He saw his dad
Get cuffed up when
he was 5 years old.
He got released when he was
15 years old.
He went back when he was 25.
To me that was nothing
He told him once again he was the man
Of the house and he should set
An example for his siblings
Don’t follow his trail,
Don’t follow his paper trail of
Illegal troubles.
My old pops is a precinct oldie.
Been to jail
Locked up more than ever.
He is the career prisoner,
He never learned,
Does the same shit and end up
Back in the slammer.
My old pops is a precinct oldie,
All the officers know his name,
He is the main star in their files,
Most wanted, that is the precinct
Oldie, precinct oldie
I’m so used to the music of sirens
Serenading my house,
I’m so used to the sounds of the
Dispatcher sounding off that the
Whole hood can hear.
I’m so used to the flashlights of red and blue.
I even know all the officers’ name and they know
My name.
They know I’m the son of a career criminal who can’t
Stop sinning, sinning.
I’m so used to this more than a child should.
I’m so used to pain, pain my pops caused.
My old pops is a precinct oldie.
Been to jail
Locked up more than ever.
He is the career prisoner,
He never learned,
Does the same shit and end up
Back in the slammer.
My old pops is a precinct oldie,
All the officers know his name,
He is the main star in their files,
Most wanted, that is the precinct
Oldie, precinct oldie
Precinct Oldie is a poem from the book:
The National Eyes of an Urban Pariah by Delali Norvor.
Photo Credit
Thumbnail Feature – Microsoft Office Clipart Collection
Guest Author Bio
Delali Norvor
Delali Norvor is a teenage writer residing in Maryland. She was born in Accra, Ghana in 1995. She is an avid reader and she skipped 6th grade in middle school. She won second place at the 36th annual PGCPS Write-A-Book contest, and her poem named “Music Video Life” is being published in a poetry book called “A Celebration of Poets.” She just started her senior year at Eleanor Roosevelt High School.
Follow Delali on: Twitter | Tumblr
Ray Colon says
Hi Delali,
I enjoyed reading your poem. Growing up in the inner-city, I recognize the cyclical horror that a recidivist “head of the household” can impose on his family. Fortunately, my dad wasn’t caught up in a criminal life, he was merely absent. Crazily, that seems a like better option under the light of your poem. Thanks for sharing.
Ray
Delali Norvor says
You are welcome and thanks for sharing your thoughts with me!