Long Black african amerme Poems
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Caucasion-Americans Please Don't Get Offended...This Is Purely Fictional
Doin backbreaking labor in the scorching sun
Stopping only to glance at my wife and son
I need to get back to work so I can get done
Or one of the White Devils will introduce me to the shotgun
Picking all this darn cotton
The stench in the air is rotten
I haven't bathed in two weeks, so easily I have forgotten
Like both my patience and will to live, my body is getting thin
Hunger telling my stomach and heart that my life will soon end
I should make an escape attempt, but where will I begin
How many miles is the lake from here: 10 x 10
My people sorely mistreated, the Blacks I mean
Everybody sharing peace, prosperity and power is what I dream
Or is that what I nightmare
To share with Whites how do I dare
If all of them died out I wouldn't even care
All I can think about now is the sweat waterfalling from my curly hair
Well I meant nappy
I mean seriously, don't we all deserve to be happy
Maybe in the future this cotton will be used to make a white shirt
I wouldn't be able to wear one because the whiplashes on my back hurt
It sounds crazy but I wonder if a month will be dedicated to ***** History
I'm out of my mind, that sounds like a load of bull to me
Here comes a Devil, ready to put me out of my mind literally
He hits me with the butt of the shotgun, I fall to my knees miserallbly
Rage reared inside me as I want to take the pump gauge out of his hands and put him out of
his misery
I want to be free, Lord I'm tired of this mystery
Then he has the audacity to spit in my face
One eye open I see my son's brains blown all over the place
Killing colored people is a sport to you Devil
I got the dirt to your grave right on my shovel
So I hit his gut so viscious
The look on his face: priceless yet suspicious
Slowly he fell to the ground
The gun was down
I rushed to my wife and four others and told them not to make a sound
100 yards behind us I heard big booms
Elated at the possibility of being free so soon
I disappeared into the darkness like a raccoon....
Fellow African-Americans Please Don't Get Offended...This Is Purely Fictional
...Sitting comfortably in the shade, I'm trying to relax
Muscles aching from whipping 20 blacks on their backs
Teach them White Power
For the last 2 hours
Had to get some air because the stench of them is sour
I could offer them a bath, but they don't deserve one
They disobey, get bathed with bullets from a shot-gun
Exactly how the world should be, the Colored are slaves
They won't dare run away, who's that brave
This world ran by Whites
Other races have no rights
No disputes, disagreements, arguments, no fights
We spit on them for slacking on the job
Teasing them with a fishing hook in hand, on the end is a corn on the cob
We should start a revolution, the KKK
Is the force necessary, we have control of the blacks anyway
The Ku Klux Klan, yea, the name sounds good to me
Told mother the Lord put slaves on this Earth for you and me
Hear their screeches in the air
I don't even care
Killing their families because of complexion, is that fair?
Of course it is, because we thrive in segregation
Kill em without hesitation
Raping the pretty black girls so I don't need masturbation
The ones that dare be rebellious, we lynch them, hang them from trees
We are the Masters we love to be pleased
Like bringing the colored on ships from across the waters
The joy and pleasure of seperating mothers, fathers, and daughters
If we have a bad day, we can just line their tails up for slaughter
Give them food, why even bother?
Nickname them raccoons
It gives me giggles to know some will die from starvation soon
Ruthless brutality
Make them feel reality
Cold-hearted and merciless
For these raccons we are love-less
Helter Skelter is what I follow
Which is more than our motto
It's a way of life
So I grab my knife
Cockiness engulfs me as I approach a coon's wife
To me she kinda purty
My wife is gonna hurt me
I touch her left arm, she swung the shovel
I got a scrape
Should I rape her, I have a better idea instead...
(Rip) Off with her head
We have come a long way we have been fighting for centuries and decades to get
where we are.
Jim Crow and the Segregated south couldn't keep us down.
We fought to be equal by marching the streets of the south all the way to D.C.
Slavery may have tried to keep us down and make us give up.
But we held our heads up high and looked to the sky and Prayed to God to help us.
And he did he saw us through he made us stronger it was another's day journey
and we were glad about it.
My heritage enlightens me it inspires me to be a better person and to be my best.
My culture motivates to want more to educate the younger generation.
From the plantation to the white house we have come a long way.
To see the future through and have a brighter day.
The south thought they had us bound but they were wrong.
The Lord knew what he had in store for us all along.
He showed us the light............
And kept us through the night.
People like the Reverend Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson are keeping the legacy
alive .
By making sure that we know our rights and get the respect we deserve.
I am enlightened by what Martin Luther, Malcolm X and Frederick Douglass did.
They were motivated even though they came from different backgrounds.
My ancestors pulled through so I could see something unique and divine.
Segregation turned into intergration Jim Crow evolved into the background paving
the way for Barack Obama to become president.
If only Jim Crow knew he paved the way for civil rights.
For marches upon Washington D.C. and for Lunch Counter Sit-ins.
All those hymns and Justice he paved the way for Rosa Parks to say enough is
enough.
To not give up her seat and to be treated as equal citizens.
