Long Uncle tom Poems
Long Uncle tom Poems. Below are the most popular long Uncle tom by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Uncle tom poems by poem length and keyword.
Genealogy
—The beginning of a family tree—
For my great, great grandfather was a son of a slave,
he also was the slave,
and he grew up with a sad and appalling bedtime story
under the dim candlelight flickering in mother’s deep and painful sigh.
Since there was no book to turn over the leaves
no colorful pictures to see or fine letters to read.
The story was from the lips of dear mother,
who worn out from a long and hard day’s labor at fields,
and it was the most touching story he ever heard.
He, therefore, with his poor mother’s image
by his bed side though grievous,
carried this sad and heart-rending story
as an unforgettable boyhood day’s memory in his heart.
The story was, then, handed down generation to generation
and it was the story of Uncle Tom,1
one of most beautiful human beings,
agonizing under the heartless master’s lash,
gasping his last in the bosom of
a gentle-hearted young Mas’r from Kentucky
where the Tom-less Tom’s cabin on the sunny side hill still stands.
Nonetheless, Struggle was the only word they knew
to survive though not as human beings but as a simple living thing,
nonetheless, Struggle was the only word they have to bear in mind
in order to eke out an existence
though not as a dignified being but as an insignificant thing.
They struggled for their lives throughout their never-ending
tiring days, throughout their dark and restless nights.
Although my great, great, great grandfather’s father was
a proud warrior of a tribe
which dominated the wilds in the coast of the Black Continent
where the glow of a setting sun kisses yonder horizon to redden
the ripples, to call the stars and moon from the other side of sky
for the undisturbed and peaceful rest at night.
However, when the evil-spirited wicked ones
whose domain encompasses to and over the seven seas
invaded this peaceful land, though he was a courageous warrior,
whose strength was greater than the king of the beasts
he was trapped and lost his mighty strength.
Able to run faster than the cheetah in the wild
he was shackled and lost his swift legs.
The wings, which enabled him to soar higher
than the eagle were broken to pieces as he was captured.
1Cf: Harriet Beecher Stowe. Uncle Tom’s Cabin
Workin' fo’ free from cradle ta grave
Laborin' sunup ta sundown e’eryday,
while Missy and Massa sat in da shade
Those were da days
Us darkies knew where our place was then,
blonde ambition wish fo' freedom was a sin
Sho’ could use a good *****
like Mister Uncle Tom again
Givin’ a big pearly grin ta greet da hate,
got a ‘xtra dollop of chitlings on da plate
Man, dem auctions, dey ne’er did run late
Those were da days
Pickin' ‘o cotton was a prickly prayer sent,
wearin’ dem chains made da soul feel bent
Runaway blues was da best song ta lip hint
Those were da days
Sunday was da fav’rite time of da week,
us tar babies got no spittin’ on da cheek
Still, we weren’t allowed shoes on da feet,
seems da hounds need a scent in da heat
Thirsty breaks always were short not long,
ere by da hangin’ tree rest da buried bones
Plantation livin’ made us boys ne’er grown
Those were da days
Thus, were the miserable days of being a slave
When America get great again,
will me and my kin get Hebrew reparation paid?
400 years has been a long time ...
Us dark faces have did a lot of siren crying,
and a whole lot of lynched dying
Our stolen heritage
was shipped in a cargo of lying
Yeah, 400 years is a very long,
solitary time ...
We’re the chained cursed ones cast in prison
Us Dante portrait byword souls
got framed for the crime
Degradation is our father,
poverty is our mother
Pain is my sister,
anger is my brother
Airy abolition nary hope got ferry shackled in leg iron —
Sepia sea cheeks kissed by a whip and a gun
was our stern, captivating reality
When robo machines got to do the labor fun,
we were allowed
to escape into color-blind fantasy
Emancipated drugs
was the cracked pipe crystal meth mirror
of our downtrodden opioid liberty
Birth of a Cloudy Eye Nation ...
only twin native promises ever given to us strangers:
Two four-letter swear words —
Jobs and Work
Guess being the reel son of a slave,
means a re-run of the old ways
Vanilla ghetto dreams rooted in the red dirt:
Plantation flowers misty tear-watered
under a cold, Northern blue sky ...
turning suddenly hot, Southern gray
Ain't no IQ need to wonder why —
Future past, these now be those days
"Do you know where you come from?"
she asks me;
"Do you know the founders of your own city?"
DuSable I answer her triumphantly.
