Street Life

Poet: Ken Jordan Story: Street Life written: July/2014     Child, I have seen many nights turn to dawn, out in the streets. I was you once,  left home thinking that I could take care of myself at eighteen.             My parents told me what to expect from my decision to walk away from the one's who loved me.                     Whatever they said, didn't matter, because I was mentally gone, (lost) and rushing to get out there in the unforgiving  cesspool of street life.           One thing is clear,  once out there, I learned very quickly what my parents tried to get me to see.              The streets are cold , cruel , vicious, and everyone's for themselves.         When your money runs out, your group of so called "friends," are gone.       No one is going to give you something for nothing,  you make  it the best way that you can.       Looking back, the temptation of being out there with my friends,  doing whatever I wanted to do,  without permission from my parents, was the lure that motivated my desire to leave home, and hang out in the streets.       My parents fought tirelessly to protect me from the hazards of  street life, but obviously, I wouldn't  listen.       They said son, you're too young at eighteen, haven't finished high school; you have no money.        What makes you think that you can make it out there on your on.       You think that it's cool to hang-out, smoke  weed, drink alcohol, pop pills, do edible drugs, and stay up (high ) all night, and fallout wherever  you are.        The devil is a liar, he will set you up, to lure you in,  he'll make you think that you're, "part of his street family," but, when it all goes down, (and it will go down), the devil will point a finger your way,  and leave  you to defend yourself, and move on to the next victim.  In street life, you better know  which-a-way the wicked come.           They  wear false faces to hide who they really are.       I played with the devil, and crossed many murky, dark rivers, but, the devil did not win.         I heard my parents voice's saying, "Theirs only two places to go  from street life, prison or the cemetery."     The devil is a lair, and he's not your friend. be aware of who and what you follow, because, all feathers ain't good feathers, choose the path of least resistance, and your life will change for the good in you.