Tired

See now, I’m just so...tired
of all these…liars
Brothahs and sistahs
claimin to be real
When all I truly feel
is…tired.
Tired of the same ol’ same ol’ same ol’ message
Him, Her, They, - touching, groping, feeling on cleavage
And what do we sing about?
What is it that we write about?
Kicks, money, and SEX
Now this all leave me perplexed
‘cause is this really all we are?
Shallow; is this the depth of out heart?
Perversity, erotica, fornication.
This is the make up of our communication -
and I’m tired.
Can we try and speak on something new?
I mean, there’s more to us than our “Bedroom Boom”
…Right?
When I read you work, I wanna be moved.
When we speak, I want convo that’s smooth
healthy
real
Something I can learn from
not something I can “cum” from
When I enter into discussion, I want to be blown away, impressed
yet this language of sin is unknown to me, and it refuses to grant me rest.
Disgusted am I at what our mentality has metamorphed in to
We’ve degraded ourselves and we inspire no more like we used to
I ask myself, As a people, what are our morals, our beliefs, our values
Have they all diminished, deteriorated, and come to a minimum too?
Who are we? What stands us out and makes us beautiful?
Our culture uplifts this thing called sex – but it only makes us pitiful.
We are an intelligent, wise, potent set of people; an able congregation
Ignorance leads us to our own death and I'm not sure how long I can be patient.
So now tell me, is lust our prized possession?
If it is, than we are a disgrace.
And my people, I’ve got a confession.
...
I ...
am ...
tired ...
(sigh)

by Dorlette Pierre-Louis