She smiles.
"But do you know where you come from?"
My mother Tamika, my father Bernard.
"I ask where do you come from,
not what city you hail from,
not whose loins you sprung from--"
where do YOU come from I ask of her.
"I come from hot days and golden dirt;
I come from green pastures and strange seas.
I come from forced masters and bleeding feet,
bleeding knees from when I was forced
to bow and submit to the male above me.
Left with only a memory of a memory;
left to only imagine the days of a colorful party;
My colors red, black, and green,
feet moving to a beat that was weaved into me.
Where the only CRACK was the flame as we danced along it,
no name to the song, we just sung it;
voices lifted high to the night sky
which once considered beautiful.
My blackness, this black skin
was once considered beautiful.
My spirit was free in it,
but now this black skin is stained red
from the blood tears shed
from my days as a slave,
shackled and chained.
bent back as the whip CRACKS,
leaving a gory Glory trail
which you can follow to my manacled wrists,
hands bruised and calloused
from picking cotton and building homes I could not live in,
given a roll I could never fit in.
Uncle Tom is not my kin nor will he ever be one of them;
he is simply broken and broken in,
ashamed in his sable skin
which was once considered beautiful.
"Where do I come from you ask.
I come from my mother's ashes,
a Pheonix
forced into a world that hates it.
Feathers are picked, killing it, rebirthing it
a Pheonix
forced into a world that hates it.
Where I come from this Pheonix is beautiful,
my skin is beautiful,
where you
are beautiful.
Earthen, golden skin, much like my mothers
where black and white make gray
painted in and on my sisters and brothers.
Never hideous or ugly
to be born into ebony."
She raises familiar brown eyes
then
and I realize
she's me, my reflection;
reminding me of what it took to be
free.
When I see a black person go
and vote for a Republican,
I do not think I’ve seen a more
self-hating and disgusting man.
Do they not know of the struggle?
How can they even show their face?
They deserved to be called ‘Uncle Tom,’
they are a traitor to their race!
…wait, what? What did he say?
And when I see a Hispanic
chose to cast their vote for the right,
I can’t believe they’re fool enough
to every think that they are white.
To betray their people like that
is an unforgivable disgrace,
all those Latin Republicans
are just damn traitors to their race!
Is this guy for real?
I also see those women who
do not call themselves feminist,
who stand in the way of progress,
dumb stay-at-home moms who resist.
Not voting for their liberation,
their minds turned against themselves and wrecked,
if they still cast for Republicans,
they’re a traitor to their own sex!
Holy crap, he really believes this stuff…
When I look at the Indians—
Hold on, hold on. Just a sec. Uhm, so I notice the only people you give choice to are the white males.
What?
Well you said that blacks, latinos, and women all have to vote Democrat, or they’re ‘traitors.’ But not white men. Why is it white men get to make up their own minds, but nobody else?
I don’t understand.
Why do white men get to make up their own minds, but everybody else is a ‘traitor’ if they don’t vote Democrat? It’s kind of racist, if you really think about it. Shouldn’t everybody have that right?
You’re a fascist.
Excuse me?
You’re a goddamned fascist!
You do know that name-calling isn’t an argument, right?
I’m gonna get you fired from your job!
I’m self-employed.
FASCIST!!!
Okay…there’s no helping people like you. Tell you what, you stay here and keep screaming ‘fascist—’
Fascist!
—while I go home and make love to my brown-skinned wife…Did I tell you she’s a Trump supporter?
BWAAAAH!!! Race traitor!
(Sound of chuckling) Oh lordy…it’s just too easy. They’re like friggin’ wind-up toys.
Fascist!
Form:
They say your color defines you,
that it is your identity,
that pigment must determine what
it is that you choose to believe.
You are no individual,
just lumped in arbitrary groups,
if you don’t buy what they’re selling
then the bastards come after you.
You’re an Uncle Tom, a Twinkie,
an Apple or a Coconut,
tou’re a sell-out or a traitor,
to be hated no matter what.
You’ve never been human to them,
just a vote for which they pay,
if you want a meaningful life
then it’s time to walk away.
They say that gender is all fluid,
that there are no women or men,
yet still insist all ‘real’ females
are gonna have to vote for them.
They declare that reality
is what they’re ‘feeling’ in their hearts,
that you can be a manly man
even if you’re lacking the parts.
To say that youe real gender
might influence how you think
will fill them full of rage and get
you fired within a blink.
