Black Poetry : Is it too late?

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by Anwar Aswad Ami, Mar 17, 2004.

  1. Anwar Aswad Ami

    Anwar Aswad Ami Active Member MEMBER

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    Is it too late?

    Can I escape now? People are on my tail
    Along with schizophrenic-attitudes
    It's up to me to choose
    I've got so much to lose
    With this "cocaine" in my brain
    I've got nothing but the blues
    I'm going insane
    Who, can I blame?
    Neglecting myself
    Neglecting my children
    Is it too late?
    Or can I escape?

    I got this insane thing
    RUNNIN' round in my brain
    I've got bad thoughts I never had before
    Every day I get them more and more
    It's got to be the cocaine it's driving me insane
    I must throw away the pipe
    And get into another lane.

    Crack is wack
    It doesn't matter if you are white or Black.
    Our fates the same if we are out here on crack
    Whats my mother Gonna do?
    When she get the call. I'm D.O.A

    My Mother's child is in a misplaced land
    No Whiteman and very few blacks can understand.
    The pain and suffering of the Afrikan
    Stolen from a distant land
    One way tickets, no round trips
    Made to feel inferior
    Made to feel ashamed
    Made to live with:
    Double standards
    Double laws
    Double jeopardy
    Double punishment
    With Police bullets and hanging's in their jails
    Then dying and going to hell.

    Crack is making me wack.
    I will no longer have a "dream"
    I will lose my self-esteem
    I will steal from my mother
    I will rob and kill my brother
    I will abuse and kill the children
    I must escape the pipe
    I must stop this free basin'
    And walking the streets like I'm crazy
    I must be insane
    Doing all most anything for crack cocaine
    There is no love from the things above

    I must love and respect myself
    I must start the respect for myself
    If "I" don't start it? How can you relate?
    I must be the one to change my fate
    I hope’s it’s not too late
    My mother weep at my mistakes
    I use to be debatante and cute.
    Now all strung out a prosititue
    I use to teach school and wear a business suit
    Now I'm all strung out on crack now I'm destitute
    Who is she gonna tell her troubles too
    I'm asking you! Mr. Preacher man!
    Every Sunday my mother comes to your Chruch.
    You take her money and she's left in a lurch

    If someone can please understand?
    The heartaches and pain of
    A black mis-educated Afrikan
    Inner this misplaced land.
    He's on my trail "The pusher man."
    His plan or God’s plan?
    I must make the right decision
    If I want out of this valley of divison
    I must escape
    Or is it too late?
    To turn back. . . now?

    Copyright 1995 Anwar Aswad Amir


    "They are killing each other and going insane
    the Afrikans are dying in the bloody rain
    So stop selling crack
    cause the crack is so wack
    Stop selling crack
    cause the crack is so wack
    Crack is the thing thats holding you back
    Crack is also the sound
    Of the whip on your back.
    They got cocaine. . . runnnin around in their brains.

    From the Song "Bloody Rain" written by anwar aswad amir
     
  2. Bluewater

    Bluewater Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    It is not to late
    powerful flow
    feeling the strenght
    from within
    holding on to you
    much love'
    flow on
    very strong
    Peace
    BlueWater:heart:
     
  3. baller

    baller Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    it's not to late...

    if you can ask the question...envision the answer...even think the thought. you have only to make the step...take the plunge...away from the one who would slap the shackles on your feet.

    you have sent the message well.

    THANK YOU.
     
  4. MzBlkAngel

    MzBlkAngel Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    somewhere ova da rainbow....
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    it is never to late....
    tight drop
    flow on....
    Peace
    Angel
     
  5. Khasm13

    Khasm13 STAFF STAFF

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    it's neva too late...but i know whatcha sayin
    this was a profound piece...
    get massa whip off ya back....word
    one love
    khasm
     
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