[I am from the city of three]
a poem by Jamaal Black
Where teens party, get drunk and walk in the street
Might catch someone beating up a potted tree
Everyone know everybody, including the police
Country rides to purgatory smoking blunts of green
Bonfires with kegs snuggled up with your squeeze
All was well until that one day with those things
Never ending cycles became addicting
Friend betrayed friend, all to be King
One by one they disappeared, sent to prison or OD’d
Some just moved away never to be seen
I was lucky, I got out, but nowhere near clean
I long to go home but that place is in a dream
My city has been taken over, Meth is now King.
Above is a poem from a creative writing workshop held at a local probation and parollee facility. It illustrates gorgeously the city and region's struggle against Meth. I've casually heard of Kalamazoo referred to as "the Meth capital of Michigan," and research on meth busts concurs.