THE CHANGE THAT WE DIDN'T MAKE

The "joint" (poem) that you are about to "smoke" (read) is one of my favorites. I was inspired to write it back in 2012 one hot summer's day as I was driving down 2nd street (the heart of the hood) in my hometown of Lake Providence, Louisiana, but the concept can be applied to Monroe and the condition we see young men in that live in crime infested areas. I was captured by the sights I saw, the sounds I heard and the pain I could sense and feel as I was able to tap into the spirit of those trapped in a vicious cycle of poverty, crime and hopelessness. You are about to go on a journey (trip)that will give you a "higher” understanding of the so-called "Thug Life". The words in this poem are a testament to what I saw as it paints a picture of a scene that takes place in the ghettos of most cities and towns in America including Monroe. Although it is not a pretty picture, I could still see the potential to be great that lies deep inside those brothers and sisters if only they could see themselves thru the eyes of their creator. I imagined how much better things could be if those in positions of power and influence would look beyond the mask that those who still live in the “hood” have to wear in order to survive in the streets and see what's in their hearts. We must learn to look beyond their masks and see the unseen hand of their life experiences that greatly contribute to their behavior. I "rolled" (wrote) this "joint" (poem) to challenge the so-called “thugs” and our elected and appointed officials to MAKE THAT CHANGE.

“THE CHANGE THAT WE DIDN’T MAKE” Copyright 2012 Written By: Mr. Marion Obafemi , "THE PO' FOLKS POET" and inspired by God

Like Bob Marley smoking a spliff, I needed a lift,

so I inhaled what I saw

Inside my hood, so I thought I would,

exhale through this poem and draw.

A picture for you, to give you a view, of a twisted way of life

That is lived every day, while on my knees I pray, we try to make it right.

Now, over there on that block, you will see dudes that are not, hanging out with Mr. Cooper

They find shade under trees, and shoot more than the breeze, they are figuring out ways to do you.

Some harm, so don’t be alarmed, because if they don’t do then they will die

They have been manipulated by the system, and you will become a victim, when these thugs begin to cry.

The tears, they spill, don’t stream down their faces like a bride who is drowning in love

They leak from bullet wounds, afflicted by crooked goons, that cry by shedding blood.

The clothes they wear, might cause you to stare, because they look 10 sizes too big

But, if you look a little closer, you will see the weight on their shoulders, they have carried since they were kids.

Their music is loud, their words are vile, and more venomous than a snake

Nothing is worse, than to be cursed, by

THE CHANGE THAT WE DIDN’T MAKE”.