#DSST: Moment of Clarity

October 16th, 2015 | By Sonnie Johnson

Always love chatting with students at @YAF.

A Trip Thru Liberalville

October 31st, 2011 | By Sonnie Johnson

Dormant Thoughts

August 8th, 2009 | By Sonnie Johnson

Mary had a loaded gun, loaded gun, loaded gun

Mary had a loaded gun, whose aim was straight and true

And everywhere that Mary went, Mary went, Mary went

And everywhere that Mary went, best believe her gun went to

She carried it shopping one day, shopping one day, shopping one day

She carried it shopping one day, which was against the rules

When the rapist came her way, came her way, came her way

When the rapist came her way, she knew just what to do

I’m I a fool

Turning nursery rhymes into preventing crimes

For overseers to chime/ in and so it begins

The release of my dormant thoughts

Jack and Jill went up the Hill to reach the American Dream

Jack got lazy, Jill got shady, what the perfect team

I mean, why climb the Hill for water

Instead of waiting for it to come down stream

What’s less intrusive, hard work or a broken dream

It would seem, the broken dream

Because with it comes a life time of what could have been

Buried in Jack and Jill’s dormant thoughts

Baa, Baa, Gold Sheep have you any wool

Yes, sir Yes, sir Three bags full

One for myself

One for government

One to help others when moneys’ finally spent

Or lent to other sheep so they can produce as well

You get more water when you build more wells

But the sheep clearly sees the writing on the wall

So instead he hibernated all through the fall

And when winter came, the sheep was nice and warm

While government ignores those freezing in the storm

In his dormant thoughts, the sheep wants to reach out to you

but he knows that means the government is coming too.

Pat-a-cake, Pat-a cake, Congressman

Make me a bill as fast as you can

Pork it

Don’t read it

And stand with shoulders tall

Because the bigger we are

The harder we fall

And crawl/ back home

To hear the voters say

Our dormant thoughts lead us astray

Little Barack Obama/sat in the corner

Eating his budget pie

He stuck in his thumb

Doubled the sum

and said What a good boy am I.

And our dormant thoughts reply “WHAT”!?!?!?!?!?

Glass Houses

June 8th, 2009 | By Sonnie Johnson

They say, “He who slings mud, loses ground”

Seldom is a source found that replenishes itself

That makes up what was lost

Without extra cost or an undesired result

The mudslinger knows this well

He sees the dirt on his hands and under his nails

Dirty hands for a dirty job

A dirty job filled with dirty deeds

The mudslinger sees no problem with these

Or this, Mentality

Ground maybe lost

Dirty hands maybe the cost

But who looks at dirty hands

When someone else has a dirty face

Dirty face wins the race

To ridicule and laughter

The mudslinger would have to move faster

Than the speed of light to look past

The mud he slung at someone’s elses’ path

And we laugh

Sitting in our Glass Houses

They say, “the grass the always greener, on the other side”

Here we go again believing their lies

With scratched up knees and scraped up thighs

Why is there a fence?

Where is the gate?

If every thing is so great, why make us wait?

Maybe our shade of Green is seen

As a source of comfort

For those on the other side

Who would willing open wide

Their gate to get a glimpse inside

Our glass house

While we’re banging to find a way out

They say, “It’s better to have loved and lost

Than to have never loved at all”

Should I slip and fall

Into looking for lessons learned

With no true concern

To the eyes focusing back at me

Through invisible walls

That cause pause for every passerby

That can spot a broken heart

And when I start to cry

They pick up rocks

Just as the mudslinger knows

The weight of his deeds

And like the green grass

Hide things only yet to be seen

The interesting thing

Glass houses are portable

While ground is being lost

So is the shelter

And while dreams are being spent

Going after what could be

We are exposed to letting everyone see

Our dirty hands and our dirty deeds

A Great Day

May 10th, 2009 | By Sonnie Johnson

And then on those days

When the sun is hot/ beating down upon your face

You hide and wait for the sun to fade

But so goes the day/ lost to the source of life

Never to be given back

And that day is a sad day

And then on those days

When the rain pours/ seeping into your hole ridden shoes

You refuse to move and let tears soothe a war torn soul

Like a broken heart in playback mode/ soaked and alone

Vowing never to love again

And that day is a sad day

And then on those days

When the winds blows/ forcing more effort into each step

You hide behind a tree to small to give you cover

While you look for another/ when a few steps get you to shelter

You find it better to not try

And that day is a sad day.

