In front of the class
i'm standing in front of a class
society has deemed derelicts and hoodlum
and i am their teacher

i am writing the poem
that will save the world
and they say that it's got to be as good
as a nas rhyme and have more emotion
than tupac did

my class consisting
of ex-gang bangers, graffiti writers, drug dealers,
and students who have traveled too much
in the cracks of the public school system
they are my students

and as their teacher
i have traveled as many roads
as they have, and stand in front
of them without fear
because they can smell fear
i am them eight years ahead
with poetry being the left turn i made at 17
i tell them that road is approaching
all they have to do it take that road
and run down it so fast that their past
will never catch up to them

i tell them in their metamorphosis
they can change their name
their place of rest, their life,
their career, their goals
and strive for that that has seemed
unattainable for so many years

one student says "how?
it's easy for you to say it now
how the hell am i supposed to get there,
i have one kid, one gang after me, and no job,
how the hell am i supposed to go anywhere
besides down.

i ask him "how bad do you want it?"
in the beginning all i had was poetry
everything else took a back seat
girls, family, and work was a part time
that lasted 6 months with me getting
fired for writing on the job
i tell them to use their connections,
intern somewhere
learn to live, live to write
love to learn, write to love

this is the last day of your life
what are you going to leave behind?
what will be your legacy?
and they stare at me like
a rabbit in the headlights
and say they don’t know

i tell them to open their chests
and let whatever falls out
let it fall on the page

let the page be
your doctor
your therapist
your lover

let the page be
your enemy, punch it in the face
the best friend that'll never stab you in the back
your prozac
let the page be
your hip hop
your rock and roll
the fancy ride you're always talking about

let the page be
the bling bling on your wrist
the underground beat your about to rip
your autobiography

tell them who you are
tell them they're wrong for labeling you
tell them your life may not be worth anything now
but tomorrow gives you hope
so you won't take your life today or the next day
tell them you will be here forever
tell them you are the future your parents have been planning for
tell them you are the ones who create beautiful art from stark realities
tell them you are loved
no matter what anyone says
tell them you are loved

and they write
head down for fifteen minutes
pen in hand
never coming off the page
no cares for grammar
no cares for spelling
no cares for structure
never coming off the page

and the first student gets up
and his mouth open wide and says

"i want to live"
"i want to love"
(repeated a hundred times over)
"i want to live"
"i want to love"

and he asks me
if that was any good
and i tell him
it's the best poem
i've ever heard.