Suicide Reasoning

I originally wrote this poem when I was seventeen and a runaway juvenile delinquent. I have revised it many times over the years. I've written music for it a couple times.

 

Living' in the streets aint where its at,

Stolen cars and an old black cat.

My pain as comfortable as my worn out shoes,

The future so bleak, beyond the blues.

These streets have been home

For so many seasons,

I could suicide now

For all the right reasons.

 

Living' on the streets is a time in hell.

Eatin' outta the garbage when I can get past the smell.

Hidin in corners to avoid bein' seen.

No place to sleep, no way to get clean.

These streets have been home

For too many seasons.

My suicide will be

For all the right reasons.

 

Livin’ like I do is a hell of a ride.

On the very best day, I’m still empty inside.

They’ll never hear me whimper

I got my pride, and I have a temper.

I could hold it inside for ten thousand seasons,

Or suicide now

For all the right reasons.

 

Author's Note

It still works best just like this. I think, anyways. The spelling and grammatical errors are intentional, no geniuses on the street. Ha!

Reviews

[Tony]

This is a good example of art built over time. The writer obviously has a clear knowledge of subject and has, as you said, revised the work several times. Well tuned this one. You forgot about watching out for broken glass when it's necessary to root around in the trash. I thought about it though and that just shows how provocative this poem is.
I also think that words like this can be highly enhanced with the use of an old flat top with new strings. And, of course in the hands of someone who has paid their dues, can moan the blues, and bend them guitar strings. As the song said.

[shadadakiya]

well that is great work being on the streets aint no place to be