An Echo From The Pass

 It’s the shot that was heard around the world. History serves as our greatest and most valuable resource known to man. An echo from the past that speaks to the present and a ghostly reminder which can haunt our future.

Who can imagine one incapable to spell, read or write in this day and time? What type of life will one have without knowing the basic principles of math. Where will you work? What kind of positions will be available for you to apply? How many jobs will you disregard and ignore? Why is this still an issue in this present day? Welcome to your new home, now come to daddy he’ll use and abuse you at a tried and tested rate.

An Echo From The Past

Your funny style plus that Chicken George smile, drinking, singing and dancing away. You act as if everything is alright. You rolled over, woke up and did the same thing yesterday. Who are you really fooling? It’s plain to see. When we fail to plan we merely plan to fail. It’s not a mystery.

You’re a reminder to me. Pretty much like weeping willows under a tree. A sad and painful echo and reflection of the pass that often tend to repeat itself disguised in many ways. Let’s bake a cake and celebrate. Isn’t that what you say?

Ahem! You’ve been married three times, now. He was asked,”What did you see in them?” He replied, “They were pretty and they smelt good.” These are some of the foolish things we do in the hood. How we fake it until we make it as we pretend it’s all good.

An Echo From The Past

You play the same moves. You make the same mistakes. You haven’t changed your losing style. You wear that foolish frown. When will you improve and develop? Fries, hot sause and ketchup. Mister, where’s my grape soda?

You’re 60 years of age.

Your wife speaks to you with hate.

You go to work to play, stare at women and mentally fornicate. The many games you think you’re getting away with, then you wonder why she treat you the way that she does. She screams out, “You make me this way”. Strange how I see it the same way.

Tell us. When will it end?

Harlem,

 

Heaven is at the foot of Mother…

 

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