This poem is not about everybody’s kids, but you’ll see some truth in it. And it’s also about white, black and brown people… all races.
Every generation says it, because it seems so sage;
Boy, I wish I was younger, I wish I was your age.
Youth will always revolt, that’s what youth does;
Sometimes starting trouble and chaos, just cuz.
It seems today, the young are punks;
Some use drugs, and a lot are drunks.
There are many, who do the right thing;
It’s the bad apples, that get the public sting.
Most want to be Rappers, or Basketball stars;
They want the bling, and big fancy cars.
None of them will achieve this, on this we’ll have to agree;
Unprepared for life, they never even receive, a High School Degree.
The wannabe Rappers, really slay me;
Can’t dot an i, or even cross a T.
I read some of Kanye’s writings, can’t spell worth a damn;
Part of his “Art”, is that he’s such a ham.
Part of the problem I have, with the youth of today;
Some day they’ll take care of me, and right now, I say No Way!
One day they’ll have, low paying jobs:
Barely paying bills, and dressing like slobs.
If only they believed, in the value of education;
In Life, they could improve upon their station.
Centuries have past, and change is always occurring;
But the process of child rearing, is always enduring.
Bring them up, with love and support;
Even help them make, a blanket fort.
Send them to school, and teach them skills;
Help them be able to pay, their own damn bills.
Hopefully they stay out of trouble, and out of jail;
Chances are they won’t, and you’ll have to post bail.
After giving them your love, and all you’ve got;
Maybe they’ll appreciate it, but I bet not.
If you’re lucky, they’ll move on and won’t bother you again;
Because some parents, have them move back in.
All kids have potential, like being the President;
It’s all a part of being, a U.S. resident.
Give them hopes and dreams, but make it realistic;
If I see one more Rapper wannabe, I’m gonna get sick.
Until next time, be safe and have a chill day.