To be a ghetto child
Is a challenge few surmount
For many are they who
Succumb to the temptations in the ghettos
Making themselves bedfellows with
The police, or even the other gangs
My childhood makes me no exception
Just the other day I saw a child
Tears on her cheek screaming widely
For the police did all children a favour
Of knowing the sweetness of a teargas
A lesson like that is forgotten not
For the ogres who fart with canisters
Prepare you for the times a head
When you will meet them on the streets
Fighting for your godamn rights
Bargaining for a meaningful existence
In the ghettos I have seen it all
Fathers who sleep during the day
Mothers who are away at night
Murders treated as petty crimes
Yes, I have seen it all
I have seen things flying
Flying toilets, flying canisters
Fling bullets, flying swords
Flying arrows, Flying stones
Anything can fly in the ghettos
Now your talkin'. See my new post 04-25-09 SF Chronicle. Also 'BANG You're Dead.' Let me know what you think. You have written an authentic poem. Good job.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
thanks for going through the poem. let me see the great stuff you have yourselves! I think the poem needs some editing though.