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CaNon Harper

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Member Since: Mar, 2008

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Eye's Of A Ghetto Child
by CaNon Harper
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Rated "R" by the Author.
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This poem derived from my adult views of my, and other kids, upbringing.


Eye’s wide open wit’ limited sight
Can see da plights that fa a kid ain’t right
Da home houses a parent that provides no guidance
Da streets and da hood is surrounded wit’ violence
Grown up choices being made
By the time ya in 4th grade
By da 6th or 7th ya toting a weapon
And a few of ya mans been slayed
Lifes so ugly that ya wanna vomit
But that’s fa kids wit weak stomach’
Ya too young ta know ya callin’
But old enough ta know loot calms it
Hate wearing shoes wit no name
Or ones ya embarrassed ta say
Which is crazy in da Ghetto we all livin’ da same way
Shame drives ya down a road lead by a man wit’ horns and a pitch fork
At the ends a door and once ya walk thru livin’ lifes’ a total joy
Of course there’s a price
Da ultimate cha life
But it you’ll sacrifice
Ta escape da mice da roach being and dreadin’ night cause there’s no lights
That’s the life of my peers dat white folks fear and cringe at cause its foul
That’s the life of my peers that I luv ta death cause I too am a Ghetto Child
I hopped in da car wit’ shame in ‘bout 8th grade so I guess I was ‘bout 12
Sick of bread and syrup clothes from K-mart and that house on a street called hell
My grades ain’t matter I could read spell and count so I knew which route I’d take
It was far from strait more like a figure 8 and a helluva game ta play
Didn’t like da police
Ain’t wanna help da sickly
Or defend guys like me
Wanted ta cop cook cut weigh dope fa money that’s tax free
Move rocks on da block around the clock cranking till da corners hot
Then its in a house called a spot doe locked moving it through a slot
Sleep is unheard of ya learn ta cat nap and that’ll be at the end of da month
But if ya yay is butter da boulders blocked like kiss that spot gon’ rock
Afta a month non-stop and ya avoided da cops ya finally come on out
Carrying da stench of a week old corpse but cha pockets can’t hold ya knots
Da content hit da mall and blow doh on clothes and shoes
Whereas da ambitious call da big man and wait fa him ta come thru
I feel da content but admire da ambitious cause I too want more than gear
But rather be content than stay stuck in da ghetto doin’ nothin’ and my eye’s shedin tears
When no longer pumpin’ rocks and up ta movin’ weight
You graduate to da next level and there’s even more at stake
Now seen as a lick ta those dat ain’t got shit
Da target ta rival crews whose business ya interfere wit’
Jealousy and envy dude you need ta be privy too
And da rats dat got knocked and plan ta get they break off you
Not ta mention da police
Low lifes workin’ da streets and precincts
Or what’s on da mind of a chick acting giddy afta a drink
Da minds always second guessin’
Years in da streets taught dat lesson
Is it real does she really dig me?
Or is she da bait so her mans can hit me
And when a cat wants ta re-up
Is it real or a set-up
And if so is it fa da yay
Or part of his deal wit’ da D.A.
Gotta ask these questions ta protect self
And effectively play da hand ya dealt
Money’s made life much betta and mo’ hectic
Receding hair line and grays in da beard reflect it
But thru it all I’ve matured and no longer wild
And smile
Still dat Ghetto Child


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