Unwritten poem: For the guys

I often wondered why some fathers never taught their sons how to be men

Why they never taught them to walk with their heads held high enough to see the beauty in a women’s face

And that when you speak you hold contact with her eyes as if you’re meeting God for the first time

I question why they claim to have so much confidence about themselves, but yet there baggy jeans reveal so much insecurity about them

Why do some guys fight all the love out of them?

And build hatred in their heart like they were never meant to love

Just like sons weren’t meant to cry for their fathers

Like mothers weren’t meant to weep for their daughters

With eyelids like weeping willows

Please tell me why that guy rather squeeze his way into her jeans rather than knowing her first name?

Please tell them that no father for an excuse is dead

 Man why do you walk as if your shoes are two sizes too big

Bend as if your bones never knew the meaning of straight

And hang your head so low as if the weight of your thoughts are deadly

Why is there a permanent mean mug etched from both corners of your lips

Why are your fists always clenched with nothing in your palms worth holding on to?

Sir aren’t you tired of the hater’s photo bombing your dreams?

Boy aren’t you tired of these black tops

These pavements have nothing good to offer you, so my question is why

Why the sacrifice for your life

Because I can assure you, you did nothing wrong to get yourself in this mess

So why did you end up here

Why did you stop here?

Did someone beat all the fight out of you?

Did someone lie all the truth out of you?

You are too important be a Nazis to these streets

Stop killing for the ghost of your father

Stop dealing for the lack of your mother

Stop running with the bum crew who only messes with lose screws

 And learn to be the best you

You have truth in the palm of your hands so hold onto that for dear life

Because that’s what you need

Not a knife in your back pocket

Not a gun on your closet shelf

Not a haze in those sweet browns

Man fix your crooked backbone

Stand up straight

And for God’s sake enunciate

Take all that thug off your walk

And boy when you talk to your mamma

Take all that base out your voice

Her home is not your kingdom, but her queendom

So respect her

And love her

And learn to make mama proud

Be the man that you were meant to be

Be the man your father never taught you to be

Be amazing

Be the fruits of the Spirit

Be Godly

And always remember to be that light in a dark place

Be monumental

Be life changing

Be a man

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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