Featured Writer: Kesau’c N. Hill

People Are Cold

 

I’ve been through the cold and the pouring

rains, through so much shit I don’t know who

to blame; my life has been crazy. Mama, look

what they’ve done to your baby…

 

I come from that part of the Valley where the

people are snow and the streets are cold. No

matter how tough you are or who you know

you’re still subject to lose your soul.

 

My mother sacrificed both joy and life. Would

sell her body to be sure we were dressed

right and had a place to sleep at night. There

was no man in the home so she taught her oldest

boy to fight.

 

By the time I was twelve I had to earn my way;

bring in what I could to be sure the bills were

paid. I watched my mother cry when they robbed

our place, so I chose my trade and officially became

a man that day, a home invasion that day.

 

I’ve been through the cold and the pouring

rains, through so much shit I don’t know who

to blame; my life has been crazy. Mama, look

what they’ve done to your baby…

 

I was running the streets with my hands in

everything, while at church my little sister sang;

I would grow fangs to protect my siblings from

the pains I knew the ghetto would bring. Toting

a 9 miller meter, bandana and a sack of cocaine.

 

On the front line of an urban war and not under-

standing what I was fighting for but still putting

brothas in the floor. Hating my life for being poor,

discontented, striking at the core and just not caring

anymore… After all, this was War.

 

I didn’t know how many days I’d see, I was only

fifteen and had grown men shooting at me. Ducking

So much I never knew where I’d pop up; the cops

killed Buttons, Crips killed Len Dawg, when Tick went

down I had no down time to grieve; a boy trying to breathe.

 

I’ve been through the cold and the pouring

rains, through so much shit I don’t know who

to blame; my life has been crazy. Mama, look

what they’ve done to your baby…

 

Even though by law, I was still a child I was

cast to the wild and sentenced to 15 years

to life in prison, listen! Never again could I

smile. Before I see the streets again it’ll be

a while and the last time I saw my mother was

during the trial.

 

My life has been rough but I’m still here. This

shit hasn’t beat me yet, despite the endless years;

I’ve realized I’ve got nothing but GOD to fear,

sometimes life’s unclear and it’s healthy to shed

that tear; there’s a reason I’m still here and there’s

a warmth in me still here.

 

I’ve been through the cold and the pouring

rains, through so much shit I don’t know who

to blame; my life has been crazy. Mama, look

what they’ve done to your baby…

 

© Kesau’c N. Hill

Excerpt from his upcoming book Serengeti Noise


16797883_740202076158170_3350406013219101455_oAbout the Author

Kesau’c N. Hill is an ex-gang member who, at the age of sixteen, was convicted of murder and sentenced to serve 15-years to Life in the California Department of Corrections. Fighting became a lifestyle that would accompany the gang world deathstyle. However, he would soon be mentored by an English teacher named John Murphy who saw past his tough guy exterior into something explosively creative.

He introduced him to the art of poetry and the power of the spoken word. He’d use that power to his advantage when his life serving Life became too difficult to bear. By defiantly writing poetry all over his prison cell walls “meaning” and “Passion” was discovered, hope and a sound vision was realized. Quite literally, poetry saved his life.

Visit Kesau’c’s Author Page At www.ctupublishinggroup.com/kesau-c-n.-hill.html


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  1. Featured Writer: Kesau’c N. Hill — Creative Talents Unleashed | The Lyrical Journal

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