Despite thousands of millennia,
the truth of it they cannot say,
if you would see things as they are
then you have got to walk away.
They sat that we need tolerance,
to appreciate differences,
by the way they act I wonder
if they even know what that is.
Borrow from another culture
and they cry ‘appropriation!’
Forgetting that we’ve always thrived
on free assimilation.
And God forbid you win power
and they suffer a defeat,
they cry ‘fascist,’ put on black masks,
then assault people in the street.
Elections, see, are only cool
if it’s their side that wins the day.
Should you believe that people rule
then you are bound to walk away.
They sat that it is quite alright
to dictate what’s ‘hateful’ speech,
forgetting that hard arguments
can enlighten folks, and teach.
They always come after your guns,
saying it is for your own good,
leaving free folk vulnerable
to all tyrants, thugs, and hoods.
They say that all religions are
superstitious and absurd
but never will dare to blaspheme
all their hallowed leftist words.
They paint a smile on their lips
to hide just how much they hate,
and if you would live a moral life
then it’s time you walk away.
Powerful words,
Truthful words,
Honest words,
Brave words;
This is exactly what the Doctor orders,
For a nation, who's trying to fight the horrors
Of blatant racism,
Unfairness, injustice,
Nepotism and sexism.
A man of Peace,
Without controversies,
Is not a genuine activist.
The truth is being tolled; there is no reason to apologize,
‘Cause you're exercising your God-given rights.
The sickness, the maladies,
Which America has been suffering
For over five centuries,
Need to be healed as you're reading
My honest feelings.
This is painful, this is long overdue.
My brave People are tired of fighting
The ills and the stigmas of our societies.
This is hurtful, this is way overdue.
The Truth hurts, thank God Almighty;
"Another One" is unafraid to tell the Truth,
"This One" is dissecting the false myth,
And the backward ideologies, thank God Almighty!
The prisons are populated by innumerable innocents,
The Police and their cronies randomly humiliate
Our parents, siblings and cousins.
We have every reason to be mad and irate.
A more just and fair system needs to be in place now.
The Brother is using strong medicine right now:
Powerful words,
Truthful words,
Honest words,
Brave words,
To save America,
The beautiful diva,
Who stands for: "Justice, Freedom,
Liberty and Happiness for All."
We should denounce Uncle Tom
And his monkeys. Brothers, who walk tall
Like you and our President,
Are rare and almost nonexistent.
The Truth will always set free:
The men of Justice, the men of integrity,
The men of Peace, the men of honesty;
The Brothers and Sisters who will tirelessly
Fight racism, the twin-brother of slavery.
P.S. This poem is dedicated to all my brothers and sisters.
Copyright © February 19 2009, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
(Dedicated to you, my Brothers and Sisters)
Powerful words,
Truthful words,
Honest words,
Brave words;
This is exactly what the Doctor orders,
For a Nation, who’s trying to fight the horrors
Of blatant racism,
Unfairness, injustice,
Nepotism and sexism.
A man of Peace,
Without controversies,
Is not a genuine activist.
The truth is being tolled; there is no reason to apologize,
‘Cause you’re exercising your God-given rights.
The sickness, the maladies,
Which America has been suffering
For over five centuries,
Need to be healed as you’re reading
My honest feelings.
This is painful, this is long overdue.
My brave People are tired of fighting
The ills and the stigmas of our societies.
This is hurtful, this is way overdue.
The Truth hurts, thank God Almighty;
“Another One” is unafraid to tell the Truth,
“This One” is dissecting the false myth,
And the backward ideologies, thank God Almighty!
The prisons are populated by innumerable innocents,
The Police and their cronies randomly humiliate
Our parents, siblings and cousins.
We have every reason to be mad and irate.
A more just and fair system needs to be in place now.
The Brother is using strong medicine right now:
Powerful words,
Truthful words,
Honest words,
Brave words,
To save America,
The beautiful diva,
Who stands for: “Justice, Freedom,
Liberty and Happiness for All.”
We should denounce Uncle Tom
And his monkeys. Brothers, who walk tall
Like you and our President,
Are rare and almost nonexistent.
The Truth will always set free:
The men of Justice, the men of integrity,
The men of Peace, the men of honesty;
The Brothers and Sisters who will tirelessly
Fight racism, the twin-brother of slavery.
