"Superman"  Parental Advisory genre: Spoken Word
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	spoken word head trip
	CD: phoenix   Label: PATH productions Credits: Vocals recorded & mixed at As Sweet As It Sounds Studios, Track produced & postmidnight
	Story Behind the Song The track is just how i dissected my relationship with my father so i could begin to understand why we interacted as we did. The first few times I performed it I found it hard to read it without crying. I dedicate it to my father and to anyone whose ever had a dream they've dared to follow. Lyrics superman my father used to be my superman an earl “the goat” style hooper-man carving cold asphalt courts with blazing converse pablo picasso on a black top canvas painting portraits of “how you just got schooled – and 1, what?” no blood – no foul basketball dreams back when black power b-ball only came courtesy the harlem globetrotters out of necessity like pops peacefully passing sleeping hours snuggled next to round, orange & brown teddy bear named Spalding, catching boards instead of Zs see at six, you couldn’t tell me that comic books were fantasy when the baddest hero ever, next to, like, wolverine & batman, was genetically linked to me, telling me how he’d made his mark proving man was born to fly by going 1 on 1 with Kareem…. Kareem… before Lew Alcindor found Allah & put a foot in Bruce Lee’s chest, my dad dribbled with the divine, representing the playground’s best, toe to toe against the ABA to show who’s boss, & lost… but he was comp, though…& it was Kareem… it was my father, finding his way out on a scholarship, leaving behind a trail of broken backboards & forgotten freethrows – college was going to be the way until politics he wasn’t party to pushed him to pursue a B.A. instead of the N.B.A. – ‘cause the revolution wasn’t putting food on the table & it would be super fly to infiltrate the system, destroying it from the inside as it signs your pay stubs; slowly falling asleep on the job - you said you weren’t going to have me until affirmative action only reaffirmed that all men were created equal by appointing a black president – but you had me. accepting the idea that this was as good as it gets, sighing as you laid your ideals to rest next to the basketball mom replaced; working towards a promotion, telling yourself that “its easier to change things from the top,” having a hard time recalling exactly what needed changing in the first place; slowly falling asleep on the job – sepia-toned flashbacks of the saturday afternoon when I was 7, sitting with you, watching highlights of Dr. J, asking, “why aren’t you on tv, daddy?” noticing how your eyes hardened as you didn’t answer & never looked at me the same – I was now the baby of broken dreams – I had to become the you couldn’t to make things right – so now I only play ball with you when I really need to talk with you but I never really compete with you because I might win, but you need it more – to talk about over coffee before monday morning meetings at work, to feel alive again hoping I find freedom & success with my art, young Dali repainting realities with words, but praying that I don’t, because then, those foolish beliefs & ideals might not seem so foolish anymore… hiding behind responsibility to cover the fear that you might not have sold out, but you sold cheap & went fast to abandon the asphalt canvases you claimed as your own, the world you could have owned if you hadn’t given up – but you had me you said you weren’t going to have me until you changed this world – but you had me you vowed that you wouldn’t – but you had me baby of broken dreams & forgotten promises – you had me, I guess it was hard to love me. my father used to be my superman, an earl “the goat” style hooper-man, now he’s a suit & tie everyman with memories of change that didn’t jingle; cause its easier to fight the “man” when the only mouth you’re feeding is your own – breaking fiberglass backboards, breaking under glass ceilings – my father used to be my superman, & now my kryptonite dreams are killing him.

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