Ghetto Blue

 Ghetto Blue

 

A little girl on the street

Trying to find some food to eat

Can’t you see her cryin’

Can’t you see she’s dyin’

Why don’t you help her Lord above

All she needs is a shot of Love

People pass with their heads turned

They should all want to learn about the

 

Girl with the heart of gold

The girl you should yearn to hold

The cold and naked truth

About the girl with the eyes of ghetto blue

 

This concrete jungle’s a mess

It churns feelings hard to express

It’s time to open our eyes

How many more must die

As I sit and sing my song

Hoping it can right a wrong

I share my soul for all to see

To those that don’t act kindly to the

 

Girl with the heart of gold

The girl you should yearn to hold

The cold and naked truth

About the girl with the eyes of ghetto blue

 

I long for the day

When the children can play

No worry of evil near

Live a life without fear

Maybe if we worked together

We’d be able to make things better

No more blood will be shed

No more tears will be shed by the

 

Girl with the heart of gold

The girl you should yearn to hold

The cold and naked truth

About the girl with the eyes of ghetto blue

 

No more blood will be shed

No more tears will be shed by the

Girl with the heart of gold

The girl you should yearn to hold

The cold and naked truth

About the girl with the eyes of ghetto blue

Listen To Ghetto Blue

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Hard Knocks In The Hood

 Hard Knocks In The Hood

 

Twenty minutes by car, two turns off of the Parkway

Passing snooty Glenridge with lavish lawns of green

Irvington, potholes of devastation, rivaling moon craters

Daredevil drivers darting dangerously down the road

 

Brothers and sisters diverse as life in it's glory

A flourishing garden, of weeds betwixt flowers

But them eyes, those dark portals to see through

These are the defeated masses, descendants of slaves

The oppressed, the dysfunctional, the over comers

Grandmothers of sagacious wisdom mingle with stoned crack heads

 

405 Chancellor Avenue Newark, Church of Christ, next to,

Al's store on the corner, he's cheaper than a wooden penny

Freezing temperatures on Sunday morning, he sits shivering in his jacket

Saving a couple of bucks on the heating oil

Maybe when he dies he'll invest in a luxury casket

 

Drug dealers are friendly enough but they got a job to do

Congregating outside of Al's they got methods of operation

Entrepreneurs throwing the dice for a slice of paradise

Jail, insanity, death, those are the devil's cards

But we tell them about Jesus with a smile, and hope and pray

 

We give out second hand, free clothes, to the legions in ripped rags

We peddle hope, reminding them they are not forgotten

But our miniscule efforts are but a dim reflection

These are those pushed aside, ostracized and abandoned

Demonized for the audacity to dream of equality and escape

 

I have a mustard seed of faith, I planted it deep

Past the filth on the street, below the scarred concrete

It is a vision, foggy at best, I the interpreter, misunderstood

Like Phoenix from the ashes, we shall build great pyramids for the common good

Winter like reality is always harsh and bitterly cold, hard knocks in the hood 

 POLISHED FRAGMENTS

Poet To The Poor

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