John

Written by C Hues

December 20, 2023

There once lived a young man named John.
His father was black and named Ron. 
His mother was Irish.
Looked like Billie Eilish.
So, he named his sons Tyrone and Sean.

December Repairs

Written by C Hues

December 19, 2023

The metro is closed.
Don’t stress; there’s shuttle buses.
But they’re not here yet.
The buses are delayed too.
And it’s pouring, so we’re soaked.

December repairs 
Have made your riders happy—
Way to end the year.

Ridership’s down now.
That was the excuse you gave.
But was it really?
You won’t pay yours overtime.
Now we’re paying all the time.

That’s a Wrap

Written by C Hues

December 18, 2023

You ain’t shit here—how’d you get here?
My grandma could’ve passed before she passed.
They say we’re what they fear,
But it’s the first that keep fuckin’ with the last.

What do you call a black man in a taxicab?
A ghost.
Who calls a taxicab anyway?
Who calls it a taxicab anyway?
Every one that passes I’m looking at the tags,
As if the cops will be on my side like racism’s a crime.
I’m getting in the Uber and I got a 4.9.
Oops, now it’s 4.8.
Is it cause of hate?
Should I put up with the hate if the metro makes me late?
Should I drive myself to work and fuck up the environment?
Should I quit my job, but with my name, all of a sudden they ain’t hirin’?
See how this world makes you so sane and sure?
If you’re black, you won’t even see the door. Thanks.

You ain’t shit here—how’d you get here?
My grandma could’ve passed before she passed.
They say we’re what they fear,
But it’s the first that keep fuckin’ with the last.

It’s the age of rap,
Yet we’re still singin’ the blues.
Progress—that’s a wrap.

Goodbye, Young Man

Written by C Hues

December 16, 2023

Goodbye, young man. I didn’t want to know you.
I know you didn’t want to learn and didn’t want to grow too.
As you reached new heights, your soul sank low.
So one years’ time moved a snail’s pace slow.
Goodbye, young man. Time’s gone, now go.
If I say “you”, I can bear the blow.
As your Spring cools and skips to snow.
Goodbye young man, it’s not for show.

Overnight, I aged a hundred years.
Now, sleep is the greatest of my fears.

When you live by your libido,
Your passion is surpassed by your ego.
When you live by passion,
Self-destruction is an art form.

Your passion is surpassed by your ego
When you’re young and dumb.
Self-destruction is an art form,
When you don’t have to fight for crumbs.

Now, sleep is the greatest of my fears.
Overnight, I aged a hundred years.

Warpaths

Written by C Hues

December 15, 2023

There’s the past paved before me; I ignore paths.
The artist was the choice, or it was warpaths. 

You’ve got to follow suit, it has to fit you, son.
But sometimes the right roads are not the sure paths.

There isn’t time to follow, wish I knew that then—
To mimic is to lessen, not make more paths.

But now I’ve learned my lesson, it’s instilled.
There’s only what you make, you can’t ensure paths.

I traded gifts for glory, and I didn’t C the truth.
Now I’m enriched, though still with youth—I won’t take poor paths.	

I traded myself.
I couldn’t be what they were.
I betrayed myself.
I looked like them, but I’m not.
I’m an artist, no robot.

Remember, you used to think you were cool,
Playing war games after school.

Sometimes you waste time.
When you realize what it means,
You’re old; time wastes you.

Where’s that fire, now your passion’s cooled?
Playing dead, cause you got schooled.

I search my heart deep.
I try to find an ember.
To be continued…