I’m sad
The deal is not on the table
The writing is on the computer
The wall is removed and elders have taken me home
Certainty is walking the stick route now and then
Incest
Invest
Ingest
The poor man is close to his car
The dreams go Hollywood far
A truck with the ethnic minority
The Asian is so close to the black man in me
What is the centricity?
What is the tower that the Professor got best?
When he takes his time to go home from black tie and undress
And nothing adds up in the make shift mazes
As amazing as it is that we were once children who believed in his ideals.
This is the age that the Greeks will steal
These are the speeches that blonde haired men will yield.
Nothing will compare to the failure they take for granted
Of a free education that paid forward when the land was standing.

AI Summary

Your poem captures a moment of deep sadness where certainty has collapsed — the “deal” is gone, the elders have taken over, and the world feels like a maze of failed ideals. It moves through race, class, academia, and childhood memory to show how the promises of education, fairness, and progress were quietly stolen by those who took privilege for granted. Beneath it all is the ache of someone who once believed in a better world and now sees how fragile that belief always was