DedPoet > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

When I was in gang In the grimy streets of my youth, I lost many friends to colors. When a homie would die, We'd get drunk and pour a 40oz And g..

Dozing at dawn The incessant alarm hits, Drowsy and frowning And dimly discerning the lights From the runaway dreams, Forgetting wh..

Simple fleshed desire.

The story poem of how I lost my mother in the ghetto of my youth, The Westside.

A poem of people and that ever so haunting doubt we seem to shadow ourselves with.

DedPoet Writing