My heritage and my culture breathes within me and I must keep the legacy going
strong.
All my days long.
Form:
Sing me a old down-home song;
Sing to me some blues.
Syncopate the drums, sing loud and long.
Sing to me some blues.
Tell of people, from a homeland ripped,
Packed like sardines, cross the ocean shipped,
Remember to me bodies broken, bloodied and whipped.
Sing to me some blues.
Sing to me a cotton-field song;
Sing to me some blues.
Moan the story of a people done wrong.
Sing to me some blues!
Taken to the block, rubbed down with oil,
Sold like a beast to bear burdens and toil,
Tell how our blood watered King Cotton’s soil.
Sing to me some blues.
Sing me one of them old slave-timey songs;
Sing to me some blues.
The field hands’ chant and the pickers’ moan;
Sing to me some blues.
How the children were sold while, mother’s did plead,
Of how we were raped and made to bleed,
When dying was just one way to get freed.
Sing to me some blues.
Sing me a work dawn to dark song.
Sing me a little blues.
Make that bass walk like a sharecropper, steady and strong.
Sing me some hardworking blues-
About how the ledger book replaced the chain;
About how the labor was all in vain;
The more debt paid, the more debt gained.
Sing to me some blues.
Sing to me, a freedom flight song.
Sing to me, some blues.
Tell of a cry for freedom so strong!
Sing to me, some blues.
Sing about no longer moving to the back seat.
Sing about sitting at the counter to eat.
Sing of bombs in the churches and dogs in the street.
Sing to me some blues.
Sing to me, my people’s song!
Sing to me some blues!
Sing of the struggle that still goes on
Sing to me, some blues.
Tell me the story of four hundred years,
Tell of the losses, the pain and the fears,
Sing loud of strength forged from suffering and tears.
Sing to me some blues….
Play yo harmonica, son….
This Body
Those on the bottom can see but can’t act,
Those on the top can act, but can’t see,
O Lord, please free me from this body of Death, America.
Dear Lord, How am I to stay composed, as the very fabric of justice decomposes from
beneath me?
My footsteps are weighted down by the sounds of my ancestors screaming for my freedom, as
they realized that their deliverance was only in the life to come?
Am I to wait until the life to come?
Like some passive animal, always turning by backside to be flogged by the excruciating
hypocrisy of white supremacy,
You ask me to hold to your precepts, you ask me to hold to your law of love,
And yet for me it is like Atlas, bearing the weight of my oppressor’s ignorance, all the
while attempting to free them from their codependency on my subjugation,
Even for those who see, their loss is still their gain, Privilege,
But for me, loss is the sound of riotous rage burning the streets of Chicago,
And yet my Lord,
Faith is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things unseen,
I must believe, even as my circumstances bludgeon me from the inside out,
I must believe that you have a plan.
We need not loans, but a redefinition of what it means to prosper?
Can you grant us at least this my lord?
A vision of repentance in which top and bottom begin to fade away beneath the sound of
righteous equality?
If we can just touch the hem of your garment?
If we can just touch the hem of your garment, then we shall be healed.
And this body will know the sublime language of harmony.
Lord God, do not free me from this body of death, America.
For in my freedom, my brethren will still suffer.
Rather, free this body from its insanity.
So that we all may sleep and dream soundly.
Form:
Black History Month is recognized almost everywhere;
I’d watch shows like Roots but didn’t care.
Slaves sold from one master to another;
Separated from mother, father, sister and brother.
On the plantations picking cotton;
Praying to God they won’t be forgotten.
Black people sitting at the back of the bus;
Wondered why no one would put up a fuss.
What’s wrong with you people, why not fight back?
Mom said they stayed humble to keep families intact.
The dogs, hoses, sticks and stones;
They never retreated to be left alone.
Can’t drink from the fountain, get an education;
Little Rock Nine opened the eyes of the nation.
News bytes of riots and protests and sit-ins;
Still uninterested because where do I fit in?
The 50’s and 60’s were for civil rights;
So I can live in a city that ends with the word “Heights”.
That’s in the past, I’d say, then channel surf;
Something so subtle but powerful was what I saw first.
A black man and white woman dance on the floor;
Why didn’t this program affect me before?
Whoopi and Barbara share a desk on The View;
I had to look twice like it was something new.
Oprah and Dr. Phil share a friendly kiss;
Different races now celebrate wedded bliss.
Jackie Robinson played amongst hisses and boos;
Jordan and James are making sports news.
Those who came before me were hung from a rope;
On my 18th birthday, I will register to vote.
Rosa went to jail because of sore feet;
When I ride the bus I take the front seat.
They marched on Washington years ago;
So I can be a doctor, a lawyer, or CEO.
Carl B. Stokes, Cleveland’s mayor in 68;
Will it be Obama in 2008?
I finally realized what the struggles were for;
Now I Get It even more!
Form:
Black History Month is recognized almost everywhere;
I’d watch shows like Roots but didn’t care.
Slaves sold from one master to another;
Separated from mother, father, sister and brother.
On the plantations picking cotton;
Praying to God they won’t be forgotten.
