The Rose That Grew From Concrete



Shakur, Tupac. 1999. The Rose That Grew From Concrete. New York: Pocket Books. ISBN: 0-671-02845-6

     Poems written when he was 19-year old and published after his death, Tupac reveals his inner-most thoughts and feelings of his surrounding and his hope for the future.

     Some of today's teens may not know who Tupak is, while others hail him as divinity. Tupak is a martyr in some of their eyes, while others view him as a thug and hoodlum. According to the introduction, written by his manager, Leila Steinberg, Tupak's pre-rapper existence was full of passion for the arts inspite of his poverty; some much so that this book and his works have encompassed world-wide advocacy for the arts. Compiled by his manager and mother, Tupak's poetry and artwork lines one side of the page, while the poem featured is typed out on the other. The strength of this book is the original poems written in Tupak's own hand, photocopied. There are little doodles and drawings in his original pieces that decorate and seem to bring the poems to life. There are also a few pictures of Tupak. the preface was written by his mother.

     Susan Salpini for School Library Journal wrote: "A collection of poetry written by the rapper between 1989 and 1991, before he became famous. The poems are passionate, sometimes angry, and often compelling." The product descirption form Amazon stated: "His talent was unbounded, a raw force that commanded attention and respect. His death was tragic -- a violent homage to the power of his voice.

His legacy is indomitable -- remaining vibrant and alive. Here now, newly discovered, are Tupac's most honest and intimate thoughts conveyed through the pure art of poetry -- a mirror into his enigmatic life and its many contradictions. Written in his own hand at the age of nineteen, they embrace his spirit, his energy...and his ultimate message of hope."

     Although I am not a big fan of poetry nor of Tupak, I read through this book and found I liked this poem. It sounds like a lot of teens can relate to being alone and no one caring.



Sometimes I Cry

Sometimes when I'm alone

I cry because I'm on my own

The tears I cry R bitter and warm

They flow with life but take no form

I cry because my heart is torn

and I find it difficult 2 carry on

If I had an ear 2 confide in

I would cry among my treasured friends

But who do u know that stops that long

to help another carry on

The world moves fast and it would rather pass u by

than 2 stop and c what makes u cry

It's painful and sad and sometimes I cry

and no one cares about why.