Flying flag
striped flag
red flag
white flag
blue flag
resilient flag
American flag
Dock of the Cosmic Bay
Did Sun Ra think in holographic time/
past and future turning on one wheel/ Saturn ringing like a cymbal beneath Marshall Allen’s horn and its cosmic cry/
The Arkestra boarded freight trains of sound/ smoking rails through midnight skies/
robes bright with Egyptian constellations/ saxophones splitting the dark into day gigs of wonderment/
Then Otis rose from the Georgia gospel/
His voice is rough as rope/ warm as bread/
singing from the Dock of the Bay where silence waits/ and every wave remembers the dead/
One built a vessel out of thunder and space time/
One made heartbreak a soulful testimony/
Both knew Earth was only a classroom/
Space is the place/ Soul time music was the reason why/
When time has officially ended/the stars lean close to hear what/
Sun Ra's Arkestra drifting across the water, a cosmic chord dissolving fear/
Space is the place/
Otis Redding's Soul music is the way/
And love/ the oldest spacecraft/
carries us beyond today.
You waited in line
Cause your we're
Next
That's an idea
l situation I am told
What shiney ain't
For me me
Cause I am dull
And spent
Excuse me Sir
Is that gold
I reckon I 'll
Just mossey
Along quote'en
Them words to
That cuss word song
By the way
All that glitter ain't gold
What want from me
Cause he so po'
Get his checks from
His chore
That ain't no money
That's tween me and you
Talking rich and acting poor
Got your Gal out acting like-ah
Whore: talking bout
place we go knee high I q!
Ya'll know the sequence y'all
Meet her in spring
She pregnant in fall
Pappie someone's else's
Niegh I go I ate ooh ooh!
That's how it is
Ain't nothings changed
Oh the ancient
Still arrange
Talking in tongues when
Sunday morning comes
Freaking fellas
By the time the service
Is through
Snitching in like gals
Current and future bride
Tryna make everyone say
Quasi motto neigh IQ
From childhood
To adulthood
Many things we faced
Before we overcome
Emerging who we are today
Some mistakes
We don't want to repeat
Because it keeps us in the pit.
Mistake repeated
Are lessons forfeited
Mercy after forgiveness
Is not useless
All we practiced
Because we ain't perfect
Rapid growth our goals
Always finding a way to be on top
We don't want to be
A result of our society
Because it comes with insults
Standing out wasn't easy
But we always hold
Tight to our dreams
Steadily believing even when
The odds are against us
That one day we'll triumph.
I do the washing
i don't say anything
I half to cook
& I wont talk back
The mom
mame'
the wife
Ms. Sheila
I do it all
every night
everyday
it never gets old
when I'm nervous
I take pills
he hits the wall
It never fails
He's dad
He's mad as hell
He wont stop
he is a husband
I carry the rings
I needle alone
Where are the kids
in the rom?
We must accomplish more
We are never separated
when will it stop
when he is gone'
That's when ill be gone
gone home with my mamma'
The Last Poets
“When the revolution comes,”
Politicians whispered sweet lies,
promising dreams that were never theirs,
while streets echoed with dreams denied,
and voices drowned in blood-stained hope.
Economies built on the backs of the weak,
wealth for the few, while many stayed silent,
coins of gold pooled, but hearts went cold,
hands reached out but never united.
The Last Poets rhymes like Hymns
echoing in alleys,
fingers snap,
feet tap,
words meet the pulse,
the Congo thump lifts hearts,
raw and real,
hip-hop’s roots grow deep—
But what has changed,
in this swirling maze?
Do we still speak the truth,
shout over sirens,
dream beyond the neon flash,
with wide eyes,
still fighting, still asking,
for justice in our sound,
each voice a note,
every story a song?
I am a proud American,
Nothing more, nothing less,
No tags to wear,
No labels to confess.
I am not blind to history,
Nor unaware of our mistakes.
Like nations older than our own,
We've known the risks that failure makes.
Yet through the trials of our past,
We learned, endured, and found a way.
To rise above our broken roads
And build a stronger path each day.
History is not a chain to drag,
Nor a script we must obey.
It is a compass in our hands,
To guide us forward on our way.
I know what this country means to me,
A truth no one can redefine.
Not by titles, not by degrees,
Nor by a different view than mine.