Black people sitting at the back of the bus;
Wondered why no one would put up a fuss.
What’s wrong with you people, why not fight back?
Mom said they stayed humble to keep families intact.
The dogs, hoses, sticks and stones;
They never retreated to be left alone.
Can’t drink from the fountain, get an education;
Little Rock Nine opened the eyes of the nation.
News bytes of riots and protests and sit-ins;
Still uninterested because where do I fit in?
The 50’s and 60’s were for civil rights;
So I can live in a city that ends with the word “Heights”.
That’s in the past, I’d say, then channel surf;
Something so subtle but powerful was what I saw first.
A black man and white woman dance on the floor;
Why didn’t this program affect me before?
Whoopi and Barbara share a desk on The View;
I had to look twice like it was something new.
Oprah and Dr. Phil share a friendly kiss;
Different races now celebrate wedded bliss.
Jackie Robinson played amongst hisses and boos;
Jordan and James are making sports news.
Those who came before me were hung from a rope;
On my 18th birthday, I will register to vote.
Rosa went to jail because of sore feet;
When I ride the bus I take the front seat.
They marched on Washington years ago;
So I can be a doctor, a lawyer, or CEO.
Carl B. Stokes, Cleveland’s mayor in 68;
Barack Obama in 2008?
I finally realized what the struggles were for;
Now I Get It even more!
Form:
do you notice the scars on my wrists
the tears on my face
when you get me so pissed
when im locked in this place
throw out the key
im trapped in this cage
when you torture and tease
when all i need
is to be released
dont you see it in my eyes
when you tell me these lies
cant you hear it in my voice
when you try to shout over the noise
and then i hit you
i snapped, whos that dude?
i dont know myself anymore
and damn it hurt to the core
your cry radiated
im sad you even associated
with the person who hit you
who screamed "WHAT DO I DO?!"
i swore i'de never hit em'
never do anything to make em' cry
now i watch you leave
with a bruise
and with me to loose.
please come back, i love you too much
to let you walk away
i told you this was my fault
look my in the face
next time i will aim my punches at the couch
next time, god, there will not be a next time
all i know is if you ever try to leave again
im gonna strap you in the car and push it off a bridge.
i am not going through this again with you,
you have no clue
what i had to do
to get to where i am
i hate myself when im with you
why do you need me like i need you
your like a drug,
the dust under the rug
it tends to stay where it is
even though i neglected you
i just did not know what to do
you were in my way
thats all i can say
but now is the last
i know i said that last time but i am telling you the truth
yea i said that too last time
but this time its legit.
its no excuse, i know that too
but is you knew what happened in my past, you would understand.
so this is a god bye
my love.
my life
and thattoo will end sooner than you know...
Why can't I run(Sarina Is Her Name)
by kierra boyd
Why can't I run away from this dream that I am living.
Why can't I cut away the pain?
The blood that spills from the wounds of darkness.
Are the tears that full a fire that forms a ocean of sadness?
A hole that is deep in my soul.
Why can't I wash the dirt away.
Its like my soul can't be washed clean.
My heart have been breaken taken away in the nightmares I live.
It's a hole that has been put into my chest.Where the nights are lonely and cold.
Where sceams grow louder each and every min,of every hour,of every second,of everyday.
A song that has been written I can no longer sing along,my voice has been beaten and sold
to the evil that has taken over my soul.
My mind is wounded and the pain has come to never leave.
As I see the souls that have been losted I have become empty with no one.
Til I saw the light with her smile,her joy,and her words.
A bond has been formed.God as send her to lead me out the darken place I've have called
home.
Her hands shines like gold and I see the light in me once again.
She has made me come alive again.I can no longer see the pain that I once knew.
She's the angel that God has send me from above,and I shall not be mad or depressed.
She has saved me dear god.
I will never ask why can't I run again.Sarina is her name and she saved me from myself and
the darkness.
Form:
It took me a while to finally let these words ooze from my soul,
I still could not quite express how truly-deeply esteemed I was
To see him walk across that stage,
Take that oath,
Dance that dance,
And smile that smile,
Mr. President Barack Obama...
I replay in my head images of marches, sit-ins, stand-ups,
Beatings, hosings, lynchings, maulings, burnings,
Crosses, lunch counters, bus seats, bathrooms,
My God, my God, my God...
My grandma, and her mother, and her mother's mother,
Their struggles and pains
And finally I can say
President Obama.
I want to cry but the tears are so deep
in my soul,
All I can do is exhale and be moved to total and complete
silence...
Judged not by the color of his skin, buy by the content of his character...
Mr. President Obama.
And now the me I see says there is no reason to not overcome
a struggle,
And the you I see says you can make it through anything,
Life's rough sometimes,
But I'm tough sometimes...
And you proved that Mr. President Obama.
This country is now my country
This land is now my land,
The red, white and blue is for me and you
Mr. President Obama.
Take no pride if you vow to make no change,
Don't raise your fist,
Don't chant the name,
Our people worked so hard,
The time finally came,
Obammmaaaaa! Mr. President.