"Cricket Calls"I see it every day,
Those hips sway Like brush in the breeze, Form fit jeans, Blouse, shirts, skirts That hurt To imagine, Wet jet hair Forever Eyelashes slashing Over Colgate smiles, Clicking heels, Sexy stockings, Shocking exposure, Exposed shoulders that struck me And lips that say…. Well, let’s just say I see it every day And every day, I feel smaller See, I don’t have that Chippendale’s bod, Abs rock hard Or a tight plump butt, Mine just Needs to be enlarged, So I feel left out, Like I don’t have the things Women wanna see Before engaging conversation, So I’m prematurely placing Myself in a situation To lose Why can’t they just know I’m not a loser? Why can’ they just Hear my thoughts, Like Mel Gibson in “What Women Want’? Cuz I’m what women want: Honest and independent, Never been the defendant, Not one for beef Or drama, On February 14th My first call goes to momma, And the word ‘bitch’ Makes me cringe… I’m not a fan of cheaters, Leaders Don’t womanize, You know, The ones who keep side girls Just cuz they like straight hair and curls, Hissin’ Whistlin’ from two blocks down, Howlin’ Blood Hounds Who really think they’re not Intimidating anyone… The disrespect blows my mind, Cuz see, I’m raised by my mother, Who helped me discover, How to appreciate true beauty, Without turning into a Rabid rabbit Frenzied And outta control, Don’t people know That not every female’s name Is “baby”? That we’re all Born from a lady, Submerged from the womb of a Sacred temple And just maybe, If men learn to respect the ground Under a woman’s hard working heels, The feel, Of a female’s Air of confidence, They way they are Perfect pottery, Sculpted molded and heated, By the same hands that kneaded You, Defeated subdue, Maybe, Just maybe that lady Doesn’t need your regret, Maybe she’s a friend lover or soul mate You just haven’t met yet, But cricket calls And crooked comments, Are no way to get a friendly smile Or initial hello… Now I’ve always had friends Who fit this description, So this is my conviction To all of you Poor pitiful people Who push up and pressure, Provoke and project your Inadequacies On a soul that’s content, Spew your Matriarchal resent Lined with contempt, This Is when I stop playing the sidelines exempt, And let you know, You make me nauseous, And now a guy like me Has to be cautious Every time I even think Of starting a conversation with a female… It’s hard enough as it is To muster esteem From between Shaky ribs and a once shattered heart Still in the shop, But you have added more obstacles To a course where I should succeed, Than I need, More frustration Than writing poems of pain Where my pen cries And my paper bleeds, I concede, I feel like the Taliban, Fighting a war I’ll never win, Just taking hurtful pieces, Like mosquito bites on summer nights My cause feels hopeless… But I just want to Convey this message, The way that some treat women Is genocide… Think about it Even Tupac shouted “and if we don’t we’ll have a race of babies That will hate the ladies That make the babies…” The man was far from crazy, He saw the shady degrading Behavior invading, The better half Of our mating Incentives, The world’s princesses And though we’re all taught history Through bias books, And Euro-male outlooks, History, Is lined with so many important women, That maybe we should call it “Herstory”… Other recommended poems based on this one:
WAR | TORNADO | HE | I AM (a poem about life) Need help writing slam poetry? Check out some posts, blogs and articles here |
"Cricket Calls"... A slam poem about social issuesThis is a spoken word poem about respect for women, and it's about the way I have seen people treat females on the streets, particularly here in New York. I call it "Cricket Calls" - but this is a poem about 'cat calls' (the more widely known/recognized term). You know what I'm talking about. I hate those motherfuckers.
Walking and living on the streets of New York City, one thing that always made me uncomfortable was when a group of guys would whistle and cat-call (or 'cricket call') at women as they passed. And if it made me feel awkward, I can't imagine how irritated and wretched it made those women feel - probably just downright angry. This poem explores women's strength, my own gut and emotion and how that bullshit makes me feel! Hope you enjoy this spoken word piece, and I hope it sparks something up in you that makes you want to write something similar! |