It Ain Over Till It's Over Poem by Melvina Germain
It Ain Over Till It's Over
A party animal, burning the midnight oil, you know,
moaning and groaning every day, every night. Drinking
till dawn, hey gimme a little weed and why not? you know
a little weed never hurt anybody.
A little meth?
A little heroin on the side?
cocaine perhaps?
You know I'm gonna do what I wanna do
I'm doing my thang man
living my life, that's what I'm doing
it's my life momma,
daddy, get your hands off me
What I do, got nothing to do with you
Arrogance, arrogance can do you in, yes indeed.
The dens of evil shoveled beneath the core of decency,
will ravish you, manipulate you, taking you into a frenzy
unknown to the realistic world.
That black hole with the pungent odor of failure, will own
your very soul and you...you become it's slave. Wallowing
in darkness, buried alive yet aware of your surroundings.
What can you do, clenched in the fist of a power unknown
to mankind. A power far beyond your control has captured
every fragment of your being, because 'YOU' let it.
Lifeless you appear though the mind is alive and aware of
this cave like existence. An existence of your own making.
Destiny was your control until you gave it up to the swingers,
the porn sculptured creeps of society, the drug gurus who
harbor no sympathy. The devil's crew as it were huum?
Reaching out and pulling you into the hands of carelessness,
the hands of mockery, the hands of uselessness and you
succumb, you succumb.
Here you are, hanging empty like the rotten fruit dwindling
off the broken branch of lost life.
Hopeless...encapsulated, chewed up, body mangled but the
mind lives in total awareness and you exist with the throngs
of regret. Observing, remembering, pondering day after day,
where did it all go wrong.
The day of reckoning has come but is it too late to revive. As
you wait for the inevitable to appear...fear begins to haunt
what's left of your soul, anxiety swirls within the mind and
that shivering shell is wasting away right before your eyes,
and there's nothing you can do now but wait for mercy.
Is it too late, is it too late to pick yourself up, is it too late
to mend that broken branch. Is it too late to look in the
mirror of the past recognizing that once upon a time, that
reflection was you. Ask yourself the question, do I want my
reflection back bad enough to do the work.
When you sit down and wrap yourself with the blanket of
hope, holding yourself accountable for what went wrong in
your life. Shedding the heave of evil... a preponderance of
light will shine on your being and you will become alive again.
A rebirth...now filled with wisdom, ready and willing to share
your experience so others don't follow that same path. Your
darkness can bring light to the lives of others, it's never too
late. You become the mentor now.
It ain over till it's over...
Written by: Melvina Germain
Date: Nov.9/2011
This mentorship should be every parents duty and perhaps the need for outside assistance wouldn't be so great. But I also believe it is every man's duty to help his fellow man in any way he can. Society has teetered on toilet's edge for a long time. But it's not over til good men give up. (By men, I mean mankind: -) Not just Y chromosome possessors.)
In a perfect world we can agree that it is every parents job to mentor their children but some children are tossed to the streets and we have to stand by them helping them to help themselves. Having said that much of the mentoring is left to the individual to want and to help themselves, this is the reality of the ghetto, the poverty stricken children from areas of no hope, it's so true Kelly so this poem speaks to those young people that even without parents they can uplift and progress realizing their dreams instead of falling into the valley of drugs and alcohol.
Do these people have enough inner reflection to do as you ask? - I doubt it.
People who have fallen usually fall on their backs facing upward, that's the first step, they're facing the right way and that's up. Many of us have fallen and many have come back to live not only good but great lives. People can climb mountains with just a little help and often it's very small actions that make a change, . the unfortunate thing is most people are too busy and many too judgmental with stereotypical views. Thank you for commenting Paul.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 6:28:31 PM # 1.0.0.1119
This is big time business, As long as there are suppliers, the problem will spread. With corrupt enforcers the situation is likely to get worse. your lovely poem says it all, The rest of us can only help in a small way. Thanks Melvina.