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Ghetto

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Below is the poem entitled Ghetto which was written by poet Jason kirkwood. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Ghetto

Now here's a story everyone should 
know, 
About a young boy growing up in the 
ghetto. 

His father was murdered when the 
boy was just six,
Now he lives with his mom, who 
makes money  turning trickS. 

He dropped out of school when he 
was still young. 
Started dealing crack, strapped with 
a gun. 
And near the corners with his friends 
he would hang,
And it wasn't long til he joined a 
gang.

He knew he'd never get a job,
It was easier to sell rock, steal and 
rob.  

He lives like a banger well into his 
teens,
At war with other gangs selling dope 
to the fiends. 

He meets a girl, and she brings him 
joy, as she gives birth to his little 
boy. 

He decides to straighten up, get back 
on his feet,
Get out of the gang, get off of the 
street. 

But before he gets to meet his son,
Cops pick him up as he tries to run. 

One of his friends had turned 
mouse,
And gave up his homies stash house. 
,

And as the cops seized all the items 
from there,
They found his prints almost 
everywhere. 

Now he's looking at some hard time,
As this is not his 1st major crime. 

For 5 years he gets thrown in jail,
Not eligible for parole, cannot post 
bail. 

But he decides not to be a fool,
He takes courses in jail, finishes high 
school. 

He does his time, gets his life 
reinstated. 
Beats the parole, he's rehabilitated. 

He's grown up now, at 25,
Most of his gang dead, happy to be 
allive. 

Takes the bus back to the block,
Where he spent most his life, 
slinging the rock. 

He gets off the bus gets met by a 
young "G",
"Hey buddy, do you remember me"

"You use to sell crack and drugs  to 
my mother, and it was your gang 
that put 2 holes in my brother."

" that was a long time ago",
 "I'm not the same man, put down 
the gun yo."

The next few seconds go very fast, 
he's filled with bullet holes, Demons 
from his past. 

He reaches in his pocket, pulls out 
his cell phone, as he is only a few 
steps from his home. 

He wants to break the chain, and 
talk to his kid, and tell him not to do 
the things he did. 

But its too late, his boy is their 
crying. Looking at his daddy dying. 

"Daddy, Daddy, please don't go", "I 
barely know you you know"

He looks at his son, tears in his eyes, 
Gets out "I love you" before he dies. 

Now here's another story everyone 
should know, 
About a young boy growing up in the 
ghetto. 

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  1. Date: 9/6/2012 9:13:00 PM
    Oh wow...that was excellent. Not once was the poetic structure fumbled and it all flowed nicely. The subtle pattern at the end was very creative as well...reminds me of Absurdism. A nice piece it was indeed.

  1. Date: 9/6/2012 2:00:00 PM
    Hoping you continue to find the inspiration to write and share your wonderful poetry with us Jason. I enjoyed reading your poetry very much today. Love, Carol