copyright 2018 F. Jacobs
AKA Bumani the Prudent Pauper
I come from the era of dislocated family structures also known as broken homes,
where single mothers carry the mother load of filling both roles,
while baby daddy chased a dollar and a dream Donald Ducking his responsibilities,
he was never held accountable, but instead was given the title of Rolling Stone.
This era produced rock stars who never graced the covers of Rolling Stone,
who free based an illegal substance, destroyed their communities because a fortune was made from friends smoking stones.
Crack was the death-blow to Black love.
They declared war on a particular pigmented people, but publicly labeled the War on Drugs.
Understand that no one forced us to put those drugs in our hands, bodies or communities.
We stupidly pursued a false image
because we wanted a percentage of the devil’s pie,
with eyes wide shut, all around us was darkness
we became savages of the madness
pursuing a dream that was never meant for us.
This was the era of gang mentality,
increase in gangster criminality,
raising the death toll only made some of us
numb to casualties.
I cannot stress enough the impact it had on me
growing up in a society…
scratch that, I’m just thankful my bones are not brittle and my skin is tough.
Even while I’m in prison the plight of my people is a struggle
the fight is for atonement, our communities are jungles
full of endangered species
where dreams get ditched in the gutter amongst the urine and feces
A generation that gets raised by detention centers and group homes,
T.V.’s, social media, play stations and music videos.
The teacher said we had to learn on a curve
which we understood as the street curb and
turned the corner into our classroom.
So let me ask: Who are you?
What is your purpose?
What good are you doing?
And, What good have you done?
Because at the end of the day
what’s worse: Being called a nigger
or being treated like one?
~ Bumani the Prudent Pauper