im sippin on moscato
stalkin like a black gato
feelin like apollo
at the end of a hallow
point blank
hearin my black radar
ping
and if that mockingbird dont sing
momma and daddy
aint gonna do a damn thing
god bless the child thats
got his own
im seein my young blood
tryin 2 remain stable
in a foster home
mismatched priorities
horror movie
gory
rated e for enemies
he sees
that dont exist
resist
arrest
cant hide the stigmata
burned in his chest
so he resides
in a place with no one 2 confide
no mentors
no peers
intellect in the stratosphere
body
pulled down
by the gravity
of a ghetto mentality
always thinkin he is gettin
played outta position
stress level
like the devil risen
brother in critical condition
at the hot spot
cop
an eight
cut
bag it
tag it
check the weight
fate
of a young brother
with blind ambition
i speak
he dont listen
on a suicide mission
to be young
gifted and black
gettin racked
for crack caps
carryin in his knapsack
a 45 cal
his favorite pal
sayin brotha dee
i aint goin back 2 juvee
next time momma see me
they be
preachin a homily
once upon a time he was
young and gifted
but a dream deferred in the ghetto
be a dream shoplifted
in the sands
of the sudan i sifted
i call out
shout
but i am 3 generations behind
he carries a pentagram
2 remind
of the sign
of the times
by the time i finish
this ghetto gospel rendition
my young boy be fightin for his life
in critical condition
i aint got the time
for azz and tits
howling at queens
like i eat only kibbles and bits
philly bein infested
by bloods and crips
jim jones poison
moisten
reluctant lips
i sail on a dead sea
take death tolls
bury my scroll
at nag hammadi
soon and very soon
we are goin to see the...
wait up didnt you hear
the king is dead
he was resurrected
but not protected
patriots thought he was a terrorist
and filled him with lead
layin in my bed
feelin the dread
of the weather warming
in west
north and south philly
cops will be swarming
this i surmise
my hands are tied
find solace in mya angelou
still i rise
settin up my young blood
with special forces precision
devil smiles
while
my youngin lies in critical condition
6 degrees of separation
police station
probation
emancipation
reclaimation
black nation
facin
a genocidal situation
preachers steady preachin
young cats got em on mute
for their survival
who will be libel
when they laid to rest
in black suits
the fruit
being smashed under
lack of expectation
kissin massa
azz faster
than back on the plantation
attenuation
not clear
dark clouds in the atmosphere
hurricane
of pain
comin the city not prepared
my young boy scared
cats will think he soft
point the gun
but he done
forgot to take the safety off
how long
we sing this song
same tempo
same damn rendition
while young brothers fight for life
in critical condition

All Poetry by D.Greaves/Darwin Greaves by D.Greaves-Darwin Greaves is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at dgreaves.posterous.com.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://dgreaves.posterous.com/pages/dgreaves-tos