And then on those day

When the snow falls/ freezing your bones to their core

You search, and explore, and seek, but never find

The warmth you once thought hid in their lies

And you do it for yourself

And That, That Day Is A Great Day.

They Say

March 3rd, 2009 | By Sonnie Johnson

They say she’s special

And I am!

But not for the reasons they think

They see breast and eyes

Ass and thighs

Playboy pin-up up live

And personal

And Versatile

They say she is flexable

And I am!

To a Point, but don’t push it

Willing to see your side

Willing to compromise

Damn right I can make head touch thigh

But realize compromise is a two way street

Or ass and foot can meet

They say she’s mean

And I am!

What’s the excuse you use?

I’m a product of my envirnoment

I’m used to violence

I’m worried in silence

Emotion is an unexperienced pilot

So Yes, I refuse to get on the plane

They say she’s complicated

And I am!

I’m worth it, so work for it

My cook game on point

Massage game on track

Work your feet to your back

Then ESPN and a snack

They say she’s perfect

Have you lost your damn mind?!?

Daddy’s Coming Home

February 6th, 2009 | By Sonnie Johnson

There is no answer to Why

It’s only a question posed

By those

Who choose

To do the wrong thing for the wrong reason

Self-pity should be treated as a season

Allowed to past

With hope Spring will bring answers

to questions unasked

Behind every dark cloud there’s a silver lining, right?

Even though now I have to fight

My own self doubts

My own situation

This undeniable plight

Where I know I’m not wrong

But who’s to say I’m right

I do

Because he had no right

To take so much

11 at the first touch

I could question Why?

The man that gave you life

That fixed a boo-boo once or twice

Who said you’re sugar and spice

And everything nice

I could scream to the sky, WHY

But I won’t

Because my spring will come

I know I’m not the only one

that life has handed buckets of sorrow

But here I am with friends

And strength to borrow

I’m 16 now

And I get to shape my tomorrow

But I need some help

This is no easy task

I have to ask, someone to help me

Get past my past

Why?

Daddy’s coming home

Graduation Day!

January 23rd, 2009 | By Sonnie Johnson

Studies complete

Graduation underway

See, We graduated from

slave chains to ghetto names

ghetto names to welfare claims

welfare claims to loaded guns

with shaky hands trying to aim

To gain, What?

We graduate from

Checkers to chess

chest to vest

Vest two shades lighter than jacket

color coordinated with caskets

Cause we’re fly to death

But what’s left?

We have no problem graduating from

20 sacks to pounds

pounds to sounds

stories shaping what we sought out

and found

Hip Hop to music dumbed down

A silent ceremony?

We’ve went through

No shoes to borrowed soles

burdened souls to name brand clothes

credit cards to payday loans

no job but never lacking minutes on phone

You’ve got a text! Sender unknown

We’ve covered

no rights to the 15th

15th to silence

silence to civil diobedience

to riots and violence

In neighborhoods we call home

So now I have a question

Are we progressing or degressing?

In this lesson

I implore

Graduate to something more

Say,

whips and chains to lessons of the past

History of our ancestors to morals that last

hate and injustice to those with no sin be the first to cast

stones at the glass house

Or How about

Mother’s struggles to daughter’s ambition

Father’s absence to son’s mission

Victim to survivor transition

For you are not alone

Maybe

poor to credit worthy

credit worthy not because of government survey

but because your credit score is 700 or more

Let’s try

Fly to debt free

debt free to less stress

less stress to better health

Insurance cost is less

Or just for fun

my vote doesn’t count to massive political clout

political clout to massive turn out

Massive turn out to Black Man in the White House

Anything is possible.

It’s Graduation Day.

I’m An East Coast, Down South Kinda Girl

January 6th, 2009 | By Sonnie Johnson

You might find this funny but I love to watch the little music shows on public T.V. There is always some silly song or hilarious act straight out the 70’s that make you realize we aren’t that times may change but rarely do the ideas and principles of the people. I often find myself relating to those that seem to have very little in common with me at first glance.

I heard this song this weekend and it got me thinking. (Mostly because my beau dropped my daughter’s bed on my foot and I’ve been immobilized for the last few days.) But there are some things I Love about the east coast and some things I don’t. There are some things I Love about the South and some things I don’t. So I hope you enjoy.

I’m An East Coast, Down South Kinda Girl

My Youth was the South

Southern drawl dripping from my mouth

And I liked it.

The down home cooking made my day

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday was the time to pray

And I liked it.

