I’ma be honest his whole family is dead

Now he’s in a foster home in Longmont

It’s a long walk

To the bus stop

But he can’t drop

Because his mom told him

Always try to fit in

But never try to blend in

Pick the people that you hang with

And at the end of the day it’s what you changed

Not what you gained

That makes you great.

He remembers this at 3:30 on the way to school

But when he gets there he’s told he looks like a fool

And it’s not because the other kids are cool

It’s just that they’re cruel.

He fits in perfectly, just not his clothes

Goodwill is the only place that he goes

He’s hit with a daily “what’re those!”

All this does is go to show,

It doesn’t matter what you know

It doesn’t matter where you go

It doesn’t matter how you flow

You’re only judged on what you own

You see it’s the same as skin color, people don’t care what’s under.

People see you for what they see

Not for what you believe

They see you for the outside

And not the inside

There’s no pride

In a country

That claims to stand for diversity

Supposedly Stands against adversity

Since the birth of thee

1 million dollars worth of British tea

Poured into the sea

Liberty!

No more dependency

Time for democracy

But we’re running around hopelessly

I don’t know how this started

But ever since we came

We’re the ones to blame

Cars look different but they all drive the same.

Driving on the trail of tears

Marching on Selma

People being oppressed is part of history

But we’re the generation that will change that by any means

We’re a society that gives our child every dream

But a dream from 1968

Still can’t be made.

Martin Luther king Jr.

That name rings a bell,

It’s that black man that got shot

In a Tennessee hotel

The human race screaming

As he fell

He was still told to burn in hell

But our children, they could never tell

You see we teach our kids shapes and we teach them colors.

We teach our kids reading and we teach them numbers.

In 2017 kids operate screens and television machines before their early teens,

But for the love of God teach your kids “I have a dream”.

-Alex Davis