Help needed to make work 'cooler'

[Kaimani]

planning on performing this some time. the audiance will mostly be young men, i expect, and parents. it's in a deprived area and hoping to reach that 'my child's in trouble and might die soon' or 'i'm a gangstar' group. still early draft. also need to make it last three minutes so any additions welcome. =======================================================

 

in the name of all the mothers with backs bent, hearts bruised and tears in their eyes

the policeman unzipping the bodybag asking "is it him? what was he fighting for? what was he dying for?" we pray...

for the poor child who started life looking for role models from those who never had father figures so could never give birth to a man.

the child told never to speak unless spoken to, then never spoken to so heard the streets calling

made street conor ten by ten foot patches of concrete his whole world.

thw child too twisted to even realise he was fighting and playing himself so redefined himself street warrior

the child with armies of demons who waged war with invisble foes who looked, talked and spoke like him

his battlefield strewn with nothing but his own dying dreams and gasping wishes

battles lost and every day another dream bites the dust

the child who built his whole philosophy on an illusion that never allowed him to see through the weed smoke and testesterone

the stupid fluid and hazed vision, the posterous posturing, the borrowed illusions of a life that never was and never would be his.

a life that never was at all

the child who never rose above this tv gangster **** so never knew to look to the skies for stars

found them instead in magazines and rap videos and couldn't see that the rocks on their chains are but sorry reflection of the real diamonds in the sky

we pray that tommorrow brings him a better sun

we pray that someone, anybody will ask, instead of

"what are you fighting for?"

or "what are you dying for?"

WHAT WILL YOU LIVE FOR?

[Kaimani]

been polishing it. hope this is better than it was.

=========================================================

in the name of the mothers.

backs bent, hearts bruised and teary eyes.

the policeman unzipping bodybags asking

"is it him? what was he fighting for? what was he dying for?"

we pray...

in the name of the fathers

angry, embarrassed, ashamed and with heavy shoulders

the judges passing down sentences and society's retribution

we pray...

in the name those among us who turned away

and those who stood on the sidelines

we pray...

we pray for the child born of fathers who never had father figures

so could never give birth to a man.

the child told never to speak unless spoken to,

then never spoken to so heard the streets calling

the child who made street conor ten by ten foot patches of concrete his whole world.

and so redefined himself street warrior

we pray for the child who waged wars too dark to see his invisble foes looked, talked and spoke like him

and his battlefield was strewn with too many of his own dying dreams and gasping wishes

 

to see through the testesterone, posterous posturing,

and the borrowed illusions of a life that never was and never would be his.

a life that never was at all

we pray for the child who never rose above tv gangsters too stupid to see the rocks on their chains are but sorry reflection of the real diamonds in the sky

the child who never knew to look to the heavens for stars

so found them in magazines and rap videos instead

the child who never learnt that though his ocean heaved with crushed dreams and gasping nightmares

he was the shining star fish

that he was a reflection of god and could squeeze butterflies out of catapillars

for the child now in the embrace of glorious sleep as his ribs are parted from breath

we pray...

we pray we remember we could have held his hand

and watched light breath the stars even through his weed smoke choked eyes

could have heard sea shells singing even through his tantrums

we pray that when the young to come seek to copy his existance

we will unfold their fists and hold onto life together

we pray that, instead of

"what are you fighting for?"

or "what are you dying for?"

someone, anyone, will ask them

 

WHAT WILL YOU LIVE FOR?