Even Hurricanes Make Flowers Grow

By JMA

I was a destroyer
A fickle force of nature
Who strolled through life
Damaging
Every soul I touched
Then you came into me
A storm
You ignited a conflagration
Within me
That catalyzed my transformation
Into the man you see before you
Fire burns
Not to destroy
But to transform
Transmute
Transmogrify
A change in temperament
Tempered by the slick touch
Of the woman who loves me
You have my hurricane
But even hurricanes make flowers grow

Free Minds

By Sincere Echoes

This is a call for all “Free Minds”
To enter the think tank
Make a deposit into the brain bank
And withdraw a little thought change
Self-empowerment
Builds structure, like support beams
Which keeps the self-esteem from crumblin’
The experience is humblin’
When you merge courage with comfort
And go in search of something
But, in order to be a “Free Mind”
You gotta make the best of the free time
It’s not just leisure
That’s how you facilitate to read between lines
And see yourself a little deeper.
Stretch a little farther; to become a dream-reacher
That’s a free mind – free thinker
Which makes the climb of the mental hills easier
The essentials of developmental
The escape of the dozed mind that had you
Trapped in a blind spot
Remorse the blindfold and life becomes a
Sight for blind eyes
With crystal clear facts you can now rationalize
Education and elevation, no longer passing you by
This is the evolution of the free minds
Where capabilities and limitations find patience
Where purpose and worth don’t feel so vacant
Finally found yourself and alleviated the imitations
Cause when you free mind; you free yourself on the inside
You tap into potentials and see yourself materialize
Your thoughts are reused and you begin to
Second guess and think twice
So do away with mistakes that were once
plentifully made. So I once again say, “This is a call for
free minds. Who’s ready to set their minds free?”

Changing Thoughts

By DK

As I sit here tired, alone, but peaceful in my cage
It gives me time to reflect and to let go of the rage.
I see so many guys, different races, different colors,
Makes you wonder why we all messed up, leaving behind our children, lovers and mothers.
What were we thinking while committing our crimes?
Look, it’s left me here…trying to write you this rhyme.
I’m so sorry I left you, so scared and alone,
I’m so sorry I left you in a fatherless home.
I sit here and reflect on all the things that I did,
And how I, not anyone else, caused me a 25 year bid…
So I give you the promise of a much better man,
‘Cause in 12 more years I’ll be armed with a real plan.
I’ll always be there for you in a time of need,
I’m starting now to plant the positive seeds.
Seeds that will flourish into a beautiful flower,
Giving me the strength and knowledge to help empower.
Just because I made mistakes, and lost my way,
Doesn’t mean because you’re my daughters, you’re destined the same way.
So keep your heads high, be proud, and strong…
Daddy will be home; it seems like forever, but it’s really not that long.

I Got Up

By DC

If you see a man down, do you assume that he fell?
If the burning in his eyes is there, which story does it tell?
If he is on his knees, is this a sign of submission?
Or was he once on his back, and rose to this position?

If you see him dropping his head, staring at the ground
Did he quit? Or is he looking for a new way to get around?
If you see that he is in tears, and he is letting them run
Do you assume that he lost, or that he has won?

Is he giving up or getting up?
Is he content with the notion of slumber
With no real inclination of waking up?
Could you give him a sec, could you wait?
To watch him fall, and then rise to be great?

For his struggle, though long and imperfect
Built him up from nothing
So it was worth it
From laying to sitting, from sitting to kneeling
To now almost standing – his resolve, so willing!

To be standing on his own, is his burning desire
It’s what drives him, like passion filled fires
To put his head up high, and his chest popped out
And not many can say, they know what “getting up” is about

Fertile Concrete

By GL

Lead and fire, erupted out of the stainless . . . steel weapon of humane destruction
Lead and fire has left a heart broken; a napkin soaked in; tears of grief
Which pours out of the crease of 2 eye sockets
Then rolls down the cheeks of a grieving soul
onto the surface of a sleeping man child
Who open his eyes, then show his grandma his dimples and gummy smile
Then he fills his lungs up with air, ball up his little hands, kick his legs
then allow the church to become acquainted with his presence

In a setting which is sad, the young lad, who never had
the luxury of knowing his dad – Grew up to be a college grad
Through correspondence – Through the walls of correctional institutions
Un-consciously volunteered in the destruction of his neighborhood
Because he only knew of no better options . . .
Grew up in a culture of crime
Where money is worshiped and tough guys drop dimes
The world tried to rob him out of his prime
But he primed his mind with knowledge
Now he obtain raw power
I believe that the concrete produced a rose
but all you probably see is a flower.