So let me stand where I believe,
Without demands that I conform.
Leave me be, and walk in peace,
No anger, only calm and warmth.
For I am a proud American,
Nothing more, nothing less;
A citizen of hope and freedom,
Without a need for anything else.
I’m just an American, and proud to be!
By James C. Chapman
American wasteland.
It’s a party you’re invited to.
Plan on unstable conditions.
We put incompetence before security,
and disguise your losses as little things.
The corruption's open, unmistakable and court approved.
We’ve undone the shackles of constitutional checks,
and we’re steadily enlarging our jurisdictions.
Independence will be costly, but dependence is invoiced too.
We’ll watch the social thesis melt, as resources dwindle,
and everything becomes more expensive.
If you’re still uncertain of the issues,
you may have the ears of an ass.
You’re all-in whether you know it or not,
and the canaries have stopped chirping.
Is democracy still a plausible success story?
.
.
A song for this:
The Adults Are Talking by Mila Smith [E]
act like you know (feat. Muni Long) by Master Peace [E]
American cheese, if you please
Not Taiwanese or Japanese
Nothing Maltese or Vietnamese
American cheese, if you please
You say I must try Swiss Cheese
Lebanese and Nepalese
At Chanukah, ‘Monterey of Maccabees’
Farvoss?* American cheese, if you please *'What for?' (Yiddish)
But surely you’ll take a bite of Siamese
Portuguese, Pekinese or Paraguese
And how can you neglect Senegalese and Congolese
Not now. If you please, American cheese
Is our diner a narrow-minded provincial
Nisht!** ~ she’s old, a Jewish immigrant NYC election official **No! Not! (Yiddish)
This is a message to the next generation
Take it slow now, one step at a time
But don't remain stagnant
There's always the right time
To do anything
When the time is not right, you have to wait
That's why patience is the key to success.
Whatever you're doing
Take your time
Don't let pressure, push you out of line
When you rush it
You might be depressed or you'll live in anxiety
Those you're trying to impress
Won't give you a dime, so take your time.
I'm talking out of experience
To react is not to act
Things forced, are forgery
They never last
If you no endure, you no go enjoy
Isaiah 60 vs 22
When the time is right
I the Lord will make it happen
Be patient; take your time.
A hydro engine, Myer made'
It put car makers in the shade.
He was soon to die
Cause filed, vauge suspected.'
Just a ( stroke of bad luck.?)
Or murder directed.?
OF DRIED AND TIRED SEEDS
Having failed
To turn
Our vineyard
Into a graveyard
Of raisins in sun,
They now
Seek to pluck away,
Ripe black plums
To grave the soil
With wrinkled,
Laden prunes:-
(Guess
they
failed
the
watermeleon
lesson):
Earthly green;
Blood-red flesh;
Multiple black seeds:-
Indeed, we are
Children of
The Father
Of the sun
And the Son:
Fertilized
And energized
By the
Cosmic spirit–
Resurrecting
Generations
Of dried
And tried seeds–
Germinating
Liberated
Blooming
Freedom flowers
In the sun:
Bouqueting
Thanks
To the
Son:-
royal maroon moon
topped with mountain marshmallow ~
cherries jubilee
(August Full Moon –Anishinaabe)
Lake Ontario
great lake
beautiful lake
in Huron Wyandot
Ontarí’io
names but thunder
they merely rumble
intentions that echo
lake of shining waters
beautiful water
in Iroquois Mohawk
Oniatari:io
names are how we honour
reflecting our own light
our little wave
our tide our turn
to appreciate this life
OF DRIED AND TIRED SEEDS
Having failed
To turn
Our vineyard
Into a graveyard
Of raisins in sun,
They now
Seek to pluck away,
Ripe black plums
To grave the soil
With wrinkled,
Laden prunes:-
(Guess
they
failed
the
watermeleon
lesson):
Earthly green;
Blood-red flesh;
Multiple black seeds:-
Indeed, we are
Children of
The Father
Of the sun
And the Son:
Fertilized
And energized
By the
Cosmic spirit–
Resurrecting
Generations
Of dried
And tried seeds–
Germinating
Liberated
Blooming
Freedom flowers
In the sun:
Bouqueting
Thanks
To the
Son:-
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.