After five (2005)

It is after five
five 5:53 to be exact
when my opinion hereby
becomes fact
somebody asked me what I hoped for today
and I couldn't answer
but
I write this poem because
sixty six years ago
My grandmother lacked the five dollar tuition to finish her college education
five dollars?
a dollar made by man to have value
a man devalued by a dollar
a prime number
one short the sign of man
and one too many
to be the four corners of the earth
and yet
Five cents and a a man will pay a colored girl's fare to planet nowhere
all the way
or so they say
so I throw my .05 into the wishing well
wishing that
d boys would fly kites
instead of keys
roll bikes
instead of trees
see big lights
instead of big letters
that read
property of the state penitentiary
I'm humming out a hymn
in hiphop blue notes
praying for five seconds
that five minutes
becomes five hours and I can yet again say I made it through another day
all on faith
hoping that
somebody will pay my fare
all the way to somewhere
out there
and not over the rainbow
of which us colored women have
sho'nuff had enough
but it gets difficult sometimes
and I wonder sometimes
while riding the seventy-five
if I am singing zion or
singing a threnody
where ghettofabulous has become synonymous with
static
and people still think God is nascent
I labor for my five foremothers
reincarnated in
and the boldest baddest
zaftig beauties
laving against
a wall of battered spirits that is too big to break through
but being beautiful and determined
they dig under it, over it and around
trying not to do the inevitable
...break down
In five years
I've broken down boundaries
broken down walls
broken my nails
broken bones
and broken into my own home when i lost my key
and broken down
because of assata
because of tupac and all the other tupacs
because of all the nameless people i know
who will never be people you know
because they aren't important enough to be on the
cover of time, and vogue and the new york post
because i know that for all the world rewards lavish life
in the fast lane
cribs is not a reality but that ain't the tragedy
because the world hates those who don't participate in the insanity
because jesus died on calvary

and anyway, who has time to worry about
fainéant self-indulgence of sitting out a fight
when he was fighting all his life
agianst people who
didn't even know him like that?

I wish that people could
just be simple
rolled and clean
like socks
and appreciate the beauty of utility
but that just isn't life

in real life we seldom get votes, although we should
but voting won't solve all the worlds problems
or remove all the d-boys from the corner
pushing keys
and send them looking for kite in a summer sky again
it won't restore
the blossom to the tree
which leaves one wondering what's a colored girl
in a blank palette world to
do?
When shoutin'
and cryin'
and votin'
and cookin'
and dancin'
and writin'
and pushin'
and shovin'
and hatin'
and lovin'
and withholdin'
and payin'
and buyin'
and prayin'
and rememberin'
and fightin'
and standing
still
isn't enough

I wrote this poem because sixty six years ago my grandmother lacked the five dollar tuition to finish her college education

thinking about how little old me can change anything in the world after five but my ego
and then I remember

and I pause
and I stand still
and pray and wait
and hope
that somebody will
pay my way
through
after five minutes of waiting I ask
God, is that you?