Thinkers' Thursday Nights

and the character Socrates Fortlow


We don't often get the answers

The questions they come and go

But in this small house of mutual respek

The love and trust gotta grow

An old con, he got it rolling

Done his silent years in the pen

The kitchen smelt good

An from the dark 'hood

Come broken up girls and men

So tired of Death's gang-bangin'

And turnin' the tricks Momma taught

And hidin' one's heart an fearin'

That inner hopes might be caught.

But Socrates axed the questions

Then sat back an watched the flow

Of life with its cuts

And bruises an such

Brought out to the Light to know

An black and brown

Stopped to listen

As each speaker got a turn

An white an worn felt a kinship

Forgiveness jes bein' learned.

The answers they proved elusive

Ole Socrates sat and smile

The comments felt good

And in a changed 'hood

Sweet blossoms

Burst forth from bile.

No church could've brought

This blessing

Seemed codes and clothes

Blocked the way

Here silent prayers raised

An honest thoughts praised

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