Just Swimmers

Little bros like to joan,
gym class they be laughing,
"look the skinny, smart, black kid,
looking like an African,
probably got tape worms,
cuz you can see the skeleton"

I'm laughing at them though
"how your hyperbole shows
the insignificance of their accomplishments,
no...not just that, your insight is into the childish,
as I verge on adulthood, you still laughing little children"

The object is to progress

- to become better swimmers

But he stands in the shallow end
and she ain't no deeper
so the convo remains superficial
they only see whats face to face
she tryna look cute, little dude still talking

* But this scene's a thing of sadness
when I'm learning to swim with you

I never thought myself better than dude,
his attitude is seen different
He recycles yesterdays lame; older than those cafeteria trays
or that bean turned chicken patty, the best thing on the menu
or those fry shaped objects, my friends fiend for
could cut the food and leave me
with time well time spent

-year near passed up; credits piling up

Black Jesus, is directing our swim team
How I know? He's casually late, faded with razor,
His disciples, those life guards, wearing street clothed attire
-They swim as they guide too:
Helping out them the first couple, and helping us too,

difference is-
We learn the lesson for more than the credit

I'm trying see beneath the window dressing,
often what is hidden is unpleasant,
so I guess I'd be digging then
I'm picking at a sculpture shaping it into infinity,
trying to uphold that challenge:
to be compassionate and more activist
about self, else, and global concerns

I heard the pursuit was fulfilling,
like climbing Maslow's triangle,
dreams made real,
with life and dream play in sync,

So I'm syncing the movements
the melody is thoughts of you,
first concern was getting comfortable
past that it's just swimming