Copyright@, Hebert Logerie ,Thursday, February 19, 2009,
All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
I hate myself today,
I hate being black
I hate that I didn’t help defend those
white supremacists, who were under heavy
anti-fascist attack
I hate that I chose to silently collaborate
with those fighting to protect democracy
Why didn’t I assist the alt-right people,
who wants us to be ruled by Nazi bigotry
My inaction was so cowardly
I hate myself for that ...
I’m a coward,
I hate being black
I hate that I hid,
while they were marching in the light of day,
shouting their racist slogans boldly
I shoulda joined them,
and let them unleash their anger on me
But, I was a coward ...
I didn’t wanna get beat down,
then lynched from a tree
Black people know, we ain’t equal to Aryans
On this main issue, with white supremacists I agree
I’ve always been an Uncle Tom
my whole life
Even married me an Auntie Ann wife
Black people know we oughta do
what those angry white people say
How in the world did we get so uppity,
acting in such a rebellious way
I hate myself,
I hate my black skin
Why didn’t I help those good KKK folk
who were merely
trying to bring back slavery again
I’m such a coward
for not helping to make their dream a reality
I detest my traitorous liberty ...
I always wanted to remain a slave;
In my dark, black heart,
I know I’m not white enough to be living free
The next time,
when the white supremacists
come out in force —
I’m gonna denounce my vow of cowardice,
just wait and see ... I’m gonna bravely
approach my masters on bended knee
And let them do whatsoever they will,
even if they choose to kill me
This is my tart tongue
firmly planted in my sweet cheek
— Romantic Warrior
Julio was born in Guadalajara,
And waited for years to leave.
Got his visa and moved to Dakota
To work in the oil fields.
Some folks in suits came up to him,
To cheer illegal voices.
He scoffed and said he didn’t care,
Those people made their choices.
They heard his accent and they puzzled
They thought that he was bluffing.
He threw them out and raised the cry:
‘I’m a free man, or I’m nothing!’
--
Eric was born a city fellow
He was tall and dark of skin.
He saw the stores flee one by one,
No work left there for him.
He would not take a hand-out, no
Nor let someone else provide,
He knew too well the slow decay
Of a person without pride.
Some cried ‘Uncle Tom’ the day he left
And set about to angry huffing
But on his porch Eric painted proud:
‘I’m a free man, or I’m nothing.’
--
Mark was born in old San Fran,
And found his tastes turn to men,
But he hated taxes and being told
What to do by the government.
Two people who liked to wear black,
Saw these thoughts as a heresy.
They tracked down Mark to have a ‘talk,’
To let him know how things would be.
But when they set upon the man
To beat from him his stuffing,
Mark thrashed them both while he cried out:
‘I’m a free man, or I’m nothing!’
--
Aaron was once known as Ahkmed
Until teenage doubts grew louder.
He walked away to find his truth
To find peace unlike no other.
Some took not kindly to his act
They raised the cry of ‘apostate!’
Proclaimed for this that he must die
On that there was no debate.
But when they came upon his gun
And their knees, they started buckling
The final worlds they ever heard:
‘You’re a free man, or you’re nothing…’
Mommy deemed the three-year-old me as an honour
Said that I should become a doctor
Stethoscope and thermometer are in her gift bag
To spark the zeal in me, she set to wave a green flag.
Daddy came all running to put a hard-hat on my head
Said that I should become a builder like his dad
I'll be a great architect, he believed, he already knew
He said it's inherited to me and is nothing new.
Aunt wanted me to follow her baking love
Her skills, no doubt, deserve a bow.
Cakes, cookies and all that she bakes
will now be taught to me, with no breaks.
Uncle Tom said I should inspire the world with my words
He weens that they're powerful than the swords.
An Orator or a writer, a counsellor or a life coach
Be it whatever, he says, I should be there for those who approach.
Everyone has their plans for my future
Looks like I don't need school or a teacher.
I'll be home-schooled and trained every day
But should it start right from the 3rd birthday?
I'm afraid they'ld stop talking to each other
As their dreams for me greatly differ.
Keeping their dreams aside for a minute
I thought of what I wanted, for a moment.
I want to smell the soil when it rains
I want to swill down all the snow flakes
I want to ride a horse and tame rabbits
I want to make friends and take new hobbies.
I want to build castles with clay
And play Peekaboo with Jill and Jay
I want to string the stars and crack the clouds to rain
Eat lots of cake and fake a belly pain.
I love dirty feet and dusty hair
Clay and Crayons is what I care
Play, play, play the whole day
I plead you all not to block my way.