Long American life Poems
Long American life Poems. Below are the most popular long American life by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long American life poems by poem length and keyword.
Watching in amazement, as they grunt and grow and cry
Learning from their mothers voice, as they see and hear and try
This whole world is new to them, too young to reason why
Just walking free in safety, feeling sun and wind and sky
Life is ever changing from the moment of one's birth,
learning and adapting to their future life on earth
On this porch, I'm standing watching many kittens play
As my mind drifts to the future, hoping there will come a day
As I enter the fall of life, I dream that I will see
my children grown, with their own, alive and growing free
As you seek the why in life, take time to have your dreams
You'll see the greatest joys in life aren't toys or homes or schemes
The why of things you're seeking may not be yours to understand
I found my greatest joy in life, playing with grand-children in the sand
Tupac Shakur said where he stating 'the word' he means Never Ignorance Getting Goals
Accomplished not the meaningless and powerless word which was put on a people.
Never
Ignorance
Getting
Goals
Accomplished
So from Tupac's formula I have this to further give true power to the word and give meaning.
No
I'm
Gonna
Get
Achievements
R.I.P Tupac Shakur also known as Makaveli one of the greatest poet's to put pen to paper,
and then speak it out to the world with the heart, understanding and passion of an African-
American civil rights leader. Tupac you are still missed but you live on in your fans, students
and love ones, so now you're a Pharaoh who will live on to the end of time.
Just jumping in.
Everything comes to a halt.
The first few moments don't seem as bad.
Depending on length.
The line of cars.
In a sea of metal
Something wow happens.
Metal crashes into metal.
Causally passing by.
Everyone is okay.
Making sure to see what happened
They drop speed.
The police attempt to make it through to the scene.
Little to no debris.
No never-mind to the expensive cars brought to a halt.
The Mercedes Benz, the Porsche out of place slow moving along.
A Black Nissan Sentra with two kids playing in the backseat.
The other side is free to go as they please.
Compared to most places this is nothing.
Try New York. Atlanta. Texas to name a few.
You just jump in, moving from point A to B.
Life is admittedly too short to walk a great distance.
A two car pileup a few miles ahead.
Bumper to bumper no one gives space to breathe.
A Cadillac honks in frustration.
The Black Nissan honks back in attempt to get over.
Inching closer to maneuver it's way in front.
After everyone takes a glance at the pileup.
Traffic is back to normal.
The two kids continue to play like nothings happened
In a way this sort of feels like school.
One moment we're curiously writing and passing notes to each other.
The next we're caught and sent off to detention.
I never knew which box you checked.
Yes.
No.
Maybe kinda sort of.
There's a lesson to be learned from all of this.
Which one I am really not sure.
I wasn't paying attention.
Instead of studying.
Here I am writing another note.
It never really occurred to me.
That while the teacher is teaching.
Filling us with what passes the time.
Life happens behind his back.
The context of how competitive everything is.
In retrospect.
What did you get for number 2.
A.
B.
Or C
Which answer dictates how fast he turns around.
One day soon we'll both know
I wonder who I am sometimes, what seems to be a universal phenomenon. As everyone remains looking to be someone other than themselves, because those who are themselves are persecuted and dreams hung on the cross by society.
But as I wonder the colorful atmosphere of those around me tend to judgingly remind me exactly who I am and what I’m capable of accomplishing.
Because they assume before they even get the chance to know me, my story, why I act, talk, or dress different, why I smell another fragrance, perceive, taste, and feel the world inversely.
Under my skin they shoot before they ask, a trigger finger itching as the deadly explosion blast piercing the body of another innocent soul. Slavery is illegal now but we still hang.
Hang pictures up of loved ones taken through an unjust act, if you listen closely you can still hear the sound of invisible shackles as I walk and fall to my death…click clack, clic clac, click…a heart beating but dead now the heart no longer beats…
Under my skin if I put my hoodie up I might as well wear a mask, to hide the sinister agenda people assume I carry. Sometimes I just want some shade to block out all the negative rain on a summer day.
And when I succeed they assume I’m cheating, because my plateau has no high point or high ground. I’m a flat line, dead to success, and they put me here.
It’s a little misleading when all your hard work just falls off the deep end, because they look at you as if you have a red hand or you’re the bandit.
And if I bought it I could never own it because under my skin without acting I’ve already sinned.
How can you win when you can’t control the end?
All I can say is never stop praying and keep grinding until the end, because God controls the future. So never let someone else control you through “You cant’s or you’ll Nevers.”
P.S. I am black lives, THIS IS JUST A POST SCRIPT.
Written By: D. Collins 12/13/16
Many Ganstas have plenty of love to give.
They just chose another path to live.
The love they dish out is so often tough.
Because the life they lived was rugged and rough.
They raise sons and daughters better than the next.
Some of the greatest fathers you’ve ever met.
They teach hygiene and value of the books.
Command respect by dawning a certain look.
