Long Blm Poems
Long Blm Poems. Below are the most popular long Blm by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blm poems by poem length and keyword.
Empty, that's all she felt
She hated the numbness that would blindly attack
She did so much for others
But she couldn't help herself
She carried the weight of being black
Where racism would slowly break her back
She couldn't even go to a hospital they'd probably throw her out
Calling her 'dramatic'
Saying she should go somewhere else
This is what would happen if a black girl dared to ask for help
They would shove hatred down her throat
Until It got so bad that she would throw it up
She would come to realise that the bitter taste that was left was trauma in her mouth
Maybe it's the reason why she had the urge to rip her insides out
The pain she lived each day
And the numbness she was left with at night
Was a constant battle that her and her people had to fight
All she ever wanted out of life
Was to help her people so she would write
Poems that spoke of the unspeakable
She knew it was risky, but she would be the light
A guide so they could have a better life
She wanted freedom for all her people
She would do anything to make sure they were treated equal
So she would make sure she held the system accountable
She knew it was impossible for anyone to stop her
Even if it meant pointing out each and every individual
That participated in an act so evil
She would bear the weight of the consequences
Of carrying what the world threw at her people
She would forever be her people's protector
Even if it meant it would kill her
She knew the toll of her surrender
Even if it Consumed every part of her
She knew the risks were worth it
Even if she drowned in the emptiness
The scars they don't see
Are the ones filled with the most painful memories
The ones you don't have to touch for them to hurt
Our bodies are permanent scars
A reminder of what was once ours
Now the use to start wars
They made it our prison of skin and bones
Condemning us to a life where silence is our home
An eternity of being alone
The scars they don't see
They couldn't have our skin
They couldn't steal our blackness
They didn't want to see us win
They made it their life goal to convince us
Our existence was a sin
It's why we try to be invisible
So they don't use us as a weapon
These are the type of scars
That constantly burn
The ones that yearn
For a life of freedom
For a life we don't have to earn
The ones that don't fade
That can't be tamed
The ones that demand to be named
The ones born from racism
Fueled by discrimination
And continued through oppression
The ones they make to teach us a lesson
If we ever decided to start a rebellion
The ones they carved by the decision
That we were the villains
When in reality their hands were the weapon
She died in a body she hated
Her last memory was watching herself get assassinated
How she died isolated
Surrounded by a see of white faces
Who stood there being witnesses
To something that would be talked about across the ages
Her blood had painted the pavement
The cop stood there admiring his painting
She died in a body she hated
She didn't even get to experience the freedom
Of what it's like to experience self love
All her life she had spent her time being critical
To her blackness
Not only was her time stolen
But she didn't get to experience the joy that comes from
A black girl taking control
And realising she was never the problem
It was the system
Who destroyed her self image
And finally realising her blackness was a superpower
She died in a body she hated
The cause of death: racism
She died in a body she hated
Not realising the only reason they hated was because of their envy
And jealous behaviour
She died in a body she hated
Without finally understand her full potential
She died in a body she hated
Before her life had even started
If our hair was on trial
And it was called to testify
And tell the truth
Of what the world put it through
It tells the stories
Of all the hairstyles
That it was
It starts with when it was cornrows
It takes the jury back to the fields
Where the blistering heat
Sucked the life out of it
But it tells us a secret
Kept hidden throughout history
Of stories Of survival
To send messages without the slave owners knowing
A way to escape and a form of rebellion
It helped with their freedom
It talks about the how it has been an afro
An act of radical expression
A form of resistance
To say you can't control us
But it also talks about how the system
Tried to silence its existence
And how the ignorant
Took it as an invitation
To touch it without permission
It then talks about all the different braids it was
How it was a form of creative expression
How it captured everyone's attention
In awe of its versatility
But also causing jealousy
This was apart of black legacy
The jury have made their decision
And gone through generations of history
To find our hair not guilty
They offer their apologies
Of the brutality
We endured throughout history
And for us this would be a victory
When the music died
It turned into police sirens
When the music died
It was like playing musical statues
Without the music
And forever stuck in silence
When the music died
It gave space for the gunshots
And the screams that came after it
When the music died
The soul died too
When the music died
The world stood still
The echoes of what could've been
When the music died
Tears fell from our eyes
The part of us that carried joy had died
When the music died
We mourned all the black lives
Held a funeral and said our goodbyes
When the music died
It wasn't a surprise
When silence filled the streets
Waiting for someone to speak
Waiting for the moment the black people
Who introduced colour to the world
To come back alive
When the music died
The streets cried
So black lives matter now we say
their worth now seen anew
While ages past we saw the day
we recognized so few.
But white lives matter too they said
and brown and yellow too
Yet centuries of hidden bled
‘neith toes of masters’ shoes
Enslavement built our country strong
in goods and crops and funds
A wealthy nation moved along
on backs of murdered sons.
We benefitted, all us here
no matter when arrived
The trials, the deaths of lives held dear,
paid forth while some survived.
To teach, to know our history past
to claim what we have done
to own the wrongs we’ve amassed
and could never be undone
In knowledge learned we find our quest
to right the wrongs we’ve made
To drop our shields, our acts confessed
True history now conveyed,
Now streets so loud, with anger, fear,
drums beat resounding clatter
How long ‘till we erupt in cheers
that every black life matters.
The rush of emotion stilled
The air once consumed by an undiluted energy
Now eerily quiet
Something lingers in the air
Justice?
