First Funeral, 2013

Forever young

never to be a grand father

early in your day

the work of you is done

you were like the heat

that never found the sun

the shine resting in

the diamond the tune up

before the song and now

you too soon gone

its impossible to say goodbye

to so few yesterdays hard to

accept the no tomorrows are

you walking with your homies

still confused and dazed

too few yesterdays no tomorrows

eating sorrow waiting for

the next one to fall trapped

in the futility of it all

strapped and targeted

shot down by shooters who

look like you love like you

bleed like you die like you

strapped and targeted too few

yesterdays and no tomorrows

brutal meter and deadly lyric

spit with venom is all that’s

left pictures of a young you

no grand father you no

tomorrow you lost in war

on ghetto streets strapped

targeted easier to get guns than

bread plenty bullets few examples of

surviving without scars

everybody bleeding blood on

your hands but guns are

easiser than bread they outnumber

compassionate alternatives

they inspire the means to the

unnecessary ends

survive by any means

live by them

die by them where are

the other means no grandfather

you jail time no diploma

living on the run

change your name but not

your destiny or the ticket

that was in your pocket when

you were born rest solider

its over go sweet child and

come again maybe the world

will be better then

go and come again maybe into

a world that raises men

to be grandfathersImage

About Ayodele Nzinga, MFA, PhD

I create; therefore I am.
Image | This entry was posted in Black Arts, Life., North American African Perspective, Poetry, spokenword and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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