Who am I rooting for?
Everyone Black of course,
I am pro-black -
And against anything anti-black.
First and foremost,
Are my people,
EVERY.SINGLE.ONE.
The whole diaspora -
It doesn’t matter where you are from,
I love my people,
I’ll never stop,
No matter the nationality,
I am pro-black,
Black people have my heart,
I love us no matter what.
Who am I rooting for?
Everyone Black of course,
We are family,
Even if we are oceans apart,
Whether young or old,
Light or dark,
My people - they have my heart
We only have each other,
And that is all we need,
We may agree to disagree,
On many different things - but that's what happens when your family,
Through thick and thin, we are a tight knit community.
In my heart wages a war between love and hate that
Will define a nation.
Love must win.
Or it's the end.
When you assert a thesis, you’re well convinced in it
I have a nationality, therefore I exist
Then comes a counterthesis, never to be missed
I skip the nationality, but nonetheless, exist
The opposites appear to be equally compelling
Which one to choose depends on throwing of the dice
No one will argue or agree with what you’re telling
You’re speaking to yourself, which isn’t much too wise.
Nationalities come
Nationalities grow
Where coffee's come
More nation's grow
To see them now
we feel they've left
What home for them
was far and blessed
So how can they
be coffee friend
To all our country's
hate at them
For leaving home
when we want too
For home a love
We stare at you
And some still know
that home is there
You can say they come
and fare
Though death for one
has you to aim
Your hate; your friend
you feel the same
When all who say
you're not alone
Know home for call
is there and own
What you will have
as loving ground
Of friend close by
and top of sound
To hear the heart
of he who says
I love you for
the ones I'm pressed
To be as home
where chairs will sit
On solid ground
with closeness pritt
I have a question for all the poets and poetess,
How do you know the grammar of your poem is right,
and mine is wrong?
When I write in my home language that I was born?
I am South African, you Italian or maybe American.
I write and speak in a different way,
Not always how you would say.
But does it make my grammar right and yours wrong?
We all writing down our emotions, dreams and fears,
Is that not more important here?
I like painting my emotions on your poetry wall,
It makes me feel good to display them all.
So please, give me a break,
Even if you think I make grammar mistakes.
Come over and let's reason,
My heart pumps of all that tints my ears.
Could it be true and real
That life has Spongs itself off our lain?
To mean that our heroes' energy is dent.
Hmmmm!!!
This can't be true,
Cos the essence of reality is gone off it.
Our land, oh our land is glory in its blood.
As all hands are handicap to Savage it.
For the fear of our belly, the labour of our past heroes is in vain.
And that which we fear has become our lots.
Neither old nor young is innocent
That all crave for the national cake to loot.
Arise, oh compatriots
As our nation calls for your obedience.
To save it with love, strength and faith
Not for the fight of the belly.
Which causes the fall of Gehazi
And our looping doom so soon.
Arise, oh arise!
The compatriots to Savage our land.
This is a call not the law.
Blended cough suppressant milk fondue
A German issued side arm
and a knee brace
Preparation
Slip shots lock arm to face
What shot you floats arm...less
Then you kneel
Degradation
You are no longer
A sole proprietor of yourself
Now socially secure
to offer without agreement
what causes sovereign downfall
State citizens make prisons
and we offer ourselves
as they take our crown off
Awaken before you can't.
With everything that's different
I still say we're the same.
Another nationality.
A face I cannot claim.
A mask that forms a body
ignoring what's inside
causing us to struggle
and live where we reside.
I say that we're the same
and think of you as new.
and if there is a difference
it's from a different view.
Britain with an accent
French with a cigarette
China with a great wall,
Over the seas I lost
To a nation,
Kindled my flag so it would burn ,
Like a light that has never been put out,
I raised the stakes and created a pound;
At the cost of an ounce,
Beckoning landmarks, of the things we lost
To remeberence
Many, many years ago when I was nearly three,
I joined my parents and we made these nationalities.
My mom was born in Berlin,
to my Hitler youth grandpa.
He didn't like some Germans,
but for his country he fought.
My dad is of an Irish name,
and he lives in the states.
And at a friendly's restaurant,
he met my mom one day.
Now Irish dad and German mom,
are happy as can be.
-But soon they felt, to be complete,
they needed to have me.
I was born in Guatemala,
many miles away.
Till my parents saw my picture,
in the USA.
And so they took a journey down,
to get my sis and me.
And thus, there are two Latins,
in the Dowling Family tree!
Now I’m married to a German
who is my best friend.
And the day she has my kids,
the whole thing starts again.
I reckon here's a lesson,
to those feeble shallow minds.
That love extends beyond a race,
or culture, place or time.
So maybe you can look at us,
and say it's only right.
That anything is possible,
in this beautiful life.
Oh, I’m the future now!
I’m the future now!
It sounds funny I know,
but we're all over the globe!
We're the future now!
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