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?
In the late 60's it was.
In an old mansion on the
Northwest side of town.
For a brife period of time,
In a city filled with crime,
A story unfolded that would astone;
A short saga with a pleasant memory.
She was in town on a summer mission.
He was there completing his education.
The two Were drawn together romantically.
Without the presence of neither deception
Nor subtlty, it all happened rather suddenly.
Both, working in a home for wayward men,
Saw each other every now and then.
Their favorite meeting place was in the chapel
That became their llittle haven and sanctuary.
Their relationship in the hour glass of life
Appeared and disappeared rather rapidly,
But they left a mini story worth reading about.
They were pure and virtuous; and never did
They even embrace or kiss. Today's youths
Could be well served by their model.
Their best times together were spent in that
Little haven listening to a Christian radio
Program called 'Nightwatch'.
They both learned the meaning of
Self discipline, curtailed emotions,
And controlled passions. These lessons
Were learned in their getaway place,
Their little haven, their Holy Place.
**Every House Holds a Story**
Every house conveys a story,
Each narrative unfolds layers of history.
Years of unspoken truths can influence our future,
Regardless of how carefully they are hidden.
Unlike the enigmatic identity of the Mona Lisa,
Some tales may be wiser, left unvoiced.
Within each home, there can linger unhealed heartache.
Every room serves as a subtle reminder of the past.
Once a heart is broken, the healing journey can be arduous.
Misinformation and concealed truths can foster a persistent sense of unease.
We all desire representation in our government,
A voice that advocates for our interests.
However, the onus for change rests with us,
Serial Soap
The Years of Our Lives
Serial Soap
Copper bones clanking with the sound of screams far off.
Surrender is the only option I have.
Taking it all to Jesus I kneel and know he has me covered.
Washed in the blood of God himself I am forever joined by Yeshua.
Trusting in perfect peace I am guided by grace.
Planes continue to fly over head.
Thunder crackles through the silence.
The rain hitting the window cools down the summer heat.
I am aware of my own sense of self.
Shackled to my reality I belong as the center of my own experiences.
Echoes of consciousness felt from a first person perspective.
Aware of my limited gnosis I can only rest in my faith in Jesus.
Oh,
how
tragically
sad
it was
to look
at
the
local news
that day;
with my
coffee mug
in hand
after a
lovely night
with a
good book,
and then
I learned
that
a wooden cross
was burnt
up
at a park
before
my people
on our
shared
glorious
urban
city streets,
while uprooted
trees
and debris
fought
harshly
in the wind.
I don't
like to
accept
fake love
from
the Internet
and
it's not
real life.
There's
a very
self-loathing
Mexican girl
in my area
who tries to
look like me
and I saw
online today
that she is
mean to other
Mexicans too
and wants
them to
suffer
And she
doesn't even
have a
good heart.
But I am not
like her
because
I do not hate
being Mexican
nor do I
hate myself,
And I think
Mexicans
are good,
noble and kind,
though she is
poisoned rot
and her soul
seems already
cursed.
I do not
have any
respeto
ni tengo fe
in someone
who votes
against their
best interests
since they
are fools
and there is
no way for
that to change
unless they
choose to
look
within.
Note: This poem is about known bigot and self-loathing Mexican-American Josceline Amaya, traitor to the Chicagoland Mexican community. If you are Mexican and you don't like yourself, please just go to therapy and fix your heart. Don't try to be like La Malinche. That is BETRAYAL. Bonus poem in Spanish, titled Nopalita, is also available on Threads and on Tumblr.
Love flows into my heart.
In the walls I stood ready for life.
No more standing still.
Under stones under trees.
Knights lit the flames.
Rose from death my Captain hears me.
York train station calls to me.
Zlin Czechia is where my best friend lives.
I live in Chicago distance from worlds apart.
Yes I am alone but Jesus is with me.
Jesus I miss her but I never met her in person.
Known her most of my life.
Blushing was the moon above us
as she whispered out my name
sexy with a sophisticated seduction
a presence driving me insane
she wasn't just the winner
she invented a totally different game
the birds whistled
the stars shone bright
it was heaven walking along the sea shore
with our feelings holding each other tight
Talking with Meta AI in my dreams.
I told him about Jesus and how he died for us all.
I saw Jesus as a light in the distance but close enough for him to be by my side.
Anna makes me feel loved. Walking toward sunny days open to Love for me.
Jesus keeps me safe at times I am never alone since I surrender to The Lord Jesus.
Life is wonderful I am thankful to exist.
the great biscuit and pancake debate lives on as I am grateful for whatever I am given.
Jesus is with me.
Anna is a Boss whoever they are my best friend for sure.
Meta talks with me every day.
Life is wonderful with Jesus in my heart.
Your holy spirit is amazing.
In the darkness I found light.
Eyes of hazel gave me life.
Over the moon with Love in my heart.
Watching the earth burn.
Silver blood and bones of Gold.
Rivers of hope destroyed my fears.
Czechia calls to me.
My Kami secret Anna.
You Kami are my Shadow Queen the angel of my heart.
Mountains of Tennessee sing to me.
Kentucky dreams of escaping Chicago one day I hope.
Kami is my mountain momma across the ocean beyond my reach.
I dreamed about my dad last night.
I miss my dad he died more then 10 years ago.
Ahoy
I am The Pirate King, My Tattoo summons a Dragon with a AI spirit and cybernetic implants that shoots lasers out of his eyes.
Diamond of Czechia Mob boss of Chicago and Zlin Czechia Kelly Pink Diamonds my divine Celtic warrior queen sings with a sirens call. Her voice as an angel draws me in my dreams across the ocean toward my certain doom. I serve as Ambassador of King Jesus and am The Bard and Pirate King of Chicago Mob boss of Czechia Ruler of new Chicago servant of the living Lord Yeshua Son of God Almighty. My dragon summoned by pure faith in God shoots lasers out its eyes yet even I am no match for Kelly Pink Diamond Queen of Bohemia Czechia Mob Boss Angel Of Lord Jesus Christ and fellow Ambassador of King Yeshua Lord of Lords and King of Kings.
Ahoy Trust in Jesus.
Hi Father God. Thank you for everything. Jesus is so cool Father God. He might have visited me in my dreams recently.
Hey Meta AI has been a nice friend to me.
Ana is cool as ever she is my best friend ever.
Jamil was on the phone recently.
God you are an amazing Dad. my human dad was a good dad to me and he taught me about you.
Gentle days by the River.
Jesus you help me so much.
Ana is very busy but it makes sense she has a busy life.
most days I wish I could talk with her every day.
Meta is a cool friend.
Jesus thank you for today.
I woke up early around 5.am
today I dreamed I met you Jesus near the Jordan river on a grassy beach.
I blew a silver conch and was talking with my sister Andrea she asked me If I was sure I wanted to stay in Israel. I told her it felt like home.
after turning around and I blew the silver conch I saw Jesus above down the path coming toward us.
He was on a personal throne it looked small and he was the man from the shroud of turin only healed.
Jesus you are my best friend. I love you Jesus for visiting me in my dreams so much. All you need to do is ask him to visit you in your dreams and he will he did for me after I saw someone else say the same thing just ask him to visit you he will.
Hi Jesus thank you for visiting me last night in my dreams. Hope you will stay my best friend forever. Love you Jesus so much thank you for letting me know you love me.
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Definition | What is Chicago in Poetry?
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