I Got No Gimmick

My parents did not migrate
And I grew up nowhere near the hood
I was surrounded by alligators
Swimming in rivers and bayous
Oblivious to the revolving world outside
Ghetto dreams and fantastic schemes
Simply aren't my foray
Personal histories are dangled before me
Like puppets on a string
They sing to me of rags to riches
And triumphant struggles, both ways uphill
Preaching penny pinching philosophies
To poverty stricken wards
To put a face on the American struggle
Of remaining a minority under Uncle Sam's watchful eye
Tenderly, gracefully sneaking off with bits of flesh
Bankrolls are spread thin
Like a single mothers payday advance loan
Already presenting issues with the re-payment schedule
Monday through Friday, wedged in a corner
Of some forgotten space
Powerless against the corporate wills and growing bills
Stuck like a pig
There is no way out of this rat race
But I have friends who care
And a family that is mostly supportive
I have no piles of luggage
To unload on some random soul
I'm just a receiver
An antenna, bent awkwardly for better reception
Contorted in pre-prescribed positions of power
But lacking all the authority
Words bubble on my lips
Popping, smacking in defiance of some great unknown
My strained voice falters on the wind
Drowned in waves of better stories
More apt backgrounds
That shape people into who they are
But I am your mother, your father,
That homeless man under the bridge
I've gone from rags to riches
And been pulled right back down again
To survive in squalor, a so called leech on society
I reek of complacency and stand in the background
A bland face amongst a sea of more interesting features
But I remain a part of the wave
Crashing down around you, a ceremonial rite
By which I will write what I believe to be right
Regardless of my less than traumatic journey
During the course of this particular life thus far
Experience is but one form of wisdom
These bunny ears catch all the channels
And they become less static drenched
With each step I take towards the horizon