No something louder but hidden
A violence so silent
It could go unnoticed by those who don't care to see
Those who choose wilful ignorance
The streets once crowded by protest
Now sits empty
Brought down from the high of purpose
Now left with an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness
The stench of death plagues the streets
Where once voice and life used to meet
Now only emptiness you will greet
Only thing left is failed legacies and echoes of long gone feet
The people who assumed these spaces
Just like the streets now empty
The promises of a better future
Dead like the movement
Despite having enough strength in their bodies to go on
Mourning takes their time of what's lost
Hoping to gain the strength to march again
But as the world continues to hate instead of help
Slowly losing their joy, the best parts of themselves
They are tired though not from the burning screams for justice
Nor the tiring marches
But through a slow realisation that the world they live in may never change
Not only did they colonise land
They colonised history too
They decided to make history a blank canvas
To start anew
By painting over the colour in white paint
Hiding the accomplishments of tge black race
They say slavery was in the past
We need to move on
But continously teach us about the holocaust
And when a black student ask 'what about my history'
They respond slavery is bad
But that is all the knowledge we need
Ignoring their pleas
To teach black history
The teacher turns their back
Not caring how they feel
The extent of teaching black history
Is learning about Martin Luther King
Who had a dream
What about Claudette Colvin
Who was to 'dark' to be seen
Or malcolm x
Who was so dangerous, so powerful
That he was the FBI's most wanted
For daring to speak
And making an impact
Holding the oppressors accountable
He knew he was going to die, he knew what they had planned
He had died taking a stand
We did not go through all of this just to be erased
Our pain and suffering will not be in vain
We will scream and shout, till you say our names
And for your crimes you will pay
You will not hide our history you tried to Bury in our graves
MY HEART SINKS, MY EYES WEEP
MY BRAIN EXPLODES, I CAN’T SLEEP
I DON’T UNDERSTAND, I NEVER WILL
A SWEET CHILD WHY DO THE COPS KILL?
CHILDREN WITH CHOCOLATE COLOURED SKIN
HARDLY ALLOWED LET THEIR LIVES BEGIN
INNOCENT UNARMED SIXTEEN AND UNDER
SOMETIMES COPS CALL IT A BLUNDER
JUST A MISTAKE THEY ARE HEARD TO SAY
CHILDREN BEATEN OR SHOT TO DEATH IN USA
THEN CHILDREN LIKE ADERRIEN 11 YEARS OLD
HE LIVED THEN TO HAVE HIS STORY TOLD
LUNGS, RIBS AND LIVER INJURED, AS POLICE SHOT,
A REASON OFFERED BY POLICE THERE WAS NOT
I RESEARCHED WELL, AND FOUND NOT ONE CASE
OF COPS IN USA INJURING A CHILD OF CAUCASION RACE
I FEAR FOR MY BEAUTIFUL GRAND SONS OVER THERE
WITH THEIR BEAUTIFUL DARK SKIN AND CURLY HAIR
I PRAY THEY WILL BE SAFE AND THINGS WILL CHANGE
BECAUSE HATRED OF BLACK SKIN TO ME IS SO STRANGE
THERE ARE AT LEAST 24 KIDS ALL UNDER SIXTEEN YEARS
WHO WOULD BE ALIVE TODAY IF NOT FOR RACIAL FEARS
UNARMED AND INNOCENT, BEATEN OR SHOT , BY A COP
A BOY PUT IN A BURNING BUILDING, THIS MUST STOP.
AFRICAN AMERICAN KIDS FROM 2023 GOING BACK 20 YEARS
THESE ARE THE DEAR ONES THAT DIED AS WE ALL SHED TEARS
BRETT 15 YEARS OLD FANTA 8 YEARS OLD
LA’MELLO 3 MONTHS OLD ANGELO 16 YEARS OLD
DAMON 15 YEARS OLD JORDAN 15 YEARS OLD
TAMIR 12 YEARS OLD CAMERON 14 YEARS OLD
KIMANI 16 YEARS OLD DAKOTA 15 YEARS OLD
BOBBY 15 YEARS OLD JAMES 16 YEARS OLD
AIYANA 7 YEARS OLD LEONA 16 YEARS OLD
KIWANE 15 YEARS OLD YVETTE 15 YEARS OLD
ROBERT 16 YEARS OLD DEAUNTA 12 YEARS OLD
ELLIS 13 YEARS OLD VINCENT 16 YEARS OLD
MARTIN 14 YEARS OLD D’KOY 14 YEARS OLD
MICHAEL 12 YEARS OLD DEJEURN 13 YEARS OLD
THERE IS NOTHING MORE PRECIOUS THAN A CHILD.
TO THINK OF THESE SWEET ONES MAKES ME SO WILD
WHAT THE HELL IS THE DIFFERENCE BLACK OR WHITE?
WHEN ARE COPS GOING TO START THINKING RIGHT?
OK I HAD MY SAY. BLM EVERY DAY!
The betrayal of the white liberals
Is one so peculiar
For a party that claims allyship
Why are black people not invited
Or?
Do you already have your token
To show you are open
To the lie of progression
The covert nature of your motive
Is a secret that is no longer hidden
No tear shed for yet another innocent black victim
But outspoken to defend a republican
Then again
Birds of the same feather must stick together
The pitiful pretence of support you perform
Is evil only a 'wolf in sheep's clothing' could have
They move as if they are sleeper cell spies
Rising only for a white man's death
To them race comes before politics
White liberals 'care' until it comes to defending whiteness
They are just cowards dressed up in a cloak of 'niceness'
What? -
All to prove your differences
Or
Just as a way to boost your views
Acting like the odd one out with your 'individualistic' truths
Spare me your drawn on wounds
Especially when you have never had to walk a day in our shoes