this ain't the life we wanted
but mama got a warrrantshe's never clean, trying to survive by any meanswe sleep in traphouses with feensshe's been beaten and battered and to make matters worseshe's h.i.v. infected, still prostituting and forever leaving us neglectedshe can at least enroll us in school, why won't she cease her drug use?her and daddy remained in constant feudsshe sustained the mental pain and physical abusenow daddy's in the county and mama stay runningfrom the bountywe walk the streets with barely a change of clothesthis ain't the life we chosepillar to post, she's like a ghostgone for hours at a time, and here we are two young black maleswell on our way to a life of crimeTrue Story(Dedicated To Mohlyn Jr. And Ronnie)Keep Your Heads Up!!!
lloydboy35
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Mama Please
CATEGORY
just different
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COMMENTS
mrmelody7 says: Yeah keep the heads to the sky, cant say what if gotta go with the hand dealt to you |
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2b2b2 says: True to life depiction.....Great Write...of not great circumstances.....ONE |
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DallasCowgirl says: Profound write! |
OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY lloydboy35
Trick Monsterreality frowns at my nympho gowns enslavement to these pavements feels foreverfamily out law, because of this flawI'm severed immune system sick and swelling numerous victimsin which I'm never tellinga walking suicideIm just down for that ridei dont carewhoever said life was fair |
Operation Coketwo sons, both of which no custody street life, only thing touching me constant on the run, no conscience this foolishness and nonesense a convict with no accomplishments just a con artist with a retarded lifestyle, forty two and wild I can't afford my child socks the next rock is all that matters another negro on the stat ladder ongoing court cases children calling me on a first name basis preparing for an upcoming sentence no plans to diminish in this operation white here for the duration the demons still chuckle in the night |
Praying Legendher pride has muscular distrophy her faith history is labeled "legenda voice from heavenhands clasped and committedfrom these trials she's constantly acquitted |
Real Lifecovered with a can liner
standing in the rain
he awaits the train
headed for a soup kitchen meal
a smiling face
but the pain is concealed
the struggle is still real
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Hood Composition(Gangsta Rap)crime influence, I'm fluent elevate the incarceration ratesedate young minds, walk crooked linesconfigure it until it's blind, ignorantassignment is to see you in confinement soul purpose and aim product of environment, it is said to blameinsane, a worthless shameinvolved street fights, street lightsrevolved around late nights just the typelust and attraction to the hyperipe and raw, invincible without flawno principles, above the lawattain position, you just maintain and listencold composition have you at crossroads missinglive and foulthis lifestyle promoted foreverI wont sever, staying true and devotedkeeping your firearms loadedyour dream and passionthe effect of infractions, threats and distractions no conscience for actions previousrugged and deviousno time for patient money, sonny prescriptions ... |
Revive Hip Hopa crucifixion for these artists only convictions is their guiltyof garbage it's either tutorials or memorialsat the height of disfigurement the real hype of ignorance such an offense epitome of nonesense evera non variable, bars are terriblenothing's cleverthree in a million ratioturning my nose like stank smelling felatioenraged until this bull is disengagedI declare, I solemnly swearwear and tear to my ear drumsmore appreciative with a plate of crumbs |
That Bumpy Flavorthese bumps and ridges give me fridges it being the hook and I the baitthe attraction is greata pure satisfaction stateUSDA approved, I'm so weak and overruledI'm like a gator to these things called cratersoooh it's just my type and flavorI can't even begin to explain the behaviorIt's just not that simplethis beautiful bond I have with these dimpleshow crazed is this, and yes I saidthis thing called cellulite, I guess thisis a fetish |
Growing Olderarthritis and money diets this lumbar support and short patiencemy sexual stamina dyingsuch a toll on my role in my marital relationssteady crying about my occupationfeeling shame, these growing painsas if I'm in sedationcontinuing efforts to striveI wanna soar past the point atjust being aliveeven worse, havent any childrenthe marijuana smoke dispersedfrom the abandoned buildingon the staircasestill in hope for the limelight, jet flightsand a showcase lifemy growing pains, scars and stainsfrom my youthI'm growing older, after all these years I'm still chasing the loot |
It Must Be The Moneytraveling solo lately sending my dearest apology greatlyif you can hear it Godlife has been hardmy paper's starvedevery bit of short, its on life supportscreaming bulimic the scheme recycled into playmy dreams still seems rather in delayand mama, she still gather to prayso the truth is I've been enjoying this extra leisuremy patience been deploying multiple seizures on the work site invading the meet freezer I haven't been rightbut my wages are at a breathercreating an extra payrollso stone cold the conscience having lunches with the devilfire in my eyes, hotter than habanerosan endeavor to cut the tithesthis won't be foreverI keep believing my liesclientele is at a spurt, its been worth my whilethough grimey and fileif this is a test, I'm falling victim to trial |
The Color Blacka slimmer external the journal or black book the bank robber's dress code the nappy dread crook in grimy mode holding for ransom a mob of black panthers or maybe a positive anthem the jacket blazer and licorice flavor the firearm with the burst, the hurst the body bag and casket, nothing's immaculate the black flag and muslims the lovely black woman the beauty of black history moments the beauty of the black community when together in unity |