When I was five I didn’t have any shoes

Not one single pair

If we were going some where me and my cousin would take turns and share

I won’t say I liked it but I didn’t really care.

We didn’t worry about locking doors

Mother’s weren’t ashamed of mopping floors

As long as food and clothes could be brought from the stores

And I liked it

The East Coast was my teenage years

My niggas taught me to live with no fear

And I liked it

New meaning came to words I’ve known forever

I was chased by dudes who’s tongues were clever

And I liked it

Style became important and I tried to follow the lessons

Even when it came to crushing some of my blessings

I won’t say I liked it but it countered teenage depression

The music, that’s what I remember the most

Artist didn’t spend their time trying to brag and boast

The idea was to enlighten and uplift the folks

And I liked it.

Time moves forward and so does the world

Even for this East Coast, Down South Kinda Girl

So now looking back, I’d change Liked to Loved

In each and every sentence above

I Love Virginia Baked Ham and Candied Yams

I Love fresh picked Collard Greens and Butter Beans

I Love anythings that’s fried with Mashed Potatoes on the side

The South wins food hands down

I Love men with no gold in their mouth

That’s a negative for most men down south

I Love women with a plan, Not those waiting for a man

Something most Down South Women don’t understand

I Love Big Cities and Bright Lights

The hustle and bustle of the East Coast at night

The East Coast wins swag hands down

When it comes to the moral side of the issue

Every thing gets a little more official

Most of my morals come from the South

Praising the Lord, not afraid to Scream and Shout

But the East Coast has some values to lend

You gotta make money to have money to spend

So where does my soliloquy end

Back at the beginning

I’m An East Coast, Down South Kinda Girl

And I Like—X that—- Love It

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Gotta add this. Down South girls don’t be mad at me. I know you have dreams and plans but our mothers still insist we need a man. That’s all I’m going to say. I know you understand.`

A Conversation Between A Man And A Woman

November 20th, 2008 | By Sonnie Johnson

This is something I wrote a while ago. It was a part of another project but I made some changes and it didn’t make the cut. So now I want to share it with you.

Let me give you a little back round first. A man, fresh out of Jail, with an opportunity to make changes in his life. He meets a non sense woman and the sparks fly. This is a conversation between the two, I hope you like.

The Man: I’m not right for you now. I don’t have anything to give you. I don’t know when I’m going to be ready to love you. I’m not a man because I can’t give you the things you need.

The Woman: I don’t need you to save me.
I might be a lady but I’m mighty.
I got the strength to hold you up, but I’m not going to give more of myself than you deserve.
I bear the brunt of my mothers’ weight on my back.
I make money in my sleep and that fly as shit.
I don’t bitch and moan cuz I keep running into black men with no plan to get ahead.
No desire to do something for themselves.

The Man: That’s not me. I was lead by those that took care of me.
I woke to money piles and weed and bitches with asses so fat you wouldn’t believe.
Then I gave my heart to a broad that walked away hard leaving nothing but dust in her tracks.
A seed that looks up at me and doesn’t see anything I’ve done in my past.
All she sees is her dad. She sees her dad.
Not in glimpses between drunken binges and smoked out benz or behind bars. I got a chance.

The Woman: It takes a lot more than a brother with problems to push me away.
I’m down to fight when the cause is right and the payoff is worth the pain.
To look inside and make a wise decision is something we been missin,
Left out of old traditions we still hold.
A man that understands a chance is nothing more than the opportunity to prove everyone wrong.
It might come in a touchdown or in a song, or a cold beer after a shift so long.
The man that stands up and points out the wrong, that lift up the weak and chastises the strong.
That over look the social crooks of the communities to which they belong.
I’ve meet the guys that realized and made it out.
They come back here with fancy degrees and screams and shouts.
There is racism everywhere, they’ll never let you out.
I can’t make it out. You made it out. What’s that about?
You and me let’s sit down and figure it out.
Did some magic man come and hand you a certificate to excel?
Did they add it all up and you were the one that tipped the scale?
Hell? You got some of that fairy dust to sell?
Or did it come at a cost?
Were you eating oodles and noodles and drinking the sauce?
Did you have to party less and study more, take a job scrubbing kitchen floors.
On campus no less.
Everybody seeing you, no one wanting to be you, and nothing but will pulling you.
See the ones who want to see the light, will question why day never comes after night.
Problems. Problems won’t push me away.
A brother that decides to stay in a mentality with no gray just black and white.
Never questioning why day never follows night.
That just ain’t right. You worth the fight?

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I’m on the move and my writings are going with me. This should be fun.