Free Poetry Contest
Free Love Poems \
My jeans are hanging off my ass
I'm rolling with my ni---s
My doo-rag doubles as a mask
“Give up da cash or I’ll k--- ya!”
My girl’s fifteen and pregnant.
Her mom was a mother at twelve.
My pop’s doing life in the Slammer.
His dad was a convict as well.
My license’s clean, my record’s clear,
so I bought a Glock from the dealer.
“Come back in thirty days,” he said
“And you can have another.”
I’m called society's worst nightmare,
my m.o. is dysfunction.
This wouldn’t be such a sordid tale
if mom had injected that saline concoction.
Everyone’s pointing fingers.
There is violence all around;
From video games to Hip-Hop,
Grisly, Grime and Gore abound.
“Where are the parents?”…pristine pundits ponder.
“They are the reasons for this mess.”
Still... a serial social crisis festers.
Who knows where it will strike next?
James G Paul Sr
© By blogetry On 4/23/2007 1:35:54 PM
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