Poem - 04 January 2021, 00:17

"BEHIND PRISON BARS"

(25 to Life Behind Prison Bars)

“BEHIND PRISON BARS”

The spirit of my hustla's soul yells out mad as hell, locked in this cold cell, dressed in prison wear. Icy-glazed stare showing no fear; hardened grill froze with the Real Thug Pose, doin' time for managing hoes, keys sold. I am what I am, another Black Man, a statistic doin' 25 to Life in the can from a broken hustlin' plan. Yo’ son, the street life was so sweet, mad paper building from week to week, pushing drugs, pimping freaks before it all ended, lifestyle suspended. One dude broke the rules, I got knocked when I was playin' pool, gun tool to my head, one false move I'm dead, my rights being read. Knocked, 'cause a brotha snitched and told the feds. Should've made him bleed red, but instead I gave him a break and let him go. Now I'm being handcuffed out the ghetto…

(Pause) . . . Flashback to 4 kids in a sack. We was too poor to eat off Mama's faith. Father we hate. Took a chance on an early wake for the cake. I couldn't live life to the minimal; that's why I turned into a criminal. So, I paid da cost to be da boss, had the projects and block on lock with hoes hoe'n, dough's flowin' non-stop. Gucci painted Benz, drop top. Extra cake got from my hot club brothel spot. Twenty-four hour clock, glock cocked with 1 in the chamber…

(Pause) . . . Throwback to the remainder of how I flipt the script from a PJ's misfortune to a Ghetto Fortune 500 millionaire 'bout to exchange my pimp wear for Riker's gear. But don't knock da hustle, street game hustle, you gotta take the bitter with the sweet. Did I question “The Word” the preacher preached? Da game's made for the Strong, not the weak. Yo, son, it's a cold cold world living in darkness. Everyday I wake up to fight this. Do I regret being unrighteous, ignoring The Lightl It was my right, choosing this gangsta temptation. Now, here's the revelation...

(Pause) . . . Taking a thought visitation, staring at these prison walls I'm facing. For my seeds, I'd end the money chasing, change my situation, stop being a devil's creation to start a Christ relation. My divided soul's torn, born the son of a poor righteous mutha' straight from the gutta. Yo, all this grimy brotha ever wanted to do was be a Paid N’ Full ghetto superstar pushing exotic cars. I chose to be Thug Hard, played the hustla's card, street dreams only took me so far. Now I'm doing 25 to Life behind prison bars…

(Pause) . . . Throwback to when my life was a Curtis Mayfield soundtrack, "Superfly", dough stacked, free & paid with the blue print laid. Back in the day, I was makin' mad bread as the Head, running organized crime in my prime. Then fatherhood started sinkin', mentally thinkin', one last hit, go legit, but who would've known we would've blown 50 million from my dealin' with a childhood friend who dimed, confessed the crime. Now, I'm doin' time 'cause that brotha Rick snitched, could've been filthy rich instead of a convict. But don't shed no tears. I had my years, Big Bossin' Flossin', Money Tossin' like I was a Rockefeller dashing thru the city with a N.Y. State of Mind, in the grind. Pushin' on the gas...

Flash! Picture on the cover of the magazine Felon, tellin' my story how I grew up a juvenile delinquent, frequent, gave Mama stress, first got arrested when my manhood was tested. I was brought up fatherless in violence, heard my first whistle blow, murdered dude in silence. I barely escaped an early wake, fled the scene, heavy breathin' heart beatin', jeans full of cream. Cash Rules Everything Around Me, chasin' that dollar bill, brothas getting killed 'cause it's real in the field. The Street Life kept calling. I wanted to be Big Time ballin' like those stunnas from New Orleans. Yo, I'm telling the truth. I was an impressionable youth, just a Ghetto Boy, when my mind started playin' tricks on me, thinkin' about my dead homie…

(Pause) . . . Flash forward to the present with this book I hold. God saved this soul, broke the devil's hold. No more contradiction, soul division…

(Pause) . . . Reflecting, dissecting my life: drugs, money, murder & mayhem, killing our people like the Son of Sam, just for the cause with every pause. I had sleepless nights, ignored The Light. Caught up, I fell into the hands of the Unrighteous. Now, I've been re-enlightened by the Righteous…

Was this all -worth it? For my Moms to die with pain and hurt, for me to go from bad to worse, to break a generational curse, to be Spiritually Rebirthed. Heedin' to the scriptures of this book that comes first: the Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth. Now, I finally see The Light, doin' 25 to Life behind prison bars.