Troubled Streets Poem by Mustafa Marconi

176th and Davidson
Mismatched Jordans on oversized feet
Don’t have a penny to my name
Slowly cruising troubled streets
A familiar face on 172nd
Scrambling feverishly and impatiently
Larceny and violence in heart and mind
A lifetime ahead and still no time
On 170th stands Leslie Williams
Led astray by a wayward parade
Desires the nightlife and uppity crowds
Refusing the guidance, the spiritual aid
Little Jimmy on 167th
Was always to cool for the disciplines of school
His daddy assassinated by racial turbulence
His mother tested daily for strength and endurance
Up the block lives poor old Harry
On the corner of 158th
Struggling and fighting on his fixed and unmerciful income
Harry can’t recall the last decent meal he ate
The Boroughs limits, waters ahead
Stopping to ponder what I've seen
Are we meant to live so inadequately?
Is equality just a faraway dream?
Not just a couple of unfortunate cases
Not as if these stories are unrelated
If he shares the spoils or throw us his crumb
Then unemployment and inflation are escalated
No wins, no ties, only losses
People must die for leaders to smiles
With all the complication that accompanies life
Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile
Walking down Third Avenue
Cruising cautiously troubled streets
The ballparks are filled with the unemployed
With expensive sneakers on their feet