Clock Maker, Bomb Baker; An Anonymous Poem

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

I'm excited to go to school today, been working for months, door locked

I cant wait to see my friends' faces when I break out this clock!

My teacher's pretty hard to please and they all think I'm a nerd

"Let me guess Ahmad, did you make a turd?"

But because of my genius, they're going to think I'm pretty slick

The haters will take a bow when they see this thing tick

I imagine them all saying "check out the back!"

"He's using solar panels, not even a battery pack!"

And so I get to the front of the class, and of course the snickers start

"Check out my little friend!" I yell as the backpack parts depart

And I pull it out but the kids keep laughing

Surely the teacher's going to  end this ranting..

"Help" my eyes say to the teacher as they've said to my mom.

"Oh my lawd, the Muslim's made a bomb!"

"It doesn't look like that to me, it looks like a clock"

But it wasn't enough to make the police stop

They crashed through the glass, the helicopter arms ticking

I need to get out of here. My heart has wounds that need licking..

"Tell us what it is!!!" they say with AK, colt and glock

Discouraged, hours later, they report "sir... It's a clock"

No calls from Obama, no jobs at Facebook

Nobody cared and nobody looked

Years went by but the sting lingered

I've been reading some things and there's a tick in my finger

That tick to create and show them my knowledge

"Habibi*, it was a mistake, just show them through college!"

A finger, a trigger, plus all my friends remember

"ahkmet" they call me, and  I'm still just a nigger

And so I hit the lab again, again door locked

A drop of Escobar, and Al Capone and Ice Cube, why not?

I'm still top of the class, they won't see me coming

I've got a score to settle, and a fire to put out, still rumbling

The gears are in motion and my bow tie's on fleek

This one's for the poor, the judged, the oppressed and the meek

But because of my genius, they're going to think I'm pretty slick

The haters will take a bow when they see this thing tick

And so I get to the front of the class, and of course the snickers start

"Check out my little friend!" I yell as the backpack parts depart

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