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Darry Israel Poem
I walked out today with a different dream than I woke up from
I went to bed last night with nothing but illusions
I guess it’s safe to say there is no freedom
Just when I thought I was free to carry my dreams with me
I awoke
They said the opportunities lie ahead
Yet further I walk, more barriers I climb
I thought I could take a stand for something
Something meaningful
That was before I realized we have no control like they do
We are contained.
Contained to a point where we believe everything they say
We only comply with their way
Cause we live on their turf
Bless it shall be the land of the free
Where freedom freely comes with a price
And Christmas if not white is no holiday
It’s their way or no way
Be blessed and stay blessed
Where gang is permitted when it only hurts the minorities
White-collar crime I hear, Is it colored white?
Or white colored perpetrated?
I rest my case
That would be improper for me to be improper
In these lines, I don’t condone any isms.
Let’s take a deeper look! Let’s dig deeper…
Look!
Nations and riches are built at the weak’s expense
Think! Who’s the weakest?
They tie you up with words, minorities, slaves…
While you shackle yourself and play the part
You’re blinded form the big picture.
So come buy your freedom,
And build what’s yours.
Copyright © Darry Israel | Year Posted 2017
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Darry Israel Poem
The Calling
What makes a man a man?
If not his ability to stand tall
When it all falls down
Yes that's right, I am a man, what proof do I hold?
Sounds like, I am just a contender to the title.
I am afraid of losing and falling short
I got regrets, I envy and I lost hope.
If I can't hope for better, does that make me a man without a goal or a little boy with a dream?
Who woke to the disappointment?
Better yet, less than a man, maybe.
Ever observe the weakest tree bow to the wind.
See how fast they stand back up
Now walk out and look at the giants above
What makes a man a man? If not his ability to stand tall
When it all falls down, I have heard of them,
Those giants, seen them on TV even read a few things
The giants of our past who never made it past their first fall
But yet we cheer for them the dead man of the past who glory is as great as their last act of heroism
Cheer for the great Alexander, whom never woke after he got poisoned
Cheer for the great Napoleon, whom never made it out of jail
Even Martin Luther king Jr, never got up after that bullet he received.
Funny isn’t it?
Well, if a man is judged and is qualified by his ability to stand tall when it all falls down then where are the men’s of today
I know, most in jail some on the streets and the rest to follow
A man becomes a man by the cause he decides to fight for or the man he chooses to stand by or die for
It made a man out of them
Now why can't you be one?
Copyright © Darry Israel | Year Posted 2015
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Darry Israel Poem
Seen life compared to so many things.
I decided to give it a shot.
My turn for an allegory or simile
Funny, when I sat at the table everyone was shocked.
I wasn't expected though the game had just started.
I automatically got dealt a hand, three cards at first.
I felt confident then; until came the forth card.
I knew about it. I wasn't anxious, I knew the rules.
A lot of time went by; I had yet to make a decision, fold or risk.
Folding is such a cowardly move but risking it may help.
Win it all or force my fold. It took me a second to look up, to realize they were all staring at me.
-“Wonder if they know my hand. Don't be stupid” said I to myself
-“The way you sweating even I would know what you got. You are struggling.”
Four cards nothing in sight, I draw another.
-What am I trying to prove, they foresaw my failure.
I should probably just fold and avoid the shame.
Winner! Winner! Chicken diner!
That is the lamest line ever.
-Another card please!
I looked at the dealer. He smiled at me.
-Did anyone notice? Does he know my hand? Dena has already given up. Here's a smart one.
Not a reaction from the dealer!
He knows!
The dealer always knows.
It's my turn to play; they are all so focus in folding that no one noticed the complicity.
I was set on failure.
When I realized that the ones who fail are those who fold too soon.
Because what they face dries their throat, runs the stress right out of their pores.
He knew my struggle; he knew my hand but yet smiled at me.
He knew something they had no idea about;
I was not folding.
It was only 23 minutes into the game.
Copyright © Darry Israel | Year Posted 2015
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Darry Israel Poem
It's all about color
If it's not green
You won't be seen
Nor would you be part of the scene
It's all about color
When black is the new devil,
Red does no longer stand for evil
Darker, lighter, softer or rough
It becomes the stigma that strikes down
Generations from their pride,
And strips dignity away from heart
It's all about color.
Believe it or not, it’s all about color!
When a simple tone sets all the rules,
Tell me that it is not about color.
When the color you grew in
Stands for whom you are,
Yet again, to myself I think
Must be color!
If I am night-like, I scare
If I am day-like, I strip the night of its worth
If I pale at sunrise and change with spring,
I fall into One or Two, plus numbers
But if I carry the star, my favorite color is green.
So now, tell me that it is not about color!
Copyright © Darry Israel | Year Posted 2015
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Darry Israel Poem
When does the artist see the beauty within his painting?
Is it before or after he edges and draws the final lines?
Far fetch was the thought that brought Pen and Paper together.
Circumstances, which wouldn't favor a better union, found the perfect link that stuck them as an ensemble.
The most imperfect I'll say.
However, who's to say that imperfection can't be the ways of perfection.
Copyright © Darry Israel | Year Posted 2017
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Darry Israel Poem
So it begins
Five years in the making,
Seven years coming
The past did not shape a thing
It only laid the foundation,
Foundation, for what could have been
And it began…
Copyright © Darry Israel | Year Posted 2017
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