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Best Poems Written by Marlon Weaver

Below are the all-time best Marlon Weaver poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Marlon Weaver Poem

From Cover To Cover

From being forced to cross the Atlantic Ocean under the cover of stars
to volunteering for a mission above every ocean to the stars.

From being stared at on an auction block and having the family sold and separated
to ten years running, in the most watched block, as a priceless model of the family unit.

From working for peanuts and fertilizing somebody's land with the blood that runs off of
the back
to owning the land, working the peanut, and transfusing the blood back.

From being robbed of a spoken language, losing a religion, a culture, a god
to influencing: the language spoken in cultures, songs in religion, and the pathway to God.

From losing a hand and a foot or a leg for not being fast enough to get far enough away
from “the man”
to using the hands, legs and the feet in running farther and faster than the average man.

From the king, of a nation, beaten into a personal slave and called names like coon,
spook, and “Boy”
to a boy named King who would grow up to “win over” a nation for the equal freedoms of
every person.

From generations that had to take the last names of past presidents
to being the name that can give a future generation its first president.

Details | Marlon Weaver Poem

The Model

I'm going through some changes at this time.

I'm human, poetry in motion and I find

that my verses don't even rhyme.

I ask so many questions of myself.

Is this reality? Can I wish on another shooting star;

maybe this time it will shine on someone else.

If I walk in or stumble through the door, 

If I fall down and end up on the floor, 

or if I wake up as make up on the face of Madonna or Demi Moore;

I am a model, does anyone care about the real me anymore?

Am I alive or am I a victim of myself.

I wear my high heels on the inside of my feet and 

my skeleton is on the outside of my skin.

You can see me looking out at you,

but is there ever anybody  looking in.

My life was a new album and every song has already been overplayed.

I used to feel like an ocean and now I am like

a lake bed whose waters have all been washed away.

If I walk in or stumble through the door, 

If I fall down and end up on the floor,

or if I wake up as make up on the face of Madonna or Demi Moore;

I am a model, does anyone care about the real me anymore?

Am I alive or am I a victim of myself?

Details | Marlon Weaver Poem

A Rose Or a Rifle

Don't get it twisted just because my smile is nice

I signed up for the war not once but twice

When I went to Iraq I dodged death and it's stunts

but when I got home I smoked blunts and stayed drunk.

Now I can't sleep and I'm messed up in the head

I wake up having nightmares and I keep pissing the bed.

I talk in my sleep and I walk in my sleep

instead of counting the sheep I think of killing the sheep.

People tap me on the shoulder, I think I'm being attacked

So I a ball up my fist because I don't know how else to react.

I get really depressed, I never used to be this way

It's a struggle for a brotha to live day by day

Don't say you love me because you think you know me

if you got love for the troops then you better show me

I am 33 and I at least want to see 35

I don't want to be popping pills for the rest of my life.

I want to win in this game of survival

Will I live for the rose or will I die by the rifle.

Details | Marlon Weaver Poem

Something To Think About 2007

I'm tired of the bullets and bombs

and kids losing their dads and their moms

because of the beef and grief between Bush, Osama, and Sadaam,

One dude got left hanging and the other two are still banging

over a situation that hasn't been changing since the beginning.

Little children walking  with open toes and bare feet

instead women wearing a robe and a veil, their branding a piece

over the price of the grease, we can't have peace in the Middle East

We send our men and women to die, keep the cost of gas high and the price of 
life cheap.

The desert is a sandbox of traps and is like kitty litter to cats

the dirty stuff gets buried and swept beneath the mats.

Are these the facts or is it all an act 

to keep the dudes in suits fat and poor people taxed.

Whatever the case is, it all needs to stop

before somebody gets clumsy and let's the big bomb drop

I hope to goodness that day never approaches

because if it does then we'll all just end up as

food for the roaches.