The Hood: No Place Like Home

CATEGORY

life

If I may, allow me to show you a place

where children never hear footsteps of father
where homes lack brick of love and mortar of hope
where families bury sons like farmers bury seeds
where young men have heart of lion but carry hunter’s fire

where death certificates come before diplomas
where pregnancy comes before the prom
where prison is our passage to manhood
where welfare is our declaration of dependence

where gangsta rappers get the glory of gods
where athletes earn the awe of angels
where gold teeth and tattoos are proof of power
where success is defined by 20-inch rims

where every beat boasts booty / bullets and bloodshed
where the Grammy goes to a song about a pimp’s hardships
where ignorance is exploited by a man named Maury
where stupidity grants access to a thing called Fame

where purity is a disease no girl wants to catch
where virgins are sacrificed to the gods of culture
where worship is reserved for American idols
where individuality is forsaken for We Are The World

where the lowest class boasts the highest crime
where public parks pack parolees and pushers
where homes harbor hustlers but no husbands
where life lacks love and lovers live in lack

where brains and brilliance are barred and buried
where schools sculpt scholars in scarce supply
where packs of pupils are packing pistols
where turf turns teens into territorial tyrants

where cops count caskets as kids keep killing
where gangs grip guns to gain guts and glory
where boys blaze blunts to block out the blues
where teens tote tales of tombstones and tears

where crack and crime are creed and craft
where heroin hinders heroines and heroes
where debt and death determine destinies
where abundant abortions abate ambitions

where hoods hold hostage hordes of humans
where streetlights strain to sustain the struggle
where blacks build bonds of bad blood and blues
where blocks be bleak with blemishes and blight

where men mourn memories of misery and moans
where words weave wails of weariness and woe
where pens paste pictures of pestilence and plight
and where poems paint portraits of poverty and pain

Copyright © 2014 by Curtis W. Trent