An African American man reflects on his life while starring into an unforgiving mirror. He sees all of his flaws and points them out. He decides to that making fun of himself being overweight will make others not pick on him. From a very young age he tries to understand why he is fat and why he isn’t being accepted by his peers or by himself. He enters middle school and tries to get his footing on where he fits in. Is it in band where everyone is a little strange or in football where a fat kid is a weapon? He wades through the mud and finds himself in a speech and debate class where he actually has a voice that can say something meaningful. As he gets his footing with who he is his body turns against him and the diabetes takes over. An unwanted guest that will never leave his body, but how does he accept and how does he move forward? By looking in the mirror and seeing the wonderful person he is looking at. By accepting his own reality and knowing that he can help himself but the first step is acceptance. *Actor should be an African American male. *This is one lengthy solo poem.

Walks In The Park

$40.00Price
  • Walks In The Park My kids and I take walks; it's a part of our weekly routine. We leave the house to free our minds from mom and the terrible world of television. The television has become just like Nazi soldiers, invading our personal space and taking over our thoughts, locking them into prisons that we can't escape from, and whether you believe it or not it's slowly killing your brain cells. So we inhale fresh air freeing our minds from the world and the old lady who stares at me every time I come to the park, she thinks I'm cute blowing kisses at me as she sips on her homemade lemonade that is probably too sweet for her but she continues to drink it. While my kids think she looks scary, sort of reminds us of a witch. Not the cute witch on tv but the original witch flying on a broom with a wart on her nose. And though she has no wart and no broom she is still slightly scary, so we ignore her and begin to walk. I have three beautiful firework shows that I call my kids. James, Jasmine, and Tyler. Each a different explosion of their own, lighting up my world in ways you couldn't imagine. Each spark is a different color, hue, emotion; each color a different symphony written in crayons and sidewalk chalk.

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