Black Poetry : A Black Man Shall Rise the Beginning of the End

ASHANTA

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Jan 15, 2003
1,859
74
Brooklyn N. Y.
A Black Man Shall Rise the Beginning of the End
Poet Jacqueline Amos/ Ashanata

Through all the sorrow of the hailing light,
the torch, tearful moments of Songs,
Man is nothing without the spiritual
light, breathes of blood, of the saviors
cross, hope, mama's cry through
the night, my hope, sing a death
song, to the lynching of my fate,
a faith in the ultimate justice of the
psalms man.

The minor cadences of despair,
the triumph sings in unison, lord
come by here, I stand tall as a man,
change often to triumph, the calm
confidence, I the psalms of men.
Sometimes it is faith in life, sometimes
a faith in death, sometimes assurance
of boundless justice in some fair world beyond.

upon the cross the savior that return,
the voices cry from the grave, I see the
blood of the skies, I walk the moonlight,
I lay by the soft rocked grave, I plead
my case to the lord. I shall lay my body
down. Judge me at the bar not on earth.

As he as my brother, the lynching shall reverse
A man shall rise upon the night, as he as the DNA
The image of God, so who is man that is looked upon
Without grace, the blue print
was created, and the history
Shall continue to take form. A man shall rise.
Upon the night, nevertheless the history
has been told, man who fairs the devils
scorn, test of faith, he temped the lord
upon the mountain, man the humble heart,
the devil has stolen everywhere-land and
sea; lord judge my fate, judge me not on
earth, judge me at the bar, of the lord.

But whichever it is, the meaning is
always clear, and that the backward
races, is submission of the slave masters
torture, of today and often, proven in
efficiency and not worth the saving.
The assessor to death, Judge me at
the bar of the lord. the backward
races of today; darkness, cried at
the fountain of blood, men will judge men
by their souls and not by their skins.
Is such a hope justified? Judge me at
the bar dear lord. The cries of my breeder's
that continue to search, lord the handicap
mind, worked the dignity of man.

Nor has the gift of the Spirit been
merely passive. Given to this nation in blood;
So each man must reclaim his inheritance;
which was give in grace, abide his final
fate. I stepped from my cell's confinement
the hell that sits upon my feet. Humbly I
speak, God protect me from my self, The
wooded logs that lye upon my house, the
fires that Burn to give me light, through
the light the darkness Continue to seek
in, oh the grace of thy God That shelters
me, who am I ? The words of Thy father,
the loyal subject to Gods house.

Like a cage bird, which sings for freedom,
and the rage for freedom, I shall change
this place call earth;

In the standings of Gods demands;
That lingers to live upon God's house
the soul of the soul son, de' master Lord God,
Image from the black sparring clay, black rivers
that created the image I wear, Wraith of the
slave trade, I claimed my freedom, from the
envy of man, yet they continue to set traps,
I shall not bow over, my legacy written in the
script of gold, I drink from the golden cup of
the trading rills; I am the soul of humble many
don't know my name, As school leaving age
arrives, future prospects become clear;
A life on the dole, a slave to the state,
very predictable fears.

I cry not for this blinded world, the servant
will be the one, who sits at the lord table,
and the avenger will hold the door, ancient
ere slave master began. My instructions come
de little black book. I shed no tears, I cry
pain of world, de lord say,
the black stallion of the skies.
It is not freedom from prison he seek; it is
the darkness that man feels within self,
It is freedom from the hypnotic thought of change,
thieves we meet: All life is now a soulless
prison, the spirit of death, beaten down,
A wild suspense between heaven and hell:
But unto the image of man, life
upon the silhouette of his home ;
Remembering the message God
whispered upon his ear, son we are one,
Continue your journey, which you may come home.
 
Sister ASHANTA ... this is so beautiful! ... :bowdown: :bowdown: :bowdown:

Thank you for sharing! ... :toast:

I gotta say too ... that you can't have more than 5 threads on the home page at any one time.

You have more there now, but you can leave them, just keep it in mind moving forward.

It's sort of a new rule ... since you've been home last (i think).

