Blue He threw his set up to the sky,
Threw Crip and sported blue.
He thought that he would never die-
And this at twenty-two!
And now he sleeps among the shells,
Along with vile germs.
Within his belly dwells the snails,
Within his head, the worms.
-jwm
5 comments:
I like it a lot.
Wow...powerful. What a waste...the death, not your poem.
I have to agree with Lorraine. This piece captures gang life artistically succinctly. May I ask, what was the inspiration behind this poem?
beautifully written!
Thanks guys! Your words mean a lot to me ...
I was saved out of gang life a long, long time ago. Too many people I knew died because of that lifestyle, and it wrecks me inside to see kids around me, young kids, submersed in it as I was. It's a senseless existence and ruins lives, and it grieves me to no end when I see it being 'lived' ...
The senselessness and waste that gang life represents inspired the poem, the ballad structure and 'pull-back' imagery were influenced by Emily Dickinson.
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