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Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
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.
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