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