Poem on Rebellious Streak: Baby Cake, Young Float

What’s Behind My Poem

Once I heard some old folks telling me, “Young people’s life experience is still on baby level. But they hold onto their rebellious streaks as if they know everything, as if they’re not babies. The more we (older ones) tell them what to do, the more rebellious they become”. It got me thinking, why can I not just make a social commentary on this?

Baby Cake, Young Float

A Social Commentary Poem

A drumming sound, an upbeat tempo

Bringing me fasten the flow

Asking a mind to swing no slow

Free my thinking, physical go

 

Map now has no follow

I call the wind for trumpet blow

Doesn’t refuse to break down the load

but legs never instantly float

 

So, I run further

to leave out my mother

and fire up my father

with bottles of anger

 

I run further

to park myself in sharpening sun

to be naturally fried

in a thickness of a thing

they think it’s just as big as no

 

Yo, this is the baby baby cake

Being cooked, being grilled, being heated or being burned

And this is a young young float

Being lost in adventure

Being drilled in between

temptation, contrition, celebration