gang

A Dirty Game

My homies eyes turned red as he bled from the gunshot.

Two blinks, one tear and then his heart stopped.

On the wings of an angel did his soul leave.

Time slowed down and then I felt a cold breeze.

As he bled, his blood spread like an oil spill.

Eighteen and he’s killed… now, that’s a raw deal.

Another son gunned down, another brother lost.

He balled hard on these suckas, then he paid the cost.

He couldn’t see the jealousy inside their eyes though.

My little homie lived fast but he died slow.

The irony is telling me that I should pump the brakes

but hateful thoughts begin to overtake.

I wanna up the stakes, take them to full throttle.

Pour the gas on, hang the gas out this ‘Lac

and get my smash on.

I could retaliate, but this cycle will never cease.

Immortal enemies, so we will never kill the beast.

That’s what they want; violence, destruction and blood shed

and won’t be satisfied until we’re laying all dead.

So I hold my head and keep it movin’ just the same.

Trying to keep my hands clean but it’s a dirty game.

– Jah Soul

 

Shots Fired

Man, many are going to hate this, many might feel me. Some will applaud me, some may want to kill me.

Being I never beat around the bush, always speak absolute. I’ve met a few good men in this,

even they can’t stand the truth.

Crippin’ been over for me, so long ago. I was finished trippin’ back in ’92,

my love for the set had diminished.

Though I thought I’d stay down the course for most of my life, had a change of heart

with children and a wife.

I’ve seen a Corrupted Regressive Ignorant Purpose that served me to no end.

Understanding then; those who put me down, didn’t really love me or wasn’t really friends

or kin, to set me up for misery and tears.

Destroying the small progress I’d made; set me back at least ten years.

But what made my ass set off in a new direction other than left, was the vision I had to find my true self.

Who I was and who I am are two different beings, that’s what you get when illumination

transpires before your eyes, truly open seeing.

To all I put down, please know I’m sorry; I sincerely apologize for leading you down a dead-end street

filled with pretense and lies.

Hilltop, I’m sorry. Courtney, I’m sorry. Phil, I’m sorry.

To my brothers, Vinnie T. and Jay, I say I’m sorry.

Jay, it made you go try the other side, a brighter hue.

To my son, Taelor, I didn’t understand then; I’m sorry it affected you too.

Like crack, this was a poison spread through the hood, an epidemic.

Crack, I shouldn’t have sold, the gang never got in it.

But when you are young and dumb, full of verve with nerves to try whatever.

You feel invincible, never seeing the trap pulling the lever.

So to all my ex-set, definitely my big homies. I say today in finality,

ain’t no love between us, y’all phonies.

When you told me back then that the set didn’t travel, slowly but surely the false mechanism

began to unravel.

Now I stand with a new purpose, as I write these verses, a Consciously Responsible Inspired Person.

Until there’s a Community Revolution In Progress; never, ever call on me.

Miss me with that mess.

I know, I know… y’all laughing at me, calling me a mark-ass-nigga.

Only because, I’ve grown to be a M.A.N, something you’re not; go figure…

– Thomas D. Payne

Rude Awakening

This poem was created by a young brother who happened to become my cell mate.  I immediately noticed his talent, but his focus and vision was unpolished.  After some meaningful conversations between us, he handed me this jewel.  I would love to share it with the Kingdom.  This young Prince goes by the name of Quala T…

It’s a cold world that we are living in, brothers killing brothers over dividends.

Our sistah’s being robbed of their innocence

and we are the ones to blame, but we act like we’re innocent.

We are supposed to be leaders, but we are followers

because we done let the street devour us.

I guess it’s all over for the Black man

and I can’t take that back. It’s reality, the facts stand…

All we know is robbery and homicide

and homie, you ain’t real if you ain’t down to ride.

Don’t we realize we’re making mama tired?

Take a look in her eyes, can’t you tell that she’s no longer inspired?

Mama, I apologize for everything, but I was hooked on fast cash and Mary Jane

and other supplements that I won’t dare to blame.

I know my father’s disappointed on the fact that I bear his name.

And we’re supposed to be our brother’s keeper…

Instead of dragging them out the water, we just pull them deeper.

Yet, we walk around like we are righteous;

pay attention to my words, common sense is priceless.

We fall victim to our circumstance, fail to use our minds

then wonder why they say we don’t deserve a chance.

They locked us up and threw away the key;

mentally, physically and emotionally they made us weak.

– Quala T

Conversion of a Conversation

This brother greeted me saying, “what’s up cuzz?”

I dropped my head in shame, not because I didn’t know who he was

but because my past haunts me no matter what I do.

They see me creepin’ Georgetown down wearing blue.

Don’t have a clue where I been, what I’ve been through or how I’ve changed.

My new outlook or philosophy, therefore, knowledge I’ve gained.

Ask me what’s cracking now, I only crack a smile

knowing I was once like them, in need of guidance, a lost child.

Upon choosing my new path, became a traveler of time and space.

Deciding to uplift my people, shifting the negative influence out of the race.

Coming face to face with the demons that prodded and those I created

so now when I hear, “what’s up cuzz?”, really it sounds silly…we ain’t related…

– Thomas D. Payne