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Growing my dread locks in Trinidad Was for all the right reason But some didn’t understand They think I was a bad person I remember early one morning Going with friends to the river to bath And all of us had dread locks So people would look and be afraid People we knew all our lives Some we went to school with Now the look at us passing Like we are from another planet Being Rastafarian in this society The police harass us all the time’ To them you were guilty With out committing a crime It’s legal to buy cigarettes and alcohol Get cancer or drunk and fall down But when choose to grow our hair They point fingers saying we’re wrong A true Rasta follows the holy book Samson had seven locks of hair And see in the vow of a Nazareth Its there so very plain and clear We use to read the holy bible The bagwhat gita and noble Quran The only way to gain knowledge Is to read, discuss and understand my friends were kind and humble Don’t drink alcohol, don’t eat pork But people see them on the street They would go on the other side to walk We use to Smoked marijuana At night after the sun goes down Like two joints among six of us Rocking to some bob Marley songs The police had the right to abuse you And send many innocents Rastas to jail And the judge will ask for a lot of money So they can never get out on bail And for me being an Indian Rasta Some times it use to be hell Then we got tired of the harassment And a lot of us cut our dreads as well Bob Marley and I look the same All of my friends use to say And cutting my dreadlocks Is a mistake I regret up till today? I leave all my dread locks pictures In Trinidad when I came to the USA And many years after I went back They were destroyed or thrown away This is just a part of my life story A little history of my background Sometimes I want to keep on writing But if I don’t stop my poems will be to long
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