The Art Of Storytelling Poem by James Lewis

The Art Of Storytelling



Facedown on the carpet I just knew that I would die, the red obscures my vision as the blood dripped in my eye,
I never saw it coming, tell me, how could I have slipped? But let me back it up a bit and tell you bout my trip.

My mother was the type who gave me food but fed me lies, the woman gave me life October 5th of '85,
while growing up I always knew that something was amiss, my 16th birthday's when I found out true lies do exist.

October 2K1 my goodness, it was such a time, I lived my life the 'seat of pants' way, out there runnin wild,
my b-day gift from Uncle Sal which I was blown away, a nickel plated 22 he called a 'throw away'.

Mom Dukes was straight addicted to a lithany of drugs, my father died absorbing quite a lithany of slugs,
I thirsted for the streets and no amount of love could quench, to now possess a firearm, it all now seemed a cinch.

I had some people over to the crib to celebrate, my little cuzzo Pop and plus my homies Rell and Nate,
we had the PS2 because that Madden game was heat, you know how things occur sometimes when you expect it least?

It seems that day my mother really snorted up some blow, she had assorted stains of snow which showed around her nose,
when Moms got high the sky could fall and she just wouldn't know, she also had a case of real loose lips because of coke.

Now everyone was chillin, plenty happy times for all, then Moms approached my Uncle Sal, the rising of my fall,
she then just spoke out loud enough for everyone to hear, 'Why don't you claim your son right now while everyone is here? !

The music stopped and pinheads dropped I'm thinkin who the F? Now cheery Sal with teary smile embraced me to his chest,
'I'm sorry it was done this way but yes there's sumthin true, I have 2 sons see Pop is 1, the other 1 is you'

I fainted, dropped my brew and don't know what I'm gonna do.......
To Be Continued......

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