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Array
(
[sid] => 171848
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => an innocence lost
[time] => 2012-04-10 17:15:40
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Just came home from the corners, beseeching the shorties, sipping on forties, leaning, scheming of ways to bounce on his old lady. Don't come home with no flowers, mood surly and sour, seeking vessel for drunken sexcapade, terrified wife is what meets his gaze. He stumbles in through the door, wreaking of cheap gin and whores. boom, thwack, pow, throws wife to the floor. Subjecting her ears, to drunk profane jeers, mumbling bitter sweet nothings as he starts humping, grunting, thrusting from rear. 9 months come to pass, 1st time father at last, but to hell with good news, he keeps beating her ass. Never bothers to welcome, his first born, a son. Does not cope with decision, mind with no discipline, set on pleasure, hedonism, yearning for more booze and women. While manner remains wild, broken mom tends to child. All sacrifice and dreams, in him embodyed. the boy sleeps in bliss, mama plants a soft kiss, mommy's little survivor, like her. The boy has grown older, his soul has become colder, despite pleas of mom, won't forgive what he saw. Let the sins of his father cause his innocence to wander. Squandering dreams amidst cash and fat booties, a once promising seed finding solace among thieves. Making immoral seem right thinking his ***** tight, eyes exposed to no light, his demise is in sight. Wants prestige for his name, gets deep in the game, slinging products in socks making quick dime bag dollars: the poor mans cocaine. Reflects on days passed, helpless against daddy's wrath, couldn't halt mother's tears, drowns sorrow in cheap beers, his brain had grown thick, deaths no longer feared. On his daily routine, unmarked car hits the scene, he's cornered and stocked, taken in custody. Boom, thwack, pow, the gavel comes down, given a dime, in the federal lockdown. 6 years passed, he is granted parole, swears to abstain from behaviour of old. Yet decrepit streets, remain only ties, a vicious cycle for men of his kind. Soon Jekyll becomes Hyde, evolved to what he despised, broke and desperate, he takes fateful ride. On his way to the projects, where his supplier resides, boom, thwack, pow, a bat meets his design. 3 swings to the head, leaking, left for dead, robbed for all he had left, by a fending crackhead. Only son lay bleeding, cut down for no reason, sought entrance to heaven through parlay with demons, sought refuge in absurd notions of others, spurned kind words, of beloved mother. Now look at his life, the small flame snuffed out, his final thoughts turned to broken house. Thought of drunken old man, beer gripped in his hand, the abuses he suffered by the swing of his hand. Remembering nights of mothers soft cries, felt all too familiar, his first lullabies. To little to late, could not break chain of fate, followed legacy of dad, turned out even more sad. His efforts for naught, his life was the cost, of returning to innocence, an innocence lost. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 115 [topic] => 31 [informant] => yeboaheu [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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