'I will kill you like a snake',
'I will roast you like a chicken',
'I will fry you like a plantain',
So roll, roll, roll your boat when,
You have a killer gun in your pocket.
I was born in the ghetto with,
The status of poverty without a fish in my hand;
I was taught in the ghettto with,
Much tears than hope;
I was brought up in the ghetto without the Statue of Liberty to salute!
So roll your boat with the gun in your pocket;
But, who is there to cover up your actions?
I was taught in a mud-house without slippers on my feet!
And, that's the kind of society i cam from;
I had my education on the streets with,
Fights, hunger and starvation to crown the day! !
But, your killer gun in your pocket will give you up one day.
Taught by the streets,
Lived by the streets,
Learned by the streets,
Loved by the streets,
Hated by the streets,
And, many of us married by the streets;
The cluster of a phobia into my maturity,
That is why i do not respect the gun in your pocket today.
Stealing and looting! !
With plans to make the next move,
And, as a human-being who lives on 50 Cent a day.
Life in the ghetto,
With the status of poverty without a fish in my hand;
Life to me was just like the mountain of snakes,
So, just roll your boat with merry on your face.
Life's fair fountain that eluded me! !
With stealing and looting as the order of the day;
And of the plans to make it work.
I was just living on 50 Cent a day,
And, joy to me was like the roasting of a chicken;
Hope to me was like the killing of rabbits! !
Peace to me was like the frying of plantains;
And, of an excellent value for many of us when one dies,
But were still mulling to make a case like a courageous leader.
To live on 50 Cent a day in the ghetto! !
With the muse of the cluster of a phobia into my maturity;
Life in the ghetto,
Life on the run with the bullet train!
But at times, it was like the straw on a camel's back.
Life in the ghetto,
Like the golden cup whose shock aroused! !
When one equals to a temper of heroic hearts;
With the negatives to meet all day Long.
Life in the ghetto,
Like half-naked Young Lovers who called for help!
Life in the ghetto,
Like the peace of one's mind with questions to the moon;
But all along, i have managed to live on 50 Cent a day.
When we had nothing to eat but on we move to wrestle Life in the ghetto, hmmm
Eward great images if youth in a ghetto in a country with no hope. Great to see the protagonist reject the violence and embrace and learn from his expedience. Read it outloud to yourself and look for the pace of the rhythm you set with your words. Great Job loved the poem.
Verily, a great saga of suffering and a great effort to turn oneself from..
A compelling and courageous cry about the challenges of life in the ghetto. Well done my friend!
Heart-touching poem, dear Edward and we can learn so much from your experience and words, although not in the ghetto. TOP Marks for you and your poem
I have to 'pause' to have a meal. I plan to return, but it probably won't be till tomorrow; it's my wife's PC. Remind me? bri ;)
(cont.) I walked to a Harlem grocery store several blocks from our rental and didn't realize I was not supposed to gather food in my own shopping bag. A store detective stopped me and questioned me. Ha! ! : )
I've begun to read the poem. So, you are a Big Apple Boy (oops! I mean Man, man! !) ? My wife and I rented in Harlem for a few days during a NYC visit a few years back. (cont.)
Ain't there a rapper named 50 Cent? He ain't YOU, IS HE? ? A fish in one's hand? That sounds fishy to me. I looked at a few comments, below. Mine will come... ;)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a poignant and sad poem of a life one has to go through. It has produced such a deep impact on me. I wish you all the best in your powerful writing. Thanks for sharing.