D.Greaves

Well Veresed. Never Rehearsed.

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    LOOKIN' THROUGH THE BACK DOOR

    I'm lookin' through the back door,

    carrying a load of C-4,

    fuse lit by an unknown source,

    I give much, the heathens want more,

    transmission to the spirits broken like an old Ford,

    Lord knows, I'm givin' all I can afford,

    ghosts creepin' like I'm on a battlefield at Valley Forge,

    the crossroads beckoned, did I take the wrong fork,

    love was new, but now it's forced,

    I wonder if them top 100 richest in Forbes,

    could take the punishment I've absorbed,

    said it once, I've said it before,

    I have a moral code to enforce,

    walking to the Light henceforth,

    add some rebar to my soul so it's reinforced,

    let the river take it's own course,

    drop me somewhere offshore,

    find a sacred place to restrore,

    the fire in the hole, when my soul was scorched

     

    I'm lookin' for a Map Quest,

    to find the souls of black folk beating in my breast,

    living in the Southwest,

    can be angel or demon at your request,

    dried blood on my family crest,

    spilled by a mother who was distressed,

    I saw them bruises when she dressed,

    still she walked proud at God's behest,

    hate I learned to detest,

    but it was hard to be good in a city compressed,

    standing still, on a chill, you can't even avoid arrest,

    I fit the description, let me take a guess,

    never tried to impress,

    never left a thought unexpressed,

    never wanted to be the best,

    Lord knows, I just want to survive the test,

    in an unban jungle with creatures sometimes grotesque,

    the demon I'm stugglin' to divest,

    in the light I'm strivin' to invest,

    but still my chest starts to congest,

    when I see God's people dispossessed,

    this Thesis, can't cease this, so I try to wrest,

    words and phrases you can ingest,

    give me a week for an inquest,

    so I can round up men who child molest,

    from the North, South and Midwest,

    I will make damn sure that they confess,

    then nail them to crosses on the Hillcrest

     

    I'm lookin' through the smokey haze,

    remembering 9/11 was one of them days,

    the Emergency Broadcast Test was a cliche,

    didn't stop the work of the depraved,

    some poeple were chillin' at buffets,

    some people it didn't even faze,

    some didn't know how to behave,

    I guess they never cried over an open grave,

    so many days I've walked in a daze,

    thinkin' about so many people crazed,

    do I want justice, or just blaze,

    appraise the new fruit rasied, or have memories of black berets,

    I gotta say that I'm amazed,

    the look in people's eyes is kinda glazed,

    my guess is they are trying various ways,

    to be warmed by the Son's rays,

    but you can't feel malaise, when you praise,

    can't be brave when your soul's enslaved,

    I probably wont survive this life unscathed,

    so my message to you my brothers and sisters is,

    STOP THE LOVE YOU SAVE,

    WILL BE YOUR OWN,

    and the beat goes,

    on and on and on and on,

    when will it stop so we can rest upon,

    REDEMPTION'S SONG

    • 6 September 2011
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    Thanks for stopping by and visiting my site. I hope you enjoy the poetic works shared here.Please feel free to leave a comment and subscribe. You can also find me on Facebook under Darwin Greaves. While there, stop by and like my fan page. Listed under D.Greaves the Poet.

    Contributed by Darwin Greaves

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  • About D.Greaves

    Thanks for stopping by and visiting my site. I hope you enjoy the poetic works shared here.Please feel free to leave a comment and subscribe. You can also find me on Facebook under Darwin Greaves. While there, stop by and like my fan page. Listed under D.Greaves the Poet.

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