The Children are Crying Out for Love

When I go to sleep at nights, I can hear the children of the streets talking to me. They are interrupting my precious sleep. Annoying squeaky voices begging me for hope. But instead they should appeal to the pope. For I cant help them, while they go down that slippery slope.

What can I do, for they keep on nagging me. Visions of them keep showing up of them in their sagging clothes. On my heavy thoughts they keep on dragging.

Damn, why they don't leave me alone. Do they not have a home. But still they are in my vision with their hair uncombed. Reminding me that they are Rastafarian children. I am now bemoaned.

If they are Rastafarian children, then they are my children. They are one of us. They practice an ascetic lifestyle not by choice, but by default. Born into a Rastafarian lifestyle, where they walk about impacting the conscience of mankind by asking "could I have a dollar".

Just like Rasta, They test the heart of man, representing JAH in disguise.

^{" When mothers of Salem, their children brought to Jesus, The stern disciples drove them back and beg depart, but JAH smiled and kindly said "suffer the little children to come unto me".}

Rastafari never forget them own. Let the first man without sin cast a stone. Answer the children instead of being on your phone. Even just buy them an ice cream cone. Don't rush them away with that harsh tone. Remember they could be your own.

We are children of the most high and they are our children. We want love from JAH, but don't want to share it. LET GO THE EGO. The children are our equal. For love will break all boundaries and unite all souls. When we brush them off and in the future they become successful. They will say to the other children.

_{"When I was in your shoe, no one gave me a meal, I had to tough it out on my own, with my sword and shield. I was in your shoes and had to walk the war fields. So get lost kid, nothing is free. I can't even offer an orange peel and you dare not touch my windshield".}

Isn't love free, Why not give it away. Everyone has it abundantly, far from being scarce. For what the afflicted one was pierced. When you see the kids, don't be fierce.

It rough but we don’t complain (fuss)

Life down in Jamaica (yard) is tough, it’s rough, but we don’t complain (fuss)

Days upon days the children (pickney) don’t eat, there out on the street, some of them are sleeping on the cold concrete.

Life down in Jamaica (yard) is tough, it’s rough, but we don’t complain (fuss)

Naked Body and empty stomach, deep collar bones and enlarged stomachs, depression show on their faces.

My JAH, what a disgrace.

This is the most basic principle of the Rastafarian Lifestyle