My Ghetto- The Urban Jungle

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
My vision of the ghetto growing up...

Submitted: November 10, 2011

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Submitted: November 10, 2011

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My Ghetto – Urban Jungle
 

A baron wasteland
Seemingly far away from the mainland
Another world
Is what you step in
Watch the broken bottles and glass
Needles and Syringes
From "trips" past
The lack of grass
To the playground equipment that’s
not there or working
Or the basketball rims
Bent
Or taken down – needs reworking
Swing seats ripped in half – rusted old chains
Kids playing tag
In the big field or around buildings
No trees exist here
Only branches and bushes – if you’re lucky
To play hide and seek

"Watch the cars" says mom
As you see all the older model cars
Enter and exit the parking lot
With their music playing loudly
Cars getting fixed
Amidst cigs and brew
Talking random shit
Drug dealers, gangbangers handling business
Trying to make ends meet
Drama – fights- people getting beat up
Shot up- Stabbed up
Hard times, people caught in that
continuous rut
Known as the struggle
Trying to get out
Visiting the candy lady, while I’m around
Walking back in
Up the stairway,
The smell of fermented piss
Cans and alcohol bottles spilled
Down the long and dark hallways
Of the dog days of winter and summer
Drunken men in their drunken slumber
Laid out on the tempered concrete
Druggies, addicts – on their daily plunder
For their daily fix
Hookers performing their duties
Pimps collecting their booty

Unlocking the door
Looking behind your shoulders
Making sure the fiends and thugs
Find you don’t slip up

Laying in the bed
Thinking on the next day that’s ahead
At the same time
Trying to phase out the gunshots
And escalated arguments that dominate the land
Waking up in the morning
Finding out someone you know or close to you
is dead
So everyday
Please try to clear your head
Because the ghetto is enough for a
person to go insane
Try to maintain
And until you get out, hope that you
can go through it again…

 


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