Born a ghetto child,
‘9th Ward’.
Why do I smile?
I still have dreams,
Owning a house on Miami Beach.
I had two close homies back in ’94,
But now both are deceased.
Look in my eyes,
See what I see.
Trust me,
It’s not pretty.
This is raw, reality T.V.
Up-close and personal.
My sights set
On the finish line,
But I’m so far behind.
I’m damn near outta time.
What is life really?
Do I have purpose here?
I thought I did
As a kid
Until my first crack sale
Down in New Orleans.
Being the crack dealer
And not the crack fiend
Was my ‘Amerikkkan Dream’.
Go ahead and laugh!
I ain’t mad.
But I am mad
I grew up without a Dad.
I’m sad because Dude ain’t never tried
And I’m confused because Dude is still alive.
Hell no, I ain’t gonna cry!
I’ve been through worse
Shot 3 times with a 9.
Laid in the hospital bed 6 days
Almost dead,
IV’s and nose tubes.
The first 4 days I didn’t have a clue
Who was you.
So come on
Walk in my shoes for only 1 day.
I wish you would.
Nah, young Homie,
I don’t think you could!
Let me tell you
Growin’ up in the hood
Ain’t all good.
Forget about dat shit
Your favorite rapper say in his song.
For this right here is a REAL LIFE POEM!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR. Mr. La Caze – A.K.A. PrimeTime – was moved off Death Row not long ago, and he continues to maintain his innocence. His writing feels deeply genuine to this reader, and I hope to see more. Rogers LaCaze can be contacted at:
Rogers LaCaze, Sr. #356705
CBB L/L L.S.P.
Angola, La. 70712