Val Brooklyn Rogers Blk Panther Poet Prose

Naturally

My prose my soul i hold my purpose
DisEnchanted. Discontented disheartened
Melancholy me naturally you think  that
We would have learned from previous

Mistakes  there're wars after wars after many
since  the dawn of time there are
Numbers  millions engulfed by sweeping 
Famine so somber it's a natural fact: when a 
Tree falls in the forrest it doesn't make a

Sound if there's no one there to hear it
Of course it still makes a sound,  how would
We know for sure?  Have FAITH  The
Sound will not be silence  and some of us
Live  happily  day by day with  some 

Laughter and some tears  salt being
Tastes on strange lips never tasted tears
Before  sobbing and weeping may over
Come some but we stand bold and fill
Our handkerchiefs with hope after we

Dry our cheeks of tears 
This is the heritage of we all  live and
Let live  actually there're words 
Hardly spoken instead hummed in low tones
The creaking of an old lonesome home

Acoustics  and echoes in the long hall
Literally it is the HAUNTING OF ME screaming from
The roof tops lift every voice and sing until you 
Are breathless until they hear my prose my soul
I hold my purpose,  disenchanted, discontent

Disheartened me naturally natural take
The fire

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