m.A.A.d. City Man

By: Annie Barry

This summer I took some chances while listening to Chance the Rapper because I liked the beat
But listened to Kendrick when I wanted some street poetry
Some urban poetry
From poets who grew up in suburban towns with an urban state of mind
Designed to have inclined to remind mankind of what it’s like for a human to be kind
I listened to m.A.A.d. city for the first time for the story and not the sound
I’m a kid from Kansas, I just click my heels and my mind runs back to the ideals
My poetry clears my head without having to hide in my bed
It’s my xanax, my completely contemporary confusing confiding complex can of comfort
My weighted blanket that’s blank when I don’t write
But that’s not right because my paper is never blank – sometimes I just run out of ink in my pen that’s all
Writer’s block because I can’t block out the black sky when I close my eyes
The bad barricade between blank walls, black walls
I blink red, blink blue – see ambulances coming at you
Sirens like angels singing in times square because the man in the alley told you to “square up”
You said to “shut up”
I said to “get up and go”
You said “No”
I think our world is a m.A.A.d city man
Or maybe you’re just a mad man in the city
A sad man looking for pity
Because you got stuck in conformity
Try to rap like everyone else
Because you can’t get a job
You write just to show not to tell
You don’t write to feed your soul
But because it feeds your ego
I write to breathe, not to please, but the deal with grief
Writing gives me what feels like the right type of rage,
rendering under red lights on a stage reminding me of stoplights I ignored when I started to write