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<font size=3>From: <b>Youth Justice Coalition</b>
<<a href="mailto:freelanow@yahoo.com">freelanow@yahoo.com</a>><br>
Date: Fri, Dec 25, 2009 at 10:46 AM<br>
Subject: Peace On Earth and On Your Block from the Youth Justice
Coalition<br><br>
<br>
It was the night before Christmas, when all through the block<br>
Not a gangsta was stirring, not even a cop.<br>
The kicks were hung over telephone lines,<br>
In hopes that the County would come through on time.<br><br>
The shorties were knocked out in the back of the truck,<br>
No money for a mo-mo, we were clean outta luck.<br>
But moms had her braids done, and also her tips<br>
Thugs said she was fly - all the Eses, Bloods and Crips.<br><br>
We was broke and cold, but our bellies was full<br>
And we thought Santa might show if he could get bail<br>
Plus we had each other - that made it all right<br>
So we fell asleep all together on a cold desert night<br><br>
But the quiet in L.A. was broke - someone got caught slippin<br>
Out in the street were the sirens straight trippin<br>
I was up at the windshield, but sis pulled me back to the floor <br>
"Boy, do you wanna get shot? Don't you know where you are?"
<br>
And shining its light into our little bucket<br>
Was it Santa? - Nah just the LAPD's ghetto bird. Ahhhh, fuck
it.<br><br>
Still, I stayed peeping over palm trees and trash <br>
And saw someone running toward where moms kept her stash<br>
I was worried they'd take the small money we had.<br>
I had to be brave, I was mom's little man <br>
So, I leapt from the truck in my red-footed jumper<br>
And I covered the box hidden beneath the truck bumper.<br><br>
Round the corner raced two drivers, coming at me so quick,<br>
But it wasn't an angel, and it wasn't St. Nick<br>
They were chasing that fool, as he flew past my neck <br>
They were driving too crazy. They was gonna cause a wreck!<br><br>
And they whistled, and shouted, and called him by name!<br>
"Fuck ya hood!" I'll kill ya, I heard one proclaim.<br>
Some others I now saw were in a squad car<br>
"Hold up or we'll shoot. You won't make it that
far."<br><br>
Whether Eses, Bloods or Crips, I couldn't quite say<br>
But they were looking to kill, and I was right in the way<br>
And just as they fired, the cops fired too<br>
Little missiles of death from AKs, ninas and 22s<br>
I ducked, but the bullets were faster than me<br>
I felt something warm as I fell to one knee<br>
The concrete was cold and the lights they were glaring<br>
I heard my moms scream and saw my sisters staring<br><br>
"Oh, God save this baby," I heard someone cry<br>
But I saw my brothers and cousins as I looked to the sky<br>
They had all passed before me and were lighting the way<br>
A long road of death from the streets of L.A.<br><br>
Whether it was a cop or a gangsta, I still can't be sure<br>
All I know is that guns bring just one kind of cure<br>
I ain't mad or bitter, I got no one to blame<br>
It's not the corrupt system or the homies looking for fame<br>
It's not as simple as that, not that black and white<br>
Not good guys and bad guys mixed up in a fight<br>
And prisons won't solve it, this war on the streets<br>
To silence the violence, ya can't do it with heat <br>
I realized this as they covered my face with the sheet<br><br>
Bring love to the hood, and a legit way to make ends<br>
Recognize that the gangstas are first sons and friends<br>
And all the homies and shorties, we're not a disease<br>
We're just little kids trying hard to break free<br><br>
To the top of the fence on top of juvenile hall<br>
"Break away! Break away! Break away all!"<br>
To the top of the dome above city hall<br>
Fly little homie, and never fear that you'll fall<br>
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly<br>
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky<br>
So up to the roof-tops of L.A. we all flew<br>
The black and brown angels who died before they grew<br><br>
Ever wonder why Christmas in the hood isn't so merry?<br>
It's not just the money that's lacking, but the lost kids that's so
scary<br>
Every holiday reminds people of someone they miss<br>
Not a grandma or uncle, but some youngster's kiss<br>
We could stop the killing and bring peace to the block<br>
But not with an injunction or another cell block<br>
And not with a blue rag, or red rag at the end of a glock <br>
Not with cheap drugs that fill our veins up with doubt<br>
Not with new lofts and Starbucks forcing poor people out<br><br>
You know what to do, or I hope that you do<br>
It's not nothing mysterious or nothing new<br>
You just have to do it - set aside all your greed<br>
And take time to give the homies what we need<br>
Hush to the police and the people who lead<br>
Hush to the gangstas too angry to bleed <br>
Listen instead to the innocents caught in the streets<br>
And make sure to leave justice under our Christmas trees<br><br>
Peace On Earth and On Your Block from the Youth Justice
Coalition<br><br>
The YJC is working to build a youth and community-led movement to
challenge L.A.'s, California's and the nation's addiction to
incarceration. The organization is lead by youth who have been
locked up or whose families are incarcerated. All of us have been
to many more funerals than graduations.<br><br>
<br><br>
<br><br>
<br>
<b>Youth Justice Coalition<br><br>
Visit us @ Chuco's</b>: 1137 E. Redondo Blvd., Inglewood,
CA90302<br><br>
<b>Mail us @</b>: PO Box 73688, Los Angeles, CA90003<br><br>
<b>Call us @</b>: 323-235-4243 fax us @:
323-846-9472<br><br>
<b>E-mail us @</b>:
<a href="mailto:freelanow@yahoo.com">freelanow@yahoo.com</a><br><br>
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