For those who have a problem staying in their lane.
Some of us are Gangstas to the grave.
All a Gangsta asks is that you put in work.
Stay in touch, and forgive their dirt.
Circumstances dictated what they became.
That does not mean they don’t feel pain.
Just like any other, love is all they crave.
If it is not received, be Gangsta to the grave.
Death by misadventure.
That is sadly how
most Black lives
wrongfully and unnecessarily
lost at the hands of police officers
are written off these days.
It's become the new normal.
Yet another Black life
has been snuffed out
while in the custody
of White cops.
It all played out
in broad daylight.
People out on the street
watched one
committing murder.
Despite repeated pleas
from onlookers, he remains
heartlessly indifferent,
kneeling
on a black man's neck,
blocking his airway,
putting over 100 lbs of pressure
on his spinal cord!
Who does that?
A man of color is pleading
for his life...and air.
"I can't breathe!" "I can't breathe!"
Hmm, why does that sound familiar?
Meanwhile his back-ups
are standing around
doing nothing,
saying nothing;
obviously complicit
in George Floyd's murder
Their punishment?
Loss of employment.
That's it? Seriously!?
Sorry, Minneapolis
Accountability
doesn't go far enough here!
From the looks of it
you've diagnosed
and dismissed
this senseless loss
of an African-American life
as mere death by misadventure,
which is outrageous.
Those cops should be charged
with murder, Minneapolis!
It was murder.
You don't get away with it
just because
you wear a uniform,
just because
you've got connections,
just because
you're rich and powerful,
just because
you're Caucasian,
just because
you're Black.
Unjustified murder
is unjustified murder.
Their punishment must fit
their heinous crime.
Justice for George Floyd!
Justice for his grieving family!
Do more, Minneapolis!
Date written: 05/28/2020
Awake subconscious wake up, awaken to the Archangels evil ways in this world, awake to
the things wrong and missing from our modern day village’s, awake to see all humans as
one, wake up and disconnect the good souls from the bad, awake to set my course via the
sun, the moon and the stars. Awake so the mosaic can be placed back together again,
awake enabling I to travel 7 stages, awake Awaken the righteous in my soul and allow it to
shine like the sun, Awaken my righteous thoughts, to be spoke and felt like heat from the
sun or snow from the skies, Rise................ Awake................. Wake up..........
Tallan J Bent (c) 10/11/2010 01:11Hrs
We've torn down buildings, and built new ones
Yet we have no foundation.
We are illiterate to what we truly feel and breathe unless,
It is seen else where first.
It too is a reality that we've created.
This feeling that can only be described in Braille.
We too are restricted.
These bumps that go unnoticed.
The mumps in the crevice we band aid until it's too late.
We continue to tear down these fortresses of ourselves.
What concerns most is that I see myself in you.
The same love and laugh that become the building blocks that haults the storm.
Yet we reject each other due to the mentality of our environment.
With lack of understanding,
We fail to embrace choosing the cause and effect of all differential.
We seek to destroy forgetting what's important.
We work against each other doing more damage that good.
We need each other to further emancipation.
To build one another once this storm reaches peak.
As simple as it sounds it becomes more complex.
To build a new building on top shakey ground.
Everything must be cleared out.
The participation of presence
Granny said that all things have a seed
and that every seed produces its own
thing to be reaped: good or bad:-
At the time, it was hers and the bible study
lesson to be taught and remembered; however,
at that time I didn’t get the full allegorical meaning
of what they were saying: good or bad:-
Now, at this time of grey hair and aged awareness,
I finally realize and know that we all scatter and sow
seeds—either to the flesh or to the spirit—and what
is reaped, is according to that which we freely sowed.
Now, as I look out over our urban fields, I
realize that many moons ago, syndrome-like
sowers of the flesh came like thieves in the night
and scattered their seeds of corruption everywhere.
Some fell onto the paved streets and were wheeled;
Some fell onto the sidewalks and were foot-crushed;
Some fell into the gutters and were washed away;
Some fell, however, into cracks and needled bushes:-
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black-on-Black crime
misery;
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black Families falling
apart;
From these seeds we’ve reaped Black apathy and its
depression;
From these seeds we’ve destroyed each other physically
and mentally;
From these seeds we’ve done the oppressors’ harvesting of
our demise.
Now is the time to re-plow our domestic fields with the
plow of the spirit;
Now is the time to rid our domestic fields of wind-blown
evil seeds;
Now is the time to take back the stolen they took from
our plowed rows;
Now is the time to rage defense against all forces that seek
to destroy us!
Come! Let us get ready Black people; the harvest season is
dawning;
Come! Let us get ready Black people; the harvest coming is
plentiful;
Come! Let us get ready Black people; time to take back the stolen
gift of freedom;
Come! Let us get ready Black people; freedom’s vision awaits its
due reality.
Come! Let us get ready Black people; reapers must be as equal as
is the harvest!