PROUDLY A #BLMSAFEHAVEN | Why FERN THE POET? Over 3 years of daily reflection writing, 4,000 dedicated hours and counting, resulting in three books and a unified mission: To inspire students who struggle academically and students of life who struggle with unconditional self-love to discover who they truly are, unearth their humanity and voice through being vulnerable, and find their nobleness of now: their unique transformational leadership abilities. | You are not here accidentally. Let's Team Up.

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Uncomfortable (poem/book#3)


Want to walk a mile in my sneaks?
You might want to break ‘em in.
Yet another opportunity for bickering.
You can’t see what you don’t wish to see.
We are all warring with ourselves,
can we be at ease? Will you try to listen please?
So much to juggle circa teenage years,
but most adults don’t understand.
Will you try to understand?
Forced dependence while bearing adult emotions at times lead to depression;
a roller coaster ride of woes through the universe
with responsibility to conduct necessary circus tricks to enter university. –
How else could it be?

Money could solve so many of my problems.
Desmond said not to make them more bearable,
but instead have them removed.
Can I buy my way out of this segregation loop?
Can I pay for ivy league tutors, too?
I don’t even want the icing from the top,
I just want the inside scoop.
Can one really buy their whole way through?
Can my daddy donate a building to the school?
Can my application get an expert revision?
I’m trying my very best to embrace a sense of unity;
I just wish that my competition didn’t receive acceptance letters for writing essays
that highlight their volunteering at my schools and in my community. Hmm?

Every day for me is volunteering,
even if I do not choose to put it on a resume.
Can that be the topic of my essay, eh?
Please don’t feed me what I have to say.
Generation after generation, it has been my tree of life,
is my poverty even fruitful?
Can twenty-four hour, seven days a week presence in the ghetto be my loophole?
If no, then can we please just barter?
I cannot even afford my application fee for starters. (‘Sounds like a you problem.’)
I don’t want to be so broke.

I’ve tried asking for support
and I was told I needed to supply it to myself,
as my teachers do with school supplies.
I was hurt,
I tried my best to suppress it,
and it has been working for some time now,
I realize.
Failure at bay, still all sharks are lurking;
the budget is a policy that we must revise.
Landlords who are stingy get rundown homes,
so rundown schools should not be a surprise.
We are measured by our graduation rates
and not our qualification rates,
should that too be made public?
Are we too embarrassed?

If out of sight is out of mind,
are we out of our minds to ask why we are out of budget?
No freebies and no meal tickets,
but finance is indeed one of our main three courses.
There are so many lessons that we must learn,
yet just a few are being tested
and more than a handful are just debated.
Sex education and its allotments has repercussions,
the devil’s advocate, can we address them?
No. Learn it from your music.

This is like my version of a Gettysburg address,
I haven’t found my better yet,
I am searching for a new address.
I will take a mansion in Gettysburg.
I do wish I could, but I’m still a dependent
and I’m living where my city is currently deeming as unfavorable, high-risk, low-potential land.
Where is honest Abe when you need him?

No more brain pilfering and pillow soft landings.
This is all just the result of jumping off the motivational speaking wagon
and onto intentional inspirational listening.
Students have a voice and we should hear it.
If change starts from the top,
I question how high must their working hands now reach?
Noise to sound, sound to voice,
will you allow your ears to make a choice?

Generational poverty,
someone made my bed for me.
When reforms make the coversheets look pretty
but the mattress is still really uncomfortable,
where are we to sleep?
We need backbone for the back pain. I’m waking up.

Here’s to being open, no more keeping face,
I’m just really hoping for a break.
I’ve been told that college isn’t a question of will I go
when it reflects a continuation of the high school experience.
Why can’t we too wear the pants?
Why must I be forced to sell candy and t-shirts?
Why can’t my school successfully acquire grants?
We don’t see the fun in funding, we just feel the dings.
Wow, that is just too clever; better will come later,
it is just the timing, please make due with less.

I went out to seminars to learn how not to be broke again,
halfway through I felt like I should first address my being broken.

The teenage years are quickly lost.
Is it too late to find them back if I’ve just turned thirteen?
I wonder how treasured they would be,
without, from every angle,
the soft and gentle strangle of the ghetto’s superimposed financial strains,
I wonder?

Stolen innocence,
I wonder why I am so demotivated yet demanding?
Why can’t I just overcome situations that are meant to be depressing?
Why can’t I keep my head down and just make due
with what we simply have to work with?
No matter the learning environment and the teaching conditions,
we all practically get a free lunch.
How can I get decent work without that piece of paper?
I know I need it.
I know I need to buckle down and do the work.
I know I can.
There’s a goal that I need to continue to run towards.
I’m moving but my mind is so involved with my footwear.
I just wish that I could be better prepared.
I just feel like I’m a long way to getting there.
Does anybody care? What happens if I no longer care to go?

Do you still wish to walk a mile in my sneaks
or have I made you uncomfortable?

Have you read: How to stay steadfast...?


"If I push you fall, if I inspire you fly, you are loved as you are, you don't need to try." Book #2