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Emmie Ay Poem
I am not a poet
I am the truth spitter
Don’t call me Christian
Call me disciple of my own religion
I am not a prophet of words
I am the prophecy
I am the words
I am the future
Plant a seed in me
And look at how it grows
Love and pain do go together
Love, however, I am not
I am pain
I’m the sorrow of tomorrow
I’ll corrupt your good morals
Your sacred feelings I will borrow
Step on them and burn them
And then I will return them
I will make you black inside
Smoke and fire go together
Smoke, however I am not
I AM FIRE
I will turn to dust everything you got
I’m the sorrow of tomorrow
And I am coming for you soon
Copyright © Emmie Ay | Year Posted 2013
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Emmie Ay Poem
Brown hands are red in the white sea
Picking white things in the scourging yellow
Tired drops of sweat fall from the bodies
Skin deep beauty stolen from the Mother Land
Forced to travel in hell on water
Brought to the White Land to serve the superior
Cry little girl don't you stop
For your mami and daddy are rotting fruits on a tree
Soon master will grab your brown neck with his white claws
Billie Holiday sweetly sang in Strange Fruit:
"Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh"
The stolen bodies only plain existed in life
But now they are spirits and alive in death
For in Heaven power voices sweetly sing FREEDOM AT
LAST!
Copyright © Emmie Ay | Year Posted 2013
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Emmie Ay Poem
***AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you are the sensitive kind, or if you get offended easily, or are not able to read topics that are extremely emotional and hard to take in, DO NOT READ THIS POEM!!! I do not sugar-coat anything, I won't apologize for whatever poem my heart decides to spit out.***
Dear Jesus
I know it’s been a while
The last time we talked I guess I was crying
But not tonight you see
Tonight I’m asking you to hear me...
Dear Jesus
Please let daddy be too drunk
Please let him pass out on the couch ‘til we see the sun
I hate it when he comes around
My bed still reeks of his funk
Just like that night
When he fell asleep on top of me
And the mattress sunk
I had to hold my breath
It was like I had sex with a skunk...
Dear Jesus
Please wake momma up
She’s been sitting at the kitchen table for days now
With her marked wrists and her head down
I wonder if her white friends did it
They always knock her down
I tried moving her but her body hung
I wonder if she’s well
She’s starting to smell
Daddy doesn’t know
Every time I ask him I end up with a broken nose
No daddy doesn’t know
He knows how to unbuckle his belt
And tell me to...
Blow job? Is that what it’s called?...
Dear Jesus
Who’s this knocking at my door?
I guess he’s coming back for more
But I refuse to cry like before
I only have one last prayer to go
Before I open up this door...
Dear Jesus
If sleep ever comes to me tonight
Please don’t ever let me wake
Copyright © Emmie Ay | Year Posted 2013
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Emmie Ay Poem
Striped clothes
Pants, shirts, hats, and shoes
Even little shoes of little ones
Piled up all together
In that gas chamber
Once those pants hid inhumanly scars
Once those shirts hung loose from skeletons
Once those hats covered shaved heads
Once those shoes housed bloody feet
But now...
Striped clothes have no bodies to wear
Copyright © Emmie Ay | Year Posted 2014
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