You Are Black

This poem is my response to the most recent outburst of violence against minorities.  Although violence is nothing new, I must say I’m especially appalled at the mishandling of the case of Trayvon Martin.  This is for him.

 

You are black

a shadow puppet against a white screen

you will not succeed.

You’ll be held back by the confines

of your own mind

ridiculed and mocked by your own people.

You are an impurity

something to be cleansed

all your blackness rinsed from your skin.

You are black

no more

always less

you are uneducated, unsophisticated,

feculence.

The gunk behind the ears of a world that

considers you

sub-par.

What will you do BLACK man? Fight?

No you’ve fought before

How will you free yourself of the

social stigmas? Protest? March?

No BLACK man

you will rise

rise

rise to the occasion

stepping on as many necks

and climbing over as many backs as you need to. You

will trample the hate, the setbacks,

the gown, and the gavel.

You will push their faces into the mud

push them into the brown clay

back to the BLACK

A Haiku

Here they come the tears

hold your breathe beneath the flood

the levy’s broken

Gratitude- A Quatern

Thanks for teaching me about life.

To you I’m forever indebted.

I’m newly impassioned to find

my way.  Outcast, I’m a student

 

cum laude from the school of hard-knocks.

Thanks for teaching me about life;

for showing me honesty is

the rarest of gems. The golden

 

rule does not apply.  In order to

breathe, I don’t need air, don’t need trees.

Thanks for teaching me about life.

You taught me sex, drugs, and cash are

 

essential to pass this garbled

course.  Lying, cheating, stealing are

tried and true methods for success.

Thanks for teaching me about life.

A Fluid Fortress

If these silk walls could whisper

Of what thoughts would they gather to tell?

Surely they would cry, of stifled nights

Between legs held tight; locked in a loveless jail.

 

But with silence they’ve been charged

To keep the secrets of their forlorn mistress by day

And to keep the advances of strange men

At bay.

 

Although if granted the chance

I’m most certain they would

Petition for relief

From the drought they’ve patiently withstood.

 

These silk walls are

Ready to be knocked down.

Demolished by an intruder’s hand

Searching for dampness beneath the sand.

School of Art

 I thought your poetry was just for me

Those songs you sang were my soul’s melody

I remember when you used to move me

Your pen touched my pad and soothed me

Our colors collided, we made art

When we made love

Somehow you had a sudden lack of creativity

Your vision became shortsighted

Your brush no longer stroked my canvass

You were loving a new enchantress

I was primed and prepped for defeat

Baby I thought our love was deep

And to think, I let you in

Again, and again, and again

No matter, I’m older now, and I’ve grown to understand

That any fool can scribble on paper

It takes a real man to feed you thoughts you can savor

Yes I’m full-grown now

And I’ve waited patiently

‘Till I was blessed with a renaissance man

whose poetry is ALL for me

No Flowers in This Spring

Flickr Photo by Yunchung Lee

I sit here penning poems

whilst my people are dying

dying fighting for a freedom

a freedom they cannot conceive

I sit here littering this paper

with my menial thoughts

whilst my people march on city streets

bloodied hands raise flags for the cause

they’re willing to die as martyrs

a title they’re sure they’ve earned

and I, I just sit here writing poems

wondering why the women must weep

over loved ones who so valiantly

choose to die in hallowed streets

Little Brown Sun-drop Boy

You are no bundle of joy

my little brown sun-drop boy

For quite some time now

we’ve been together,

you and I, me and you

my sweet, caramel kiss.

You’ve seen some things you shouldn’t have seen,

been some places you shouldn’t have been.

But that’s ok because,

me and you, you and I

we’ve been riding it out,

since 2007

when you burst onto the scene

my life hasn’t been the same.

My little brown sun-drop boy.

I must admit I was not prepared

for you,

and for the hardships you would bring.

I had no pain.

in bearing you,

but you know what they say.

I’ll get my fair share of heartache,

you prove that everyday.

Although my language is not very deep,

and I do not possess the idioms

with which to speak,

although you’ve stretched my patience

and my womb,

and sometimes I’d like to beat yo a$$

because you are no bundle of joy.

I love you dear son.

Moon in my midnight sky.

My little brown sun-drop boy.

Langston Hughes- Our Black Poet Laureate

Today it is rare to come across a literary figure that also serves as an activist for his community.  Langston Hughes was just that.  He was an acclaimed writer, playwright, and social activist by means of his work.  He was also well-traveled and often times accused of being a communist; claims which have little base.  Regardless of his political associations the man was a poetic genius.  His poems are simple, undiluted masterpieces.  Since I’m reading through a complete collection of his work ”The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes, Editor Arnold Rampersad, and Associate Editor David Roessel,”  I’d like to share a few poems with you all.  I’ll try to post some of his lesser known poems so that you can get a true sense of his poetic prowess.  If you would like to share any poems by Langston Hughes, or by any other poet you hold in high esteem please leave them in the comment box below.

Without further ado here are a few poems of his I’m really digging, enjoy!

 

God to Hungry Child

Hungry child,

I didn’t make the world for you,

You didn’t buy any stock in my railroad.

You didn’t invest in my corporation.

Where are your shares in standard oil?

I made the world for the rich

And the will-be-rich

And the have-always-been-rich.

Not for you,

Hungry child.

 

Justice

That Justice is a blind goddess

Is a thing to which we black are wise.

Her bandage hides two festering sores

That once perhaps were eyes.

 

My People

The night is beautiful,

So the faces of my people.

The stars are beautiful,

So the eyes of my people.

Beautiful, also, is the sun.

Beautiful, also, are the souls of my people.

 

Formula

Poetry should treat

Of lofty things

Soaring thoughts

And birds with wings.

The Muse of Poetry

Should not know

That roses

In manure grow.

The Muse of Poetry

Should not care

That earthly pain

Is everywhere.

Poetry!

Treats of lofty things:

Soaring thoughts

And birds with wings.

That all folks!  I apologize if the form of some of the poems is distorted.  I tried to copy them as true to form as possible.

Catch Our Flow

Mixed Media Art By Umm Qamar

we get lifted, you and I

nobody can catch our flow

when we ooh, it’s like aah

we flux together so seamlessly

nobody can catch our flow

they’re square, we’re round

try as they may but,

nobody can catch our flow

it’s nothing learned, it’s natural

it’s the simple mathematics

that makes you

 equal me

and together we

we just add up

I know it’s frustratin’

everybody, they’re perpetratin’, but

NOBODY

CAN CATCH

OUR FLOW

Unlettered Appeal

Just a little fun for the end of the week, share this with your co-workers.  I’m sure they’ll appreciate your sense of humor.

I love an ignorant man,

who speaks on

what we ain’t got,

instead of what we don’t have.

When we go to restaurants

he knows not what he eats.

All he knows is the menu says chicken,

and that’s some kind of meat.

I’m partial to men that, prefer incarceration.

I like em’ a lil’ illiterate too.

I stay far, far away,

from the educated, well-to-do.

Do you know where I can get one of these?

Good men are so hard to come by

I needs me a real man,

you know, a 3 time felon, that does drive-bys.

If you enjoyed this poem, by all means please, do share.  Don’t be selfish