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My Promise
By Alfonzo Tucker (Columnist)
Published September 3, 2009

My Promise

This promise I made to me

Before I truly understood how

significant my life could be.

I vowed not to sell drugs

So a dope salesman I could never be.

I’ve witnessed lives wasted in disbelief

Wondering why addiction captures the weak.

My promise speaks, every time life harasses me

Listening to others cheat.

Cheating themselves be inhaling or injecting death

Then running in hopes the

Grime Riper loses his breath.

My promise was never made to impress

Only to relieve the possibility of an addicted stress.

Intelligent, yet behind, school was a place

I attended yet never defined.

Only to lose confidence in my academic ability

Unbeknownst to me I learned that everyone

can develop intellectually.

I promised myself to attend every class

While my boys skipped school my grades improved.

Never a 4.0 but having a bachelor’s degree is cool.

Simple and easy life may never be

If you make similar promises happiness

is a greater probability.

Not because you have a degree

Or you’re not the type to smoke weed.

Simply because you’ve empowered

yourself with security.


No longer will reflections of heinous memories cloud your thinking

Giving you a codependent personality.

Your own promises will afford you

a healthy mentality

This is worth more than a fly ride

Even more then a home that rest high

in the sky along a hillside.

I promise to write, which curves a morbid  S.I.T.E

Can you promise yourself life’s victory?

It is a possibility! Thomas Tucker tried

Only to give up after each challenge would subside.

His drug addiction captures him every night.

Thomas Tucker is my biological father

who taught me how to rock up coke.

He did this while robbing people,

often with a twenty-five held to his victim’s throat.

Thomas lost his pride, I need not describe him.

He is the man you give your change to

as he begs from a profitable curb side.

What choice will you make?

Promise yourself to accomplish your goals

no matter the stress, the strife

Or will you give up, only to be excited when some one places within your beg cup, currency that will last you through the night.




Categories: Noetic to the Third Power

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