Black Poetry : I SPY WITH MY LITTLE EYE

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by garlicsalt99, Apr 9, 2007.

  1. garlicsalt99

    garlicsalt99 Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    I SPY WITH MY LITTLE EYE

    I spy with my little eye
    The fan fare as the hustlers and the ballers roll by
    The pride of the ghetto from a struggler’s point of view
    Lifestyles to which the young and impressionable aspire to
    Wit broken home lives and dysfunctional families
    Constant chaos and compounded calamities
    Young starving eyes … glare and stare
    Sayin’ to themselves “I wanna’ be like that nįğğa’ right there”
    The bling, the cars … signs of good gain
    Ballers and hustlers are at the top of the hood chain
    With lives that read like a ghetto thesis
    Shot calling, masterfully moving people around like chess pieces
    At the top of their game … their common caper -
    Is the common language of ‘makin' that paper’
    Differentiated from the young and dumb that starts şħįţ and talks head
    Wiser and experienced, their conversation is about breakin' bread

    I spy with my little eye
    The tears that roll down the cheeks of little boys who cry
    Because they're embarrassed and put down before others
    Self esteem shattered while being emasculated by their mothers
    Tethered to their moms, they follow like golf caddy's
    And all they hear is “**** mùţħąfùčķą', you' just like yo' dąmņ daddy”
    “Don't know şħįţ, can't do şħįţ!”
    “When you grow up, you ain't gon' be şħįţ!”
    They grow up with this constant verbal scrimmage
    With no clear view of a positive male image
    But there will come a time when they stop releasing frustration through tears
    And the frustration starts to build within, for years and years
    Their dysfunction is manifested as delinquent behavior
    And it soon becomes apparent that they need a savior
    They either start gang bangin', hustlin' or pimpin' one day
    Or, because they’ve heard men talked about so badly by their mothers, they turn out to be gay

    I spy with my little eye
    The grief on faces when the homies die
    Reflecting on their current state of sorrow
    With the reality that no man is promised tomorrow
    The devil lived up to his mission, he took a life and destroyed it
    Come to find out, the homie died over something that could have been avoided
    And while reflecting on what should've been done or what could have been
    Faces are stuck in the mournful states that they've in
    Hangin' with the wrong crowd … yeah, we've all heard that song
    Perhaps the homie was on the block a little too long
    Or maybe the homie was well within borders
    But didn't see the enemies as they came and carried out orders
    The question always arises, when will the killing stop
    When will we increase the peace; when will the body count drop
    When will I stop going into the donut shop
    And seeing somebody's picture taped to a tip jar on the counter top

    I spy with my little eye
    The smokers and the other destitute people as their eyes pry
    Trying to figure out how and when they can get into some şħįţ
    That when it's all said and done, they can go take a hit
    Amazingly trifling and confusingly complex
    There's only one real basis of a smokers context
    Takin' that ‘white flight’ … that ‘crys’ … that ‘ex’
    Anything that make's 'em feel good … drama, drugs, alcohol and sex
    Trying to chase the same high when they were virgin to their drug of choice
    Never again to attain that feeling, but they keep listening to that voice -
    That keeps 'em running in a viscious cycle with no reason or rhyme
    Living for the ‘full pull’ … staying up for days at a time
    They bare their souls to a willing audience … some they will begrudge
    But really what they're looking for is someone who won't judge -
    Their deeds and their actions … the things which they see as essential
    Which functioning people see as the bottom of the hood chain … wasted potential

    Written by: K. Charles
    © 2007
     
  2. Tantrum

    Tantrum Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    They grow up with this constant verbal scrimmage
    With no clear view of a positive male image
    But there will come a time when they stop releasing frustration through tears
    And the frustration starts to build within, for years and years
    ^^^
    my favorite part

    that is a powerful piece poet
    the depth of your pen was great
    if anything people should read this and wake up
    8/10
     
  3. garlicsalt99

    garlicsalt99 Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    I agree :) How long do you think it will be before the laguage filters catch this piece (lol) But for real though, people really need to pay attention to whats going on, because this stuff is for real.
     
  4. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

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    man u said a mouth full , so many seem sleep to reality and what's
    going on around them these days.............deep drop to da mental
     
  5. garlicsalt99

    garlicsalt99 Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    As they used to say in the 80's ... word.
     
  6. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

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    like da new age .......str8 up !
     
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