Oh, High School, Oh High School: An Ode to a “Sorry Ass Nigga.”

Do you ever go back in time ala journals? I have several which I have advised my husband to promptly take to the backyard and burn upon my death.

As I’ve been tediously working on my memoir, I’ve dusted a few old journals off to peruse for memories and material.

Reading over my high school journals has been a lesson in humility.  What drama queens!  What sordid affairs!  Everything is (like) so important, and every boy is (like) “the one!”

While, it’s been downright embarressing to re-read these -literal- tear-stained pages, I have also had to crack up at myself and the intensity with which every relationship brought.

And here now, in all my high school glory is the sordid tale of a boy who hurt my feelings: set to poetry of course!

(I am hoping the title won’t offend you.  You must remember I was in high school.  A wee 15 year old searching for a voice, not to mention dying to be popular & cool!

Swearing and using the reclaimed “n” word to talk badly of mean boys was (like) ALL the rage for young African-American girls in my hood).

*As an FYI, as-of-late I choose to NOT use the reclaimed “N” word for general use as I find that my African-American friends from across the US have differing beliefs about the wisdom of blacks retaking such a demeaning word.  So, now I only use it with my super-hood, Detroit hoodies in context, in private.  Back in high school though?  Every. Other. Word.*

(And if your wondering if I would describe myself as a “super-hood Detroit hoodie,”  ummm, yeah)!

**And now that I’ve gone into so much more explanation than I intended to, maybe I’ll write another post later about the use of the reclaimed “n” word by African-Americans.  And about why I don’t think white people can EVER SAY IT. EVER.

EVER.

Not even if your singing Kanye Wests’ Goldigger.  Not even then.

(You know what? I AM going to do a post about this soon)!

Okay, back to my “poetry…”

Sorry Ass Nigga

You “never meant to”

You “didn’t mean me no harm”

You “value me”

You “just thought”…

What makes you think?

Why don’t you think?

You meant it.

You mean harm.

You gave me no value

Now I’m gone

“I’m sorry” this

“I’m sorry” that

You are sorry

You need to think.

Think about what you say.

Who is it

that told you to act on each urge?

You don’t know the ears,

the eyes,

the heart of the one you “meant no harm.”

You don’t know.

You don’t know

what I hear.

“I want(ed) you,

but now I don’t”.

“I didn’t mean it”

“I meant you no harm”

“I just thought”…

“I’m sorry” this,

“I’m sorry” that.

You meant it.

You wanted it.

You felt it.

But you didn’t know

it would harm

Steal value

Steal hope

Steal freedom

Steal hard-fought-for declarations

You meant no harm

But harm is done

Now I’m gone.

Don’t look back.

While you urge

I get value,

hope,

freedom

from someone else.

A worthy man.

A man who thinks.

A man who means no harm,

does no harm.

You are not a man

not a friend.

Not worthy

of me.

Are you sorry?

Prove it

to someone else.

I’m gone.

(Can’t you just see me sitting on my bed, alone in my room, weeping while listening to Brian McKnight’s “One Last Cry,” writing a sad, sappy poem about a mean boy?)

It’s just hilarious.

High school, oh high school you were such a riot,

**And while were on the subject of high school, DON’T FORGET to leave me a comment on this post for a chance to win an autographed CD from either Adele, Taylor Swift, Keri Noble, Jack Johnson or Corine Bailey Rae!

Give me your best guess at who I attended high school with & how many in our graduating class.  I’ll select a winner using random.org. So comment away! =)