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Mari Roberts. Click the Next or Previous links below the poem to navigate between poems. Remember, Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth. Thank you.
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This Poem Wants 2 B A Revolutionary
This poem wants to make a change . . .
To be a strong yet silent raised fist in Mexico, 1968.
To stand at a window w/a shotgun writing the words
“By any means necessary”
To sit in at a lunch counter in Birmingham, Alabama
Until it is read
To start a breakfast program in Compton, California
In order to feed hungry minds
To stand up for its rights in Akron, Ohio and shout,
“Aint I a poem?”
To integrate an all white book store under protection of the National Guard
And when George Wallace says to it,
“You will not enter unless it’s over my cold, dead, body. . .”
This poem will gladly take him up on his offer
But now this poem feels that perhaps it is too militant,
Maybe it and Spike should just “Do the Right Thing” . . .
Take the hand of other poems deep in the South Georgia woods and lead them to freedom
Under cover of night-light
Take its brothers and sisters out of the man’s world and
Into Aaron’s “Boondocks”
Play its own music, live in Jamaica and
Grow Nappy Locs
Start a union with A. Phillip down at the docks
Be read by Martin while being pelted with rocks
Find out what would happen
“If Beale Street Could Talk”. . .
This poem will get accused of “Ego Trippin” but
will not take it personally, declaring,
“And Still I Rise”
It will invite other poems to a free concert headlined by
Marvin, Stevie, Chuck D, and Black Thought
It will do what it should, not what others think it ought
This poem will be munificent . . .
Will give because so much has been given to it
Will do because so much has been done for it
Will be able to sit down because so many others have
But this poem can not sit still for long
Because this poem has been disenfranchised . . .
This poem was told there is no longer a need
For affirmative action
only to have it replaced with definitive inaction
This poem cast a vote in Florida,
only to be told that it did not count
This poem observed its commander in thief, fly over rising waters in the Lower Ninth Ward
just to keep his feet from getting wet
This poem watched its country expand our “melting pot” to include all types of ingredients,
Then scrape the black off the bottom of the pan . . .
and send it back to Haiti on a raft
This poem has been pulled over for being DWI
(drafted with intelligence)
This poem was profiled at Hartsfield Airport,
And made to take off it’s . . . blues.
This poem never planted any genus of Bush,
It’s not concerned with whom you marry,
Nor does it desire to trade the blood of young soldiers for oil, but look what it got
This poem wants 2 b a revolutionary . . .