I still have a shot
I could’ve been so many things
but I chose to be
me
for whatever reason.
I look at the history teacher
dressing-up in his continental robes
preparing to teach his students
about war
and how it is so wrong
how we hurt the Indians (or Native Americans, or Natives, or…)
it’s a war of words.
It doesn’t really matter what happens to me
as long as I can be
like Geronimo.
This life is a test
subject
to your interpretations.
You can’t be a king
if you don’t believe
the grade you give yourself.
I long for war
waged
against impossible odds
I now know
why men died for things
If you don’t have something to die for
you are dead
The enemy is never out there
it’s inside your head
I’m waiting for my enemy to scream, “Tomahawks!”
The Braves
were brave
look at what society has done to them
People think self-esteem can be built in society
but it will never get there
Look at the frat-boy tyrants, intimidated, by men with nothing
Our politicians never learn
that having approval
of the people, doesn’t make them great
taking credit for something great, doesn’t make them great
You have to prove that to yourself—
it’s a process of personal integrity
despite defeat, and the worst odds
It can’t be given to you, so stop asking for it
Do—whatever it might be
If you can’t do that,
you don’t actually want it
and the walls will echo,
with the silence of anonymity
where greatness is always born.