Don't be fooled… don't believe the hype,

Everything loud ain't leading you right.

Everything trending ain't truth or light,

Some things go viral… but cost you your plight.

They said depression now touching one in five,

Nearly fifty million just trying to survive.

Young men breaking but still look alive,

Smiling in public while dying inside.

They said loneliness cuts deep like a knife,

Like smoking fifteen a day just to get through the strife.

And still we scroll, still we double-tap life—

Oh don't be fooled… don't believe the hype.

I've seen crowds gather, phones in the sky,

Watching a fall but just passing it by.

Recording the PAIN, no tear in the eye,

Turning a tragedy into a 'red sky'.

They'll post your struggle, replay your strife,

Call it "content," but it's somebody's life.

But where were they when you needed advice?

Don't be fooled… that ain't love—that's a vice.

I met a cab driver, he asked me my route,

I told him my dreams, he said, "Let me be blunt—

You moving too fast, but you don't have a clue,

Wrong direction still feels like it's 'Blue Chew'".

He said, "Son, you riding—but drifting inside,

Chasing applause while abandoning pride.

Purpose don't live where confusion reside—

And hype don't care if your spirit would survive."

Don't be fooled… don't believe the hype,

Every open door ain't meant for your life.

Every fast lane ain't the road that's right,

Some paths look smooth… but they dark as the night.

I saw baggage handlers tossing out dreams,

Dropping callings like they nothing but things.

We checked in our purpose to travel with ease,

Now standing like, "Lord… what happened to me, please?"

You gave it away just to fit with a crowd,

Lost your identity chasing what's loud.

Now you searching for truth but can't find a plow—

Don't be fooled… Pay Attention Inside Now.

Some of us running with no oil inside,

Grinding and pushing but losing the drive.

Cutting the grass but the blade barely alive.

You need more than motion, you need to be filled,

More than ambition—you need to be healed.

Because hype won't sustain what pressure will build—

And silence will break what noise tries to shield.

Late at night… something just ain't right,

Voices in your head keep picking a fight.

Fear in your chest though you winning in sight,

Mind playing tricks… but you calling it right.

You got money, respect, got status and name,

But peace ain't something the world can frame.

So you pace in the dark, fighting shadows and pain,

Smiling outside… but inside insane.

Don't be fooled… don't believe the hype,

Success ain't peace and fame ain't life.

You can have everything and still lose the fight,

If your soul ain't anchored in truth and light.

They said men don't cry, just carry the load,

So we bury our pain and walk the road.

But pressure builds where nothing is told,

And silent stories eventually explode.

Isolation whispers, "Handle it alone,"

But loneliness turns a house to a tomb.

Even surrounded—you still in a room

Where nobody knows what you're going through.

And fools will clap while you losing your way,

Call chaos a crown and darkness okay.

They'll hype your fall like it's something to praise,

Then vanish like smoke when truth starts to raise.

They'll say, "You good, keep doing your thing,"

While chains on your soul keep tightening.

But wisdom don't shout—it quietly sings:

"Everything glittering ain't a king."

So check your direction, examine your crew,

Everybody clapping ain't rooting for you.

Some love your fall more than seeing you through—

So guard your spirit, stay grounded in truth.

Don't be fooled… don't believe the hype,

Test every voice, every move, every light.

Because what feels good may cost you your life—

And what looks right… may not be right.

But hope still whispers, steady and low,

Not in the hype, not in the show.

It says, "Be still… you already know—

Truth don't shout… it will quietly grow."

It says, "You don't need hype to become whole,

What's real will anchor and steady your soul.

Don't trade your purpose for temporary control—

Because truth is the only thing built to hold."

— Maurice L. Calhoun

She does not always stand in pulpits.

She does not always raise her voice.

Yet every step she takes through sorrow

is still a holy choice.

For history has watched her walk

through centuries of pain,

through nights of bitter weeping

and mornings washed with rain.

Joy and pain, sunshine and rain—

that rhythm still remains.

She preached it in the cotton fields

when freedom seemed too far.

She preached it through the Jim Crow years

beneath oppression's scar.

She preached it in the marches

when courage filled the street.

She preached it at the kitchen table

with tired, faithful feet.

Her sermon was not written

in books the scholars read.

Her sermon lived in children

she clothed and clothed and fed.

She preached it when she whispered,

"Child, keep your head up high."

She preached it when she prayed for sons

who walked where danger lie.

She preached it in the waiting rooms

where quiet mothers pray.

She preached it in the strength it took

to face another day.

Joy and pain, sunshine and rain—

still echo through her refrain.

And though the world may never call

her name in halls of fame,

History still remembers

the power in her flame.

For kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall,

great empires fade away—

But the faith of the Negro Mother

still shapes the world today.

And every child who climbs beyond

the mountains she has known

Becomes the living sermon

her silent life has shown.

Joy and pain, sunshine and rain—

her lesson still remains:

That love can outlast hatred,

and hope can conquer pain.

— Maurice L. Calhoun