My mind is collapsing into the wells of danger as the graves of my words challenge me for tomorrow.
The ammunition of the day collides with the flesh of the night and the tears of a mother are heard beyond eternity.
Hostile voices of ghetto life are being cultivated into the outline arenas of bloodstain fables.
Hearing the concrete jungle play the sound of death as I walk the streets of life home.
What society has constructed to dwell within for living is now a tournament of survival which casts black lives.
Looking at my enemy from across the street; the drumbeats of our ancestors are crying tears of confusion.
The streets of life awarded the black nation with shift changing monies of fast cars and ownership of nothing.
The uniform of justice has a license to kill me; the feet of my brother from my table carried my life to the grave.
When the crimes of Africa were heard in America we shouted to the mountaintop of the anarchy.
Times of unwarranted discipline for the civil rights of living has etched our souls of despair as we exchange graves.
Stars of the street brought more philosophy of paid in full with the innocent blood of infants.
The streets of life conquered the black youth with Hollywood scripts; what will your dash be?
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June 9, 2016
Posted by Damita Miller-Shanklin