so true

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    so true

    i sit
    waiting
    watching
    wishing for that bulge
    to appear
    always after we’ve smoked
    an L or two

    i knew that in a matter of time
    it’s presence
    would make clear
    the reason i was here
    the reason i loved yellow boys
    the reason i would never marry
    at least not in the eyes of God
    the reason sons kill themselves
    or leave their home never to return
    the reason some little boys cry at night
    longing for their father’s acceptance
    his genuine love
    attention

    the reason why caged birds sing
    and why flowers never blossom in the
    back yards of little boys who liked to dress and
    take care of others
    no flowers bloomed for them
    only balled fists with the power of buildings
    falling on puppies
    or sharp mean words loaded with hate like strategic tv
    ruining the innocent minds of children who know not who they are
    their destiny changed forever

    god must have made the mistake
    of puttin the delicious desire to be touched and caressed by strong black hands roughened with calluses from building america and then carrying her burdens
    from cotton to bridges
    for colored only
    less than equal
    powerfully inferior
    yet surviving strongly
    the strong black hands that held mama’s when she pushed forth life
    this life that they both created underneath a starry sky with a kiss from God
    the same life those strong black hands would strike and abuse without a single touch
    absent

    the worst thing you can do to a person is to ignore them
    the worst thing you can do to a son is to not care
    is this what’s wrong with little black boys from the projects or
    little black boys from the suburbs
    do they become abandoned like a racehorse with a broken leg
    a tampon after its’ purpose is satisfied
    flushed down porcelain toilets with blue water
    into oceans to be used and bullied by sharks and tidal currents
    only to become a grown man lacking the confidence to believe in his own dreams
    or the confidence to know he is all right; able and capable
    of saving the world

    peace, puppies and flowers are all birthed with the
    necessity to be loved, nurtured, and accepted
    and so do little boys who someday
    realize
    they are gay.

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    AcA commented on so true

    01-29-2009

    The message is delivered very passionately on a subject I'm sure is difficult to write about. Very powerful.

    Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    BLamont’s Poems (4)

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