Still Getting Right
Stuck on a block, where we get locked down....
Then I frown, because the smaller kids, get locked out...
With a doubt, that someone loves them, and they just kids now...
Then they grow into a man who just wines and pouts....
With no, understanding, no early planning, nobody there to tell them keep demanding a job...
Nobody wants to hire a real gun man, would you....
Bombs out my window....
But i dont have to worry, because inhaleing a black mama's placenta....
In a room, after grooving, to a couple tunes, like the Marley man, move do what you wana do....
An understanding for you may differ from you and me....
But understand that we have to agreee...
That this world is crazy....
And everything I see wrong should change me....
Something wrong with this poem?
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tevin.dickens
I am a black/Italian man who grew up in the Bronx but have a love for people and have a new on reasons of why art is so important in our daily lives. I feel that all forms of art is appreciated. My goal is to touch and help people who are going threw problems who needs another voice to remind them that they are human just like me and we relate on so many levels it may scare you.
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