Listen

Have you ever had the feeling that flaws show up everywhere

In sketches that make others wonder why the drawing was of a photo and not your own design?

Cared too much about a drawing not from out of your head, that still takes up paper and charcoal when you sit down to work

Is she innocent, just playing along while still vulnerable, a victim of corruption, or just a thug with a burning love for her man?

Of course I don't copy other drawings, I think up poses and attitude captured in stony facial expressions

I borrow ideas and inspiration from cartoonists, and still I leave their work untouched

Drawing a little known cartoon female can be frustrating, when no one knows who the drawing's of, why that pose and face and nose---what exactly is her name again?

In my mind, she's this gangster lady who's hopelessly in love with a violent man who's not too sane, yet they are lovers all the same

She wants to be good but has played the part of the villain for so long, her vision of right and wrong has blurred like smeared ink

She's not my drawing, and if it didn't come out of my own tired head, how could I brand it my art?




I steal from cameras, taking in images from magazines of the women in my life who speak to me through raps

I'm inspired by the women I listen to, all real and alive

When I draw what a photo depicts, could I make that my own?



My art teacher tells me I have to connect my drawing to the other students'

He demonstarates how my drawing doesn't play well with others

Treats my artwork like a schoolyard bully, criticizing its selfishness, yet remprimanding me

Says I have to tape out large sections of my drawing---obliterating pen marks I'd made and felt proud of


I leave the class, wondering what art really is

My own design gets taped like a crime scene

I lose cred fast if it's not from my brain

I am defeated by pen and ink

I will pick my old allies up back up, and jump back into the battle soon enough