Wednesday, October 7, 2009


Eyes 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' viloence
Grown up choices being made
by the time ya in 4th grade
By da 6th or 7th toting a weapon
And a few of yo 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 that loot clams it
Hate wearing shoes wit know name
Or ones ya embrassed 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 scarifice
Ta escape da mice roach being and dreadin' night cause there's no lights
That's the life of my peers da white floks 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 starit more like a figure 8 and a helluva game ta play
Didnt like da police
Ain't wanna help da sickly
Or defend guys like me
Wanted to cop cook cut weigh dope fa money that's tax free
Move rocks on da block around da clock cranking till da coners hot
Then it's 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 the month
But if ya yay is butter da bloulders blocked
like kiss that spot gon' rock
Afta a month non -stop and ya avoided da cops ya finally come on out
Carrying the 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 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 graduated 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 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


Tuesday, October 6, 2009

What does daddy mean to you?

What Does Daddy Mean To You?
By CaNon

“What does daddy mean to you,” is the question that I want all black fathers to ask themselves. As individuals we all have our own thoughts and opinions, but the emotion that guides us, Love, is the common factor that we all share. We also share the heartache from the violence that affect our children’s everyday activities. As serious as the problem is that they face, the solution is quite simple. Black fathers have got to exhibit the same sacrifice that the black mothers have done, and continue to do. We do not make enough sacrifices for our children, writer included. Relationships between men and women can function if both parties are willing to compromise. Now, let’s add parenting into the equation…you now have an extension of you that requires your guidance, rationale, sacrifice, love, and above all for you to be a good example of what a man is. Ain’t no doubt that’s a ton of responsibility thrown at you…and you still got your companion! From the looks of it, the majority of us black men shy away from ALL that responsibility. Those of us that aren’t in the house, did we leave because we tried like hell to make the relationship work and it was hopeless, or did we leave to try to alleviate some of the pressures that come with being a Man? Those of you that continue to bend within your relationship, so much that you begin to feel like a sucka, I commend you. That’s sacrifice! I’ve been in quite a few discussions about men and women staying together for the sake of the children. Myself, I really feel that whatever efforts we apply solely to our relationships must double when our offspring are involved. “You don’t have to be there to be a father,” is the most common response that I hear. That may be true, but it’s a cop out, and it’s also a statement that I hear way too often. We have been slacking so much as fathers that our women truly believe that. And the reason that they believe it is they’ve become accustomed to playing both roles. When the pipes are on the verge of bursting from the pressure, more times than not it’s the man that leaves. The women get over the men, the men get over the women, but the kids suffer. Our kids are in trouble and their plea for guidance cannot continue to be ignored. As responsible mature parents can we not put our personal bliss second to our kids best chance at success. Yes, I can still be a damn good father outside the house, but I can be an excellent dad in the house. Without an example to follow, little boy’s can’t be expected to emulate men when they grow older. Chances of promiscuity heighten when little girls grow to be young women, and have yet to experience the love and attention that fathers shower them with. The question that I ask black fathers to ask themselves was not asked to me. It was a statement that I made to a group that seemed bent on convincing me that I could be the same kind of father outside the home that I can be inside. Viewing the broken homes in our communities as a problem, I began to get upset at the nonchalant undertone they displayed. This bubbling anger, that continued to build from what I deemed as ignorance, prompted me to tell them, “For me, daddy is being there.”

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