Poetry 4 The Streets

Acerca de Poetry 4 The Streets

Step into the heart of the city with Poetry 4 The Streets, the podcast where spoken word meets social commentary. Each episode brings raw, powerful poetry that reflects urban life, community struggles, and the voices too often unheard. From thought-provoking verses to stories of resilience and hope, this is poetry that speaks truth to the streets. Whether you’re a poetry lover, a fan of hip-hop storytelling, or someone seeking insight into real-world issues through art, Poetry 4 The Streets gives voice to the culture, the grind, and the humanity that shapes our communities. Listen, feel

Silver Bracelets

silver bracelets lock afrikans killed returned 2 living hell as i walk thru the valley of death i can hear the laughter see the gossip being yelled from open windows ms. so-and-so’s son has fallen fallen from perfection, as they see it their cracker god gave me twenty-five-2-life each day is a blow 2 my soul each day, i forget the purpose of living this is where afrikan screams, yells can be heard as men jerk their dicks waiting for that reminder of loved ones young victims are made into bitches that suck dick and cry at the same time i hear their yells and shiver how many times can a man die? each day is a new death each midnight is when they pronounce me dead Jesus does not hang on my walls i killed him every time i needed someone 2 release my pain on i stabbed him in my mind ‘til jah could not take no more and pulled me away i see her face a loved one i will never see again her letters 2 me are kidnapped and molested by the prison guards by the time i touch them, they are not pure no more your love has died all that remains are words that curse me speak of my son who will never touch me who dies in my mind everyday his tears from his face have disappeared, i wonder why all i can do is cry as my cell mate’s bed squeaks and he moans like a billie holiday record i look 2 the ceiling and see my executioner i see the seconds stand there and smile i try 2 picture in my mind ways i could have changed them and hid them, change time death kicks my dream 2 the ground as the executioner places silver bracelets on my hand seconds laugh so now everyday becomes a struggle every morning i see the same walls i pray for the end of the world so i can escape my death people ask me, “do you feel any pain, any shame for killing him” i say, “you was not there when they trained me 2 be a killer, all you can see is my victim’s pain” society laughs, they blame their crimes on me 2 blame the cracker is a crime they blame me for tears formed in my eyes, they never fall when i hear my victim’s screams for some reason when i pulled the trigger it was meant 2 be i bathed in his blood and looked into his lover’s eyes and saw that i would be remembered more than him i became equal 2 Jah i became equal 2 Jesus i became the one thing his widow could touch her living dream i brought my pain and laid it at her lap when i killed him so now i walk thru living hell and fear no evil when i close my eyes, i see children crying in dark churches mothers dressed in black looking out windows for their loved ones 2 come home fathers at bars cursing my name i open my eyes and see saviors men who will never be forgotten i’m the one Malcolm never touched, Martin never saw, Jesus never had hope for am i a victim or a man who runs thru the street looking for someone 2 blame i don’t know each day becomes darker and darker until i can’t see but hear screams that get louder and louder i finally realize it’s me i’m only 19 19 years old serving twenty-five-2-life.

28 de jul de 2024 - 6 min