Black Poetry : where is the love ????

THA HOOKUPMAN

Well-Known Member
BANNED
Mar 4, 2004
334
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DETROIT
Occupation
FRRE THINKER
when i think
i think of thoughts
seldom taught
to the present generation,
i`m scratching my head
and pacing. :thinking:

wondering where we went wrong
was it the words in a song?
that turned sisas to hoes,
and the brothas to
who knows?

where is the love

we were once shown respect to project?
the black hands of support
now only choke each others necks.
what made our brothers
only want to murder each other?
call women biitches all day,
then go home and kiss mama

where is the love?

what made sisters
start calling each other heifers?
just because the next sister
had more than her or lesser.
that biiitch think she all that,
that broad know she fat,
what happened to just saying
girl, you beautiful and black?
and, did i miss a day in class
in the days that past
that said every sister
will show all her assss?

where is the love?

i guess when your mama said
a real woman leaves something
to the imagination,
sistas started to believe,
F that !!!
just make a brother wonder
if it was real or a weave.

maybe the love of herself
sits on a shelf,
next to the love and respect
for her man
can you help me understand?

where is the love?

yeah! i wonder what happened
to the days before rappin`
where brothers strived to do something
besides smoking weed and cappin`
when if a brother
saw somebodys mother
and helped her across the street
there was no chance of
red or blue clothes
being the reason he is dead
at her feet.

where is love that once ran
in the veins of the black man
that instead of "nigggga you aint go be shyittt!"
you`d hear "yeah brother, you can."
where are the memories
of brothers with father tendencies
who didn`t pretend to be
men
whose actions showed it
time and time
again

where is the love?

i remember when an
"i like you, do you like me?" note
carried the weight of a diamond ring,
now to let the next brother
tell it
i`m nothing if i dont
bling! bling!
now i`m less of a man
without a couple grand
in my hand
but for every dollar i get
there`s another brother
trying to steal my shyiiit
they said "god bless the child
that has his own!"
but it seems that
all brothers need, is a bag of weed
and a cellphone.

some baggy jeans, a doo-rag,
wife-beater, latest jersey or white tee,
and a corner to stand on
so they can talk trash
to a brother like me.
that tries to tell `em
all this jealosy and hate
amongst us needs to cease,
and that its not about
who has the most,
but the ones who
need the least.
where is the love?
where is the love?
where is the love?
where is the moafuckin love?

hookup :thinking: :thinking: :thinking: :thinking: :thinking:
 

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