996 Plus 4 More

Let me take you to a place we know.

The only place that we know,

Nothing more do we know.

They said we got 996 grams,

Jose said naw slim,

I need 4 more.

Before he got 4more,

He got gunned down

By four more to get that

996 plus 4 more.

That makes

1000 grams.

1 kilo.

1000 sins.

1 dead body.

Why?

Cuz Jose asked for 4more

To escape this place which he

Only knows, only to get killed

By four more and know nothing more,

But 996 plus 4 more.

Jose is gone,

But his offspring,

Another four more,

Will soon face the same fate

Of getting gunned down by

Four more for,

996 plus 4 more.

And like papa,

Know nothing more than

The life of,

996 plus 4 more.

Ghetto Pain

Ghetto Pain.

Oh my,

There is so much pain

In this ghetto.

Our minds our enslaved.

Babylon, our oppressors.

Why Lord

Must we suffer

With this ghetto pain?

Do you know ghetto pain?

It’s an internal, ever burning struggle

That never goes away.

Ghetto Pain is when you pray that you

Still have a roof over your head tomorrow.

Ghetto Pain is when you remain quiet but then look at the current state of the youth,

Left with a heart crying rivers and streams of pain & sorrow.

And you remain silent because when you speak, they don’t listen. And when they do listen, they are no longer speaking because they have fell victim to the six walls of their wooden prisons to rot in the depths of Mother Earth.

Ghetto Pain is when you pass through the ghetto and your heart cries for those youth,

Always saying a little prayer unto the MOST HIGH that He will lift them

Out of their misery one day.

Reason  being?

Because you are a ghetto youth just as they are.

You know all too well the pain and suffering they feel.

Even though you were able to escape,

You still feel ghetto pain on a daily basis.

It’s like a bad habit that never seems to get rid of itself.

Ghetto Pain is when you cry

Yourself to sleep because

It hurts so much.

Ghetto Pain is when you pray.

Not any arbitrary prayer.

But a daily emergency prayer.

One where

You beg for God’s mercy.

Not for your own sake.

But mercy that He won’t take

Your best friend away from you.

A prayer that leaves your knees

Bleeding from the torn floor boards.

Every drip and drop of blood

Filled with this ghetto pain.

Why do you pray these bloody prayers?

Because,

You feel ghetto pain.

And if the Lord

So happens to take your best friend

And she is no longer here . . .

What are you  left with?

No best friend.

And this

GHETTO PAIN.

Please,

I urge you.

Take a step into this Ghetto

That has become our paradise.

Do you dare to cross that threshold?

And experience this agonizing pain.

Tell me the truth.

What do you REALLY know about

Our ghetto pain?

Step into our paradise.

Please,

Take my hand and step into

This paradise.

And feel.

Live.

Eat.

Breath.

Our Ghetto  P A I N.

Sick Love Melody

You held my heart in your hand and played it to the beat of your sick love melody.

Dancing like a puppet, I moved across this dance floor like a complete fool,

An idiot trapped in an invisible cage, screaming at the top of my lungs

To escape this mental love prison, looking to the sky and seeing the sun,

But blind to the light, all I could see was darkness and despair,

Black clouds over my head dropping rain and monsoon storms,

Every drop dripping down my face into an endless pit,

The same pit that I was cast into when I met you.

Being with you was like an eternal life sentence in hell but when

I looked around and opened my eyes, I was living a nightmare right here on Mother Earth.

The further we got, I unearthed that all you wanted was to be the mother of my children,

Sexing and flexing, trying to stay fertile like Mother Earth.

I dug my plow through your fields but never planted the seed,

No life forms were able to germinate, instead we became lifeless love forms waiting to terminate.

Because while you were trying to harvest the fruits of my labor, you were out doing the same

To another.

And through it all, you continued to hold my heart in your hand and play it to the beat of your sick love melody.
-Tim Rupnarain

Four Letter Word

What does love mean?

When will you ever be mine?

When will I own your heart?

These questions saturate

The four corners of my mind,

Infesting me with the disease

Of that four letter word,

That has festered into

An open sore in the

Four chambers in my chest,

Forever pounding that

Four letter word.

I’ve been loving you from a distance for years,

Hoping that in these four years

I could find out that

Four letter word.

Your heart and mind belongs to me

But your body to another man.

How can this be that

Four letter word?

Every night I hail seven cries

Praying that to one day,

Live seven lives,

With you.

But how can I without that

Four letter word?

I would do anything to put a smile on your face,

With my whole heart,

And that four letter word.

You probably do not know the extent to which I do.

I need you more than you would ever need me.

Your partnership is anointed

In the name of the MOST HIGH.

 

You are a special gift from God,

Treat you like a precious diamond,

Every morning is Christmas morning,

Unwrapping you into a blanket of that

Four letter word.  

I sometimes close my eyes and day dream of that day

When I will finally sit on the most high mountain top

And give you THE WORLD.

My life will forever be for your happiness,

Forever filling your days with that

Four letter word.

Seven cries,

Seven lives,

Praying for an eternity,

Will you ever accept my

Four letter word?

-Tim Rupnarain