Black Poetry : Tha Hill

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by cherryblossom, Apr 4, 2009.

  1. cherryblossom

    cherryblossom Banned MEMBER

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    Life on "The Hill" was hard and short
    The young women had fresh faces
    With eye-catchin' back-views
    On still new bodies but with old eyes
    The older ones caked over blemishes and scars
    Girdled-down bulge-lost wars
    And propped up whatever had lost its natural rise
    At night, they'd all be on the block
    From dusk 'til dawn, workin' by the clock

    The young men had swagga' and a cool pimp-strut
    Still fresh on The Hill, not yet caught in the dead-end rut
    They were the "new blood" on the scene--
    'Gonna show all these ole so-and-soes just how
    To wean that Green!'

    The old men were the "I still got it" veterans of the street
    Still dressed clean from head to toe:
    Rigid collars, razor-sharp creases
    And shiny Stacey Adams on their feet
    With a snapped-just-right brim cocked on the head
    & diamond rings twinkling on each hand
    They'd greet you with a wink
    And flash you a gold-toothed smile
    But, as they limped or shuffled by.........It just might take 'em a while.

    Oh, but for those on The Hill
    Night time was the right time!
    (Even tho' one gambling man
    Lost his life over a dime.)
    But, it was bright lights and high fun
    Just ride the wave!
    Every dog gets at least one good run!

    He or she was going home
    With somebody else's money
    You just had to have the right kinda honey
    To catch your fly
    Before the night went by...

    But, daylight was eerie quiet
    And all the ghosts of the night
    Seemed to linger....
    A child sent on an early morning errand to the corner store
    Could feel the sad and angry spirits as she passed each door
    Seeing the stumbling-home
    Or passed-out drunk last-to-leave
    Her small feet would bob and weave
    Steppin' over broken bottles
    Skippin' & skirtin' trash-scattered &
    Blood-stained sidewalks
    Smelling the bleached water splashed
    To erase the night's violent evidence
    With a quick shiver, she passed
    As the sense of death made her tremble and wince

    But, she hurried on to complete
    Her mother-directed task
    Knowing that THIS was the real Hill
    And what she saw from her bedroom window
    Was just reflections off muddy waters
    And the false face of its mask.
     
  2. Da Street So'ja

    Da Street So'ja Banned MEMBER

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    i know this story

    all to well

    the girl sees that this is not real

    and it's nice to see someone thrivin'

    in an environment meant to dislodge

    taking it back
     
  3. cherryblossom

    cherryblossom Banned MEMBER

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    Thank you, So'ja.

    That little girl was me. "The Hill" is the neighborhood I grew up in.

    Like Too Short said, "Talking bout the ghetto...funky funky ghetto
    Trying to survive, trying to stay alive.."
     
  4. watzinaname

    watzinaname Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    Poetess you gave us such a detailed, crisp picture of "The Hill", much can be told from the ashes left at sunsrise. Such a talent you are!
     
  5. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

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    you know i'm feelin ya here this like a page from my life growing up
    da hood was a hill a place of survival all was seen was a dusty misty maze

    U really took my mind back there !
     
  6. baller

    baller Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    such are the stories of life...

    ...the environments that shape us...and make us...into what God gave us when He made us...doesn't have to enslave us...or degrade us...they just help us to become us...the REAL us.

    NICE.
     
  7. cherryblossom

    cherryblossom Banned MEMBER

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    Thank you, Whatz, Rich, and Baller!


    And Baller, you're just fulla "keepers" today!
     
  8. cherryblossom

    cherryblossom Banned MEMBER

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