BYFA

Synaia DeVaugn

How I Got Here

My name is Michael.
I’m writing this in remembrance of the last days of my life.
You probably remember me as “The king.”
As a shining star that could never be dimmed.

If you thought that, then obviously you’ve never been famous.
Never had a scandal in your name.
And have never felt the pressure of having to please complete strangers
That’s on fire for you one night then cold the next day.
Prolly why we call them fans in the first place.

But anyway, as I was laying in my hospital bed,
I got to think about my life and how I ended up there.
50 years and it was nothing but dysfunction.
Daddy was mean and cruel and stern,
and he would just beat us.
He wanted perfection.
Long hours of practice to establish this boy band that he co-created 
And made it into one of the world’s greatest sensations.
But I just wanted a father.

Behold, the perfect example of a child prodigy broken for the world’s expectations. 
Always told what I need to do and how my life’s going to be. 
But no one ever consulted me. 

So it’s not a shock that I was headed for a downhill spiral. 
Headed down the path of destruction. 
Headed for something that would burn me like a fire 
My head still hurts cause my heads still on fire.

The tabloids had it out for me.
The baby on the balcony.
And Neverland is now the place that’s stained with claims of children’s names.

My life was pain.
Let me explain.
Go listen to the Price of Fame. 
My life was just that scary so that’s why I made Thriller.
King of Pop, 
King that pops pain killers.

Addicted to prescriptions cause that’s all that makes me feel better.
Now Wacko Jacko spends dollars just to feel better.
And I’m so lonely my one friend is named the pill bottle.

100 and 12 pounds now,
And you can see how. 
In my last days I felt like a failure.
And now you can tell how I got here. 
I lived a life that was bound to kill me, for you.

Markell Fairfax

Bullets in Iraq

I see the bottom of their eyes as they roll into the back of the cranium
I see the consciousness of their life’s decisions flashing like a blinking light
I see justice exacted by the pull of my finger on the trigger
This is why I came to Iraq
This is why it brings me pleasure like nothing else
This is why the world needs people like me
People who recognize the threat and absolve themselves of any moral obligation
The only obligation I have is to my country
Keeping it safe for me and mine
Free of those who seek to bring with them the problems that plagued where they came from
Problems we have no obligation to solve
Problems that matter nothing to me
We got problems alright
Problems I can solve by simply consulting Smith & Wesson
If only I had enough bullets for them all
I guess I’ll have to settle for the 42 souls I’ve already sent to Lucifer

Synaia DeVaugn

Her Tears Tell Her Story

She’s cried her eyes dry so many times
Yet we continue to produce.
We glisten on her eyelids when she feels what this guy did
And tell her, she needs to leave

Because she has two swollen eyes and a countless amount of us.
She has 20 years she’s lived and scars that’ll last a lifetime
Because of one year with him.
Someone that she first thought was amazing.

And for her face to now be the color of the night time sky with no stars is crazy.
Now we’re begging her to leave, but still she’s staying.
He’s getting worse and he’s not changing.
He started behaving in a way she’d never seen.

And there were signs, but she just chose not to read
But be, illiterate.
But what’s between the lines start showing. Standing out like underlined, italicized
and bold print.
It’s windy in here now—she sees red flags blowing.

Now her eyes are swelled up.
But we managed to well up.
So that we could see what happen then report back all the damage we examined.
So it starts with a blurred view.

Then we say, “He hurt you.”
Then stream down her face to rest our case and let her see too.
We see through his lies of “I’m sorry.”
And look through the acts that he acted and love lines he practiced.

Then took some time to study him and thoroughly examine.
Then brought back a full report of what we found, the things she hadn’t.
And we glisten in her eyes like magic.
To see everything that happened.

Then tell all we saw.
And that’s why tears are transparent.

And now we’ve given her all the reasons she should leave.
Her eyes are swollen.
Arms are bruised up.
Nose is bloody.
Lip is busted.

He pushed her up against the wall.
He pushed her down a flight of stairs.
He pushed her down on to the floor.
He pushed her.

Tear stains everywhere
Tear stains everywhere.
Looked at her shirt for proof
Looked at her pillows too.

You need to leave
Now the question is, will you?

Soldier of Two Wars

Typical of America, I’m taken
Away from my mother
Away from my father
Away from my sisters and my brothers
Even further away from the only war I should be fighting
They’re turning us into them,
Invaders of land and culture
Thieves of equality and integrity
Back home people bearing my shade of black are stripped of their humanity
Babies crying, fathers dying, mothers left to carry the burning load on their backs
9,000 miles between me and where my help is needed most
Being here confuses my soul
The whites often show compassion through camaraderie, but it feels false
Feels like a patient hand on a trigger
Wandering through these jungle skyscrapers
All I can think about is how my enemies surround me
Suffocating me with anxiety and fear as if it were a noose
Yet my gun is aimed in one direction