The art of Kevin Blythe Sampson

THE ART OF
KEVIN BLYTHE SAMPSON

9/5/09

Kevin Say: a day in My life or why doesn't any one speak english any more

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Why doesn’t any one speak

English any more

And if they are speaking it

I cant understand them

You know

you can really lose yourself

In the mix

In like mixing

with people

People are crazy

They make up all kinds of lives

Just to get through

their lives

Then

they not only believe

Their own press

But they export it

Yea,

I am in a bitching mood

If I hear one more black woman

Ghetto mommies

Talk the on the telephone

While in a store

If I hear one more

Boo

What’s up boo

While standing in line

Behind a 250 pound black woman

And her friend

Why do black woman always travel

In……………. well packs

One to run her mouth

And the other one to

Give you dirty looks

When you make a face at

the shear silliness of their home girl

AYup their she was sapphire

Talking on the phone

loud

Cursing

And generally Trying

To show the world that

She has a life

Beyond the trapping

Of poverty

And addiction

And phones

I hate cell phones for any one but me

They make people

think

That they have a life

people can sit in front of others

and Discuss Every thing

from their sex lives

To their recent medication’s

What is wrong with the world

And what Is wrong

with my people

But lets not just stop here

I came back home and stood in front of my door

Talking on my cell phone

Talking on the phone

While I bitched about others

Who talk on the phone

I looked to my left

At the Brazilians

I lived next to a Brazilian restaurant

They are next to me under neath me

All around me

The rest

Is filled with other stuffed macho

Brazilians guys

Who all look like they are either

Up in some gym

Taking some form of self defense

And this my no means

Mean

That they are in shape

I am talking on the phone now

Bitching about that black lady

To My friend Miss Anne

Every one is on their phone

The bus boys From the restaurant

Cross my path

Every two minutes

Their store house

Is right next to my door

Brazil

Brazil

Brazil my ass

One of the bus boys

Bends over to pick up

A can of dropped soda

He bends over

And his whole ass is exposed

No underwear

Brazil

Brazil

Every one see’s it most keep walking

He is one of theirs

And besides most of them

Have e some thing hanging out too

Their he is showing his ass

To both me and the world

I am still talking on the phone

About that drunken black lady

Now mixing in the butt

With the phone call

I tell her look

Black guys from my day

swam in their tee shirts

what the hell is wrong with the people

cover thy selves

get thee to a nunnery

I am channeling Michael

Jackson

Singing

leave me alone

I am talking on the phone

Telling my friend of my trials and tribulations

At the hand of these local savages

There is too much Africa here for me

My life

I feel like I am in a third world country

No one is speaking English

I am in my zone

Remembering why I hate people

Remembering why I hate phones

Wondering why any grown man

Would expose his unattractive

Ass to me

and the rest of the world

I run up my stairs

Shut my door and hide

For a minute

Soon I venture back out side

Hoping that the streets have cleared

Just as I am getting comfortable

Just as I light up my first cig

Just as I am enjoying the beauty

of being alone

I glance my left

And guess who’s coming to dinner

Yes the black lady

with the phone

I can hear her coming

all the way from down the street

Life a train

I can hear her curses

And fake laugher

As if I am in a large acoustically perfect

Hall

Doesn’t any one speak English

What language is she speaking

What hood rat dialogue is she muttering

Why cant I understand her

Why cant I understand the Brazilians

Why cant I understand any thing

I turn my head just in time

To see the Brazilian

Standing on the corner

Smoking and talking

in That high high

Brazilian

sing song voice

are all brazils tenors

falsettos

what’s up with that

I can still see

That his hairy butt

Is still partially on display

To the rest of the folks

That missed it the first time

I turn around just in time

For sapphire to mutter

One more curse to the

Invisible

Trapped I am sure

Occupant on the other end

Of the phone

I run

Jump into my bed

Pull the blanket

Over my head

And for a moment

Enjoy the silence

Why doesn’t any one speak English

Any more

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