My White Converse

mornings when i wake up

i'm surrounded by shadows the colors of outer space.

the sky's midnight blue 

and it's begging me to go back to bed.

but i carry on.

and later the amber reflections of the sun almost blind me.

just a typical day except the grass seems a bit more beige than emerald.

at school i notice shoes...

there goes the girl that wears pink flower printed flip-flops in winter.

those Jesus sandals everywhere.

the pimp who's so old school he rocks a new fresh pair of Jordan's everyday.

neon nikes. and navy vans.

and the rare chick that can rock wearing heels to school. S/o to Maddi Dean.

Then the girl who wears strappy sandals decked in gem stones

to stand out even just a little.

and the boy wearing black sneakers

trying his hardest to be unnoticed. 

then i look down at my own shoes 

trying to figure out the statements i make.

Then i realize my converse are too white, they look too new

cuz it looks weird to have blindingly bright shoes.

so i try to scruff  'em up a bit 

but now they look too wrecked too soon.

i'm gonna buy new ones.

i never bought new converse so now mine are really trashed.

but every green grass stain reminds me of football games

and every grey stratch reminds me of all 

the shoes that stomped on me at parties.

and all the black marks remind me of late night street adventures.

now i'm really not buying new chucks

cuz mine are stained with memories of friends and fun

and a reminder to when times seemed like death

but were really just breezy.

forget yearbooks cuz my converse are high school wrapped up in one object,

represents good ol' trends and good times.

times when i'd loose myself and find myself in paris.

times when i learned riemann sums and how to kiss boys.

times when i'd forget to be home by midnight 

but remembered everyone who made a difference.

times when i felt too brown to hang with the white kids 

and too white to hang with the brown kids. 

this poem was supposed to be just about colors.

but it turned out to be about high school and white chuck taylors

and about the times when on typical days,

i thought the grass seemed more beige than emerald. 

Places&People

So i've been thinking about cities well places

about the different places there are.

some people have never left their city or their town, their place.

and as much as you read or watch about cities or different places

you don't know them.

you don't really know them.

not until you've inhaled their air, not till you've strut down their streets,

not till the day you catch yourself prouncing "dog" the way they do,

or "creek" the way they do, or calling a group of people "ya'll".

Not until that day can you claim you've "been here" or "been there".

and i believe that. 

So what makes Omaha different from Newark or

Philly different from Austin or Mesa?

it's not the air. it's not the streets, or the trees,

the buildings, or the places called home.

It's the people. 

you might hate me for claiming that people are the biggest difference.

well maybe it is the air or the streets that make the people different sure...

But a place isn't a place until different people make it a place

and define it as a place. People define a place

and make a place what they want.

To Alicia Keys, New York's a concrete jungle where dreams are made of.

and i think Biggie Smalls said he's going going back back to Cali Cali.

and Fergie thinks Miami's saying "la la la la la".

so maybe it's Fergie that makes a place a place. i don;t know.

But i do believe we define places as much as they define us.

it's the ocean that makes us feel free.

it's the mountains that make us feel safe. 

it's the skyscrapers that makes us feel like we can fly.

it;s the bridges that help us feel like when can connect.

it's the deserts that make us feel like adventurers.

it's the jungles that make us feel like explorers,

But people aren't people until different places make them people

and define them as people. Places define people

and make people who they are.