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People running,
from the scene of the crime.
They get locked up,
for years at a time.
Children crying,
with hunger pains.
People dying,
on crack cocaine.
Beggars living,
on the street.
People stealing,
so their babies can eat.
Children killing others,
parents beating their kid.
The car is totaled,
the drunk driver lived.
All of this is sadness,
some people would say.
But, in truth it's life,
we just look the other way.
The next poem's about happy,
such a harder thought.
All we know is sadness,
For that is what we are taught.

copywritten: 6-20-97 L Hunter


Is this sh** called life,
all just your game?
Or is it in my dream,
driving the world insane?
It has become a nightmare,
nigga's on the street.
They all be dying,
while getting their asses beat.
Why can't you brothers,
make an oath with steal,
that whatever it takes,
no backs you reveal?
See I'm just a girl,
watching as life passes me by,
"Yeah, my boys got my back,"
as my other brothers die.
Everybody stands there ground,
yet all wanting the same,
just like I said before,
it's all one big game.
The ones that comes out winners,
are all left standing tall,
watching as there brothers,
one by one still fall.

Copywrite: 06/01/97 by Lisa Hunter


Land for miles, with visions of grass that's green.
People are playing, worries don't show,
waiting, and longing for the night,
for reasons they only know.
Children barefoot in the stream,
playing and splashing with the fish.
The grills are lit and smoking,
mouths watering for their favorite dish.
Adults are laughing, lounging about,
their faces turning toward the sun.
No reason to fear, or lock their doors,
thoughts of harm, come to none.
The fire's are burning,
people dancing around.
with eyes that are closed,
feet firmly on the ground.
Falling asleep with their children,
holding them close, feeling so safe.
On the ground or in the tent,
it is know matter, there is no disgrace.
"Where is this place?"
You are asking me.
"It's when my eyes are closed,"
"my soul wanders free."
"It is the way.....
that life should be:)"

copywrite 4-02-97 L. Hunter

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