Tag Archives: poetry

Prose Poetry.

It Occured to Me One Rainy Afternoon,

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Upon hearing the singing of a bird,Maybe the question is the purpose.
The questions that crowd my mind, begging for my attention.
Perhaps my purpose is not
in answering them,
but living them out.
Here Is one:
Why do birds
sing?
I have been struggling against this wind.

Perhaps, it is that
they never cease to sing.

Neither rain nor night nor snow
Can keep them silent.
It is a brave species that will stand against the Night and
sing a song.
Perhaps,
a bird knows there is glory in his singing.

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Glory starts small.
It grows, like an ocean wave that God braids. And we are all stringed along like hairs in his palm.  Glory starts small, pebble by pebble are the questions we are patient enough to live,
in a world that demands
answers.
We breathe the questions unanswered.  We wear a glory unseen. Then it will be us who sing the song. Like the bird who knows true glory, we will give true glory.

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Case Study, part one: Beautiful People.

beautiful people,
    lining up streets
    taking out shrapnel 970143_267108810101875_850091147_n
    and dancing off beat
beautiful people,
    clothed with their scars
    building their bridges 
    with old prison bars
beautiful people,
    singing off key,
    ‘down with your monopoly
    on our standards of beauty!’
beautiful people,  
     opening doors, 
     walking through fires
     and coming out in four
beautiful people,
     some sages, 
     some babies,
     some meek old ladies
     
     some Martin’s
     some martyrs
     some 300 missing daughters

284357_4073283304831_726547536_n beautiful people,
     who grew amongst weeds,
     who yielded true courage
    the fruit of imperishable seeds 

-Naomie Jean Pierre 

Guest Submission: “Slipped Too Deep”

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This poem was inspired by the choreopoem “For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf” by Ntozake Shange. Like Shange’s, this poem expresses one of the many struggles and obstacles that African-American women may face throughout their lives.

 

Slipped Too Deep

I moaned for it.

Gripped your skin, and let you push it in-to me

Raw.

My hands shook when you gave it to me.

An orgasm tried to reverse the present but you shoved it back in with two fingers

I loved every bit of it.

And at the time I didn’t know the gift was from your ex,

She picked it up, gave it to you, and then went to the next.

You claimed she was the best.

And I strived to be better, strived to get wetter.

To do things to you she didn’t know existed, but that girl was gifted.

Talented at keeping secrets and giving diseases-

My heart was begging and pleading,

And neither of us could hear it.

Your eyes whispered I’m cheating on you while you were on top

And I encouraged the deceit, screaming don’t stop!

The subliminal message behind every “I love you” was,

“but I say that to all of y’all”

One confession made me feel so small. All of this anger inside of me is building a wall,

That I refuse to climb.

I just knew you were all mine.

My selfish ass never shared nothing,

But all this time you was fronting.

Smiled in my face

And let another bitch take my place.

It’s not right

Stabbed my heart, kissed my cheek, and then cleaned off the knife.

You fucked up my life!

And I cant forgive you.

Still cant believe all of the things you confessed to.

Images create themselves in my mind of what you did to her,

Got to get rid of ya’

Deleted text messages read “sorry I gave you Chlamydia

 

Stephanie Williams 

The Shunned.

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Step in the shoes of men who are viewed as criminals….

Seen so generally but never as an individual…

Scrutinized without any word or action….

Lies dictate the fate of these men…

Premature accusations ridden with past fears that have no weight…

Yet they are supposed to fight a fight unseen by their own eyes…

Blind…

While already seen as an enemy, nowhere to flee…

A target embedded in them since birth…

Another gangsta born to caged or slaughtered in the streets…

Few weep as the sheep could careless…

In their eyes these men don’t deserve life…

While their mom’s only sees the innocence within…

Maybe a new king or shabazz within…

Take a walk in the shoes of men who don’t know what fair is…

Shunned because of skin they had no choice to bear….

Can you see it thru their eyes…?

Take a peak…

Read between the lies…

Time has passed but where is our change?? Centuries behind due to the chains…

Yet in our history we started as kings…

Now the only thing worth chasing is fame…

or playing a simple ballgame…

The only way I won’t be looked as the same.…

If only money could change everything….

Because in their eyes we’re all the same…

Just another colored man fiending for hoes and bling…

It’s Assimilate or gain nothing…

Maybe then the target will change…

Will these men ever be loved In this world?? Or Are we born to be slain?? Extermination of the past kings and queens…

A generational genocide yet no says a thing…

It started with our leaders now all we know is pain…

 

…….The Shunned……

Sincere

Little Black Boy

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I wrote a poem a little while ago and for some reason I decided to entitle it Little Black Boy,now at first i could not decide why I named it this because usually my poems do not have titles. Then I realized that I named it little black boys, because it seems that these days it is becoming harder and harder for little black boys to live long enough to become Men.
The preservation of life is becoming more and more important as we are constantly losing could-be future Doctors, Lawyers, Educators, Preachers, etc by the dozens. This statistic is expounding across every creed and culture, the amount of tears shed for this monumental loss of innocence could fill a multitude of seas. We have to start taking better care of ourselves and learning from the mistakes of our brothers and sisters. We must bring back the pack mentality, especially in at-risk neighborhoods, do not go strolling the streets by yourself. Always be aware of your surroundings!
I am not against any type of law enforcement but it is becoming more and more evident that We are not the demographic they had in mind when they were told to “Protect and Serve”, we are the danger! That can no longer be the case. If you are in the presence of an Officer please PLEASE, I implore you to do what they ask, but do not be afraid to ask questions! If it comes to a point where you feel that your, rights are being violated, ask questions and be as polite as you can. This is not being a bitch this is being intelligent. We as a people cannot afford to lose any more voices. It is our job, to shine brighter when one of the candles have been snuffed out. So shine bright. 

Now as for my poem, when I write, I do not for the page, I write so that one day it might be spoken so some things might not flow as nicely on page. Without further ado: Little Black Boy

I am the future and the past
And I hope that I last long enough to walk my future mini Me’s to class
Hear my joyous reverberation of a newborns first laugh
Am I pray my wife with have enough class to not adorn clothing that fits in such a way that her treasures are on display
Because it doesnt take a pirate to know that are scavengers out there plotting on your booty.

I want to get rich so when i dress poor its ironic
Instead of a peak inside my socio economical closet
Hella wealthy in mental money
Authors steady making deposits
Intellectual capitol one
Whats in your wallet?

Brain waves 360 like I wrapped it in a du rag
Old neighbors turned gang bangers dont know why they mad
Im like “why” i had the same opportunity that you had
You upset because you chose the gun and I chose the book bag

Youre the reason why when I pass old ladies on the streets they clutch their clutches
Because little Twon could never get a louis vuitton without snatchin and runnin

Many have no idea how hard it is to shoot for the stars
With a fully loaded fully stocked unlocked and cocked imagination
Especially when the weapons of those around you arent aimed as high and arent so metaphorical

Hard to keep track of time when on the look for the neighborhood watch
Hard to keep my train of thought when worried about over zealous transit cops
Who pick on me because they have a quota of repremandments
And if I act up he’ll break rule six of the ten commandments

Suits worn to home going services that were purchased  for interviews
There are no peaceful protest becauses everyones at the funerals

Dont let your potential go waste
Dont let your casket be your cubicle

I am the future, And I hope to honor my past before I pass.

As Always I Love You, God Loves You, LOVE YOURSELF,

Man of Madu