Brothas killing each other on the streets, <br />no one wants to retreat, <br />or show any signs of defeat. <br /> <br />Babies growing up with guns in their hands, <br />no chance of becoming a woman or man. <br />Would someone tell them it’s not in the master plan. <br /> <br />They live their lives on the edge, <br />ready to make a pledge to the criminally alledged <br />brothas and sistas they call family. <br />Can we please stop the insanity? <br /> <br />Is this future that is to be? <br />This desolate black hole stretching into the light <br />of the twenty-first century. <br />Gangsta love cannot go on, <br />We’re coming into the beginning of a new dawn, <br />A day that will go down in history, <br />To see that day is a blessing indeed. <br /> <br />All guns will point to the sky. <br />A truce will be called, <br />all spirits are high, <br />on substances other than controlled. <br /> <br />If only we could make that feeling last, <br />bring it into the future and forget the past. <br />Show the brothas and sistas that they can have hope. <br />A positive emotion in which to cope <br />with life’s many disappointments and adversities, <br />which don’t have to lead to fatalities. <br /> <br />No gangsta love is what we profess, <br />only brotherly love will stand the test <br />of time that spans into infinity, <br />with generations and generations of you and me.<br /><br />Cassandra Boyd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-gangsta-love/
