Treasure Island

Edward Kofi Louis

(13th October 1961 / Accra, GHANA)

50 Cent


'I will kill you like a snake',
'I will roast you like a chicken',
'I will fry you like a plantain',
So roll, roll, roll your boat when,
You have a killer gun in your pocket.

I was born in the ghetto with,
The status of poverty without a fish in my hand;
I was taught in the ghettto with,
Much tears than hope;
I was brought up in the ghetto without the Statue of Liberty to salute!
So roll your boat with the gun in your pocket;
But, who is there to cover up your actions?

I was taught in a mud-house without slippers on my feet!
And, that's the kind of society i cam from;
I had my education on the streets with,
Fights, hunger and starvation to crown the day! !
But, your killer gun in your pocket will give you up one day.

Taught by the streets,
Lived by the streets,
Learned by the streets,
Loved by the streets,
Hated by the streets,
And, many of us married by the streets;
The cluster of a phobia into my maturity,
That is why i do not respect the gun in your pocket today.

Stealing and looting! !
With plans to make the next move,
And, as a human-being who lives on 50 Cent a day.
Life in the ghetto,
With the status of poverty without a fish in my hand;
Life to me was just like the mountain of snakes,
So, just roll your boat with merry on your face.

Life's fair fountain that eluded me! !
With stealing and looting as the order of the day;
And of the plans to make it work.
I was just living on 50 Cent a day,
And, joy to me was like the roasting of a chicken;
Hope to me was like the killing of rabbits! !
Peace to me was like the frying of plantains;
And, of an excellent value for many of us when one dies,
But were still mulling to make a case like a courageous leader.

To live on 50 Cent a day in the ghetto! !
With the muse of the cluster of a phobia into my maturity;
Life in the ghetto,
Life on the run with the bullet train!
But at times, it was like the straw on a camel's back.
Life in the ghetto,
Like the golden cup whose shock aroused! !
When one equals to a temper of heroic hearts;
With the negatives to meet all day Long.
Life in the ghetto,
Like half-naked Young Lovers who called for help!
Life in the ghetto,
Like the peace of one's mind with questions to the moon;
But all along, i have managed to live on 50 Cent a day.

Submitted: Thursday, July 31, 2008
Edited: Wednesday, September 11, 2013

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  • Gangadharan Nair Pulingat (7/17/2014 5:19:00 AM)

    Poverty and the poor living conditions of a human being is a matter of concern. when it relates to ghetto the matter is still hopeless where breeding ground of wrong things arises. The poem and the situations of a human being in such circumstances is legibly created by the poet which is very noteworthy and circumstances explained. (Report) Reply

  • Nylynthial Greenland (7/31/2008 9:14:00 AM)

    I did not have to read all this to know that this is a fabulous peice. reading poems from writers that 'have something to say' about things that need to be heard brighten my day. When people dont have much in thier pockets, those same people build an incredidable wealth in the mind and heart... but then again poets and writers who don't live the fancy lifestyle to occupy the time at malls and fancy meals, have your type compassion to share! ! ! FABULOUS! ! ! (Report) Reply

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