Democratic Free Education, Cheap TV, and the Learning Ceiling
by Sabrina Dawkins
We were told there were 17 floors
at the entrance of the school building.
During the Democratic primaries,
outside, voices in the night
chanting for Hillary
and a charismatic homosexual.
We started up the stairs
in the dark.
But the seventh floor was the last.
And on it was unused wood
for the unbuilt floors.
The white man there told me
the higher floors would be built
after school.
On that seventh and final floor,
I saw the familiar face
of a black girl
from my high school senior class.
She was now a teacher,
holding an unused wood building slab
at her classroom door,
which I approached to enter.
Her vote went to
the charismatic homosexual.
And she committed adultery with him
in her heart and with glee.
Israel is an adulterous woman.
And for that, she will be
taught by another nation:
free brainwashing.
I was 17 at graduation,
with a seven-year-old’s education?
I wasn’t told there were only seven floors.
They tell you there are 17
when you enter.
As I climbed the winding steps
in the dark,
I believed I’d reach the top,
to see Floor 17.
It was a lie.
I’d have to build the rest
after graduating.
Then I turned on the TV
and it told me I could be anything
without leaving my couch.
I could dream.
My diet consisted of streams
of empty words
spoken by television stars.
to keep my eyes and disregard
my brain.
And I was so entertained
I didn’t realize my mind was empty
of useful things.
My seven-year-old brain couldn’t process
the assault it received
from TV, a drug to ease
the pain with drunkenness,
eyes dizzied by fast things
on a 2D screen
and a mind stuck at seven
and filled with TV dreams.
DJ Khaled was my friend,
and so was Drake, Eminem,
Cardi B, Fat Joe, Tekashi.
Call me an N
in blackface.
Be my president.
Sell me dreams,
a false reality,
iced-up wrists,
gold chains and teeth.
Just don’t make me
wake from this dream:
I love flashing images.
And when I want to briefly wake
to stretch stiff limbs,
hand me a faulty alarm bell,
fake wokes
like Nas, Gambino, and Lauryn Hill,
who told her fan
Nicki Minaj, “Keep spittin’ dat fire,”
never mind her filthy lyrics
are destroying souls.
A stream of words, numbers
that go up to the seventh floor
and plateau. I didn’t know
there were no higher grades,
even as I continued with school,
graduating at 17.
And college wasn’t a higher floor,
just more of the stream
of false information.
And my mind went in circles,
the academic elliptical
to cause sweat on the brow
while standing still:
the illusion of learning
to keep me stunted and vulnerable
in an unholy world.
Watch Nicki Minaj Bow Down to Her Hero Lauryn Hill When She Meets Her for the First Time by Cady Lang October 17, 2016.