Quiet Poetry Lounge : A Childs Cry Through The Bedroom Door

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by ASHANTA, Sep 30, 2003.

  1. ASHANTA

    ASHANTA Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    A Childs Cry
    Through The Bedroom Door

    Dope dealers, prostitution,
    manipulation, thieving, and plotting.
    If I could only get to my grandma house.
    Mama trying to be a player,
    And I am sitting home without food to eat.
    Sniffing that white powder up her nose.
    Oh what have I done. I want my real daddy to come home.

    Looking through the windows, I sit upon the cage.
    Slavery upon my torso, the whip of a man in rage.
    Within the light I cried, as my mom screamed out loud.
    Oh dear lord, I felt the pain through my mothers womb.
    I live in a war zone of horror, I wear the scars of tomorrow.
    The battle with the leaders of my tomorrow.
    A death trap which I live within.
    Cursing screaming, fighting all day.
    The television burning, home work on delay.
    School teachers calling everyday.
    Welfare check two days late.



    Who fights for me.
    Mama crying blood a dripping, huddle in a fetal form.
    Guns are blasting. Smell of alcoholic beverage,
    Needles and white powder cocaine.
    Copal sergeants on patrol.
    Social worker dictates my future, who and where I shall live.
    The dungeon of hell.

    Child molestation, Whips are cracking, looking through a 8/11 cell.
    Who am I ? a frame without the picture inside.
    I continue to carry the scars
    Rise me my father that I may regain my strength
    “Without you lord”, I am nothing and my bones are tired
    I am worried and I can’t go on much longer,
    I stand with the torch, my spirit is no longer willing.
    My mother no longer cry for me,
    I walk alone through the dark,
    “Without you lord,” I could know longer carry the torch

    Through the legacy of thy ancestors, I the return
    Of a darken yesterday, I cry alone.
    The scars that carry the smell of rotten roots.
    A forgotten child.
    Life has become death in a forgotten tomb.

    The rain nurtures the Universe,
    The ocean speaks,
    Listen as it gives life
    the ocean, the rivers of the Niles,
    The liberty of nations,
    open doors for them to cross.

    I wonder upon the night, watching children with mothers and fathers,
    And some just mothers. My stomach cries starvation,
    My mother spends her money on the pipe.
    I have felt the pain of my mother, even as I was born.
    The disease that she carries, she gave it to me.

    Death to the unborn seed.
    Oh if I could only be blessed to have parents as others,
    No one really gives a dam.
    Born in a torture of hell.

    I walk alone treason by my family tree.
    They enslaved my ancestors, and I have became the prophecies
    Of a future doomed to hell.
    My roots are dead, my family tree hides behind the doors.
    Leaving me for the slave master retreat.

    Save me dear lord, no one fights for me.
    Out of sight out of mind.
    Take me dear lord I am already dead.
     
  2. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

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    u bringing it raw.....and real i love ya pen
     
  3. ShayShay

    ShayShay Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    WOW!
    this was deep!
    Very nice write

    Shay
     
  4. ASHANTA

    ASHANTA Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    Thank you
     
  5. triniti424

    triniti424 Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    chills...you did it again...blessings my sista
     
  6. ASHANTA

    ASHANTA Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    Blessings to you my sister in spirit.
     
  7. divine_1

    divine_1 Active Member MEMBER

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    sis! you wrote what so many see/feel/experience in thier lives and never can find words for. that was such a wonderful piece.... Thanks for sharing :)
     
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