Audio By Carbonatix
This week’s cover story, “Hip-hop 101,” describes a new venture by CU-Boulder English Professor and Anthology of Rap co-editor Adam Bradley: A “Hip-Hop in the Classroom” program based at Montbello High School, the far northeast Denver school in the midst of a drastic turnaround plan. The story focuses on one student in particular: Montbello junior Jalon Marin, a budding poet who English teacher Alison Corbett says could gain the most from Bradley’s rap academics. So what has Martin learned? Read the 16-year-old’s poems below.
See also:
– Hip-hop 101: Adam Bradley is revolutionizing education…one rap at a time
– “The Field”: An ode to America’s obsession with criminals, sports and commercials
– Jake Adam York: Rest in peace…and poetry
My Life
I understand who I am, but do you?
Society has labeled me as a criminal
But in reality I’m just like you
Can you see past the skin color, can you see past the
Ignorant stereotypes, and the stories that they have told?
Unwanted because I am bold
I’m only 16 years old
But they never see me, they see clearly through me
They don’t believe in the man I am becoming
But persecute the man that I am colored
No wonder why in this world I am just a number
My mother told me that there was only one me and no other
No father in my life, so my father is my mother
But who is there to blame
Because we play a part in this stereotypical game
That all black people are the same
That all we do is play ball, blow trees,
Get pregnant and gangbang
Man I’m sick and tired of dong the same things
My mind is a weapon
But I’m protected by this 12-gauge
I’m engraved with rage that has put my mind in an ill state
I have so much faith, but constantly I feel pain
My body is filled with rage
And my heart is nothing but cold hate
All that warm love left my body
The day my brother became an inmate
I intake the pain
Sacrificing my childish ways
Cleared my mind, to create space
For thoughts of the insane
The pain I create with the choices I make.
Continue reading for more poems.
Minorities
Why are Hispanics and African Americans called minorities?
Why are we portrayed as a word that means less than something else?
It was our cultures that contributed to the development
Of American society today. But we still remain a minority
I am a minority
But don’t judge me by my appearance
Judge me by my knowledge
Don’t judge me by my strength, but by my strength in words
Don’t judge me by my past, but by my dreams
A minority is president
But people still can’t accept and
Believe the true potential of minorities
I am called an African American
So why do I feel that I have to walk, talk
And think white to be accepted by America
At times I get convinced that in this society
I am just a percentage
A percentage that is expected not to go to college
A percentage that is expected to be locked up
Why does America get to decide who I become, who I am?
Am I a man who is meant for less, or destined for more?
Am I a man who needs to be changed, or brings the change?
You see my mind has been conditioned by this public school system
That with the right education, you can be anything
So why am I constantly portrayed as nothing
Now thanks to the American government
They got these Hispanics hiding and running
Breaking up all these families and they don’t even do nothing
Just because they are who they are
They can be asked for their green cards
And then put them behind bars, and if you don’t think that’s wrong
You’re inane
And maybe your mind is crazed, because if you think about it
Hispanics and blacks make up most of America’s population today
Every race in this country has broken some type of law
But when a Hispanic or black does it
These judges and cops get to jumping off the walls
Just ready to put one in us
It don’t really matter if we’re living
It’s a burden to bear, and people have lives to continue living
It’s sad and thoughtless how minority deaths
Are way too common
We stay ready to kill each other
Over a ‘hood or a color
We are all seen the same way
So why have we built a war with one another
In reality the real war is with these
Silly governmental people
Honestly we can fight this evil
The same way Mr. King and Chaves did
Then these stereotypical chains will turn to loving relief
And we’ll start breaking away for change
Understanding our labeled name
And if we do this together
A minority we’ll never be called again
—
I haven’t been called an American
And in this civilization
I’ll accept I’ll never be one
I just hope America
Recognizes a real honest man
When they see one.
Continue reading for more poems.
Make It
I just want to make it.
All of this drama surrounding me
I don’t know if I can take it
Give me your heart, baby and I promise that I won’t break it
And all you superficial girls, way better completely naked
Excuse the language, the words that I have spoken
Are filled with so much emotion,
And created by the choices that I have chosen
I am a great man, society fails to notice
And I don’t have a bad temper, I was just born to be ferocious
Mind of a killer, actions of a lover
No thought of having no father, all I need is my mother
Raised by my brothers, the pain that I have suffered
I cherish life day to day
Because it’s never promises there will be another
I worship silence because your mouth can get you in trouble
Speak the truth, or don’t speak at all
I don’t get involved
With lowlifes
They don’t got no life, so they decide to waste it
I wonder if I could have saved him
Inflamed we hate
I felt the pain
When he passed away
So I cleared my mind, built my pride
And was forced to open my eyes
On the road to riches
But society slashed my tires
I’ve been dedicated and meditated on medication
Hearts are racing
And bullets flying and cops are chasing
The law has done me wrong
So I ain’t friendly to badges and white faces
The world, I understand now
I’m a man now
I don’t need no hand-outs.
16 and having visions of the victory
My future is a mystery
My mind is filled with misery
I keep crying out to God but I think he’s having trouble hearing me
(hand in air)
I pray to God that he destroys all this fear in me
Or who I fear to be
They say my future is looking bright
But when I look I see the streets
It’s impossible to believe that we will ever have peace
—
In a world that was built on greed
My pride fits my needs
I will strive till I bleed
My position at the top is almost guaranteed
—
I’ma make it.
For more on the program, visit this week’s cover story.