Rule #8 - No Spam - No Overwhelming The Discussions

You can post to your blog as much as you'd like ... no limit there.

Let me know if you have any questions.

I Love You! Thank You!

:heart:

Destee
 
...


Very Touching, poetess ASHANTA:


... As he as my brother, the lynching shall reverse
A man shall rise upon the night, as he as the DNA
The image of God, so who is man that is looked upon
Without grace, the blue print
was created, and the history
Shall continue to take form. A man shall rise ...

A Black Man Shall Rise the Beginning of the End
Poet Jacqueline Amos/ Ashanata

Through all the sorrow of the hailing light,
the torch, tearful moments of Songs,
Man is nothing without the spiritual
light, breathes of blood, of the saviors
cross, hope, mama's cry through
the night, my hope, sing a death
song, to the lynching of my fate,
a faith in the ultimate justice of the
psalms man.

The minor cadences of despair,
the triumph sings in unison, lord
come by here, I stand tall as a man,
change often to triumph, the calm
confidence, I the psalms of men.
Sometimes it is faith in life, sometimes
a faith in death, sometimes assurance
of boundless justice in some fair world beyond.

upon the cross the savior that return,
the voices cry from the grave, I see the
blood of the skies, I walk the moonlight,
I lay by the soft rocked grave, I plead
my case to the lord. I shall lay my body
down. Judge me at the bar not on earth.

As he as my brother, the lynching shall reverse
A man shall rise upon the night, as he as the DNA
The image of God, so who is man that is looked upon
Without grace, the blue print
was created, and the history
Shall continue to take form. A man shall rise.
Upon the night, nevertheless the history
has been told, man who fairs the devils
scorn, test of faith, he temped the lord
upon the mountain, man the humble heart,
the devil has stolen everywhere-land and
sea; lord judge my fate, judge me not on
earth, judge me at the bar, of the lord.

But whichever it is, the meaning is
always clear, and that the backward
races, is submission of the slave masters
torture, of today and often, proven in
efficiency and not worth the saving.
The assessor to death, Judge me at
the bar of the lord. the backward
races of today; darkness, cried at
the fountain of blood, men will judge men
by their souls and not by their skins.
Is such a hope justified? Judge me at
the bar dear lord. The cries of my breeder's
that continue to search, lord the handicap
mind, worked the dignity of man.

Nor has the gift of the Spirit been
merely passive. Given to this nation in blood;
So each man must reclaim his inheritance;
which was give in grace, abide his final
fate. I stepped from my cell's confinement
the hell that sits upon my feet. Humbly I
speak, God protect me from my self, The
wooded logs that lye upon my house, the
fires that Burn to give me light, through
the light the darkness Continue to seek
in, oh the grace of thy God That shelters
me, who am I ? The words of Thy father,
the loyal subject to Gods house.

Like a cage bird, which sings for freedom,
and the rage for freedom, I shall change
this place call earth;

In the standings of Gods demands;
That lingers to live upon God's house
the soul of the soul son, de' master Lord God,
Image from the black sparring clay, black rivers
that created the image I wear, Wraith of the
slave trade, I claimed my freedom, from the
envy of man, yet they continue to set traps,
I shall not bow over, my legacy written in the
script of gold, I drink from the golden cup of
the trading rills; I am the soul of humble many
don't know my name, As school leaving age
arrives, future prospects become clear;
A life on the dole, a slave to the state,
very predictable fears.

I cry not for this blinded world, the servant
will be the one, who sits at the lord table,
and the avenger will hold the door, ancient
ere slave master began. My instructions come
de little black book. I shed no tears, I cry
pain of world, de lord say,
the black stallion of the skies.
It is not freedom from prison he seek; it is
the darkness that man feels within self,
It is freedom from the hypnotic thought of change,
thieves we meet: All life is now a soulless
prison, the spirit of death, beaten down,
A wild suspense between heaven and hell:
But unto the image of man, life
upon the silhouette of his home ;
Remembering the message God
whispered upon his ear, son we are one,
Continue your journey, which you may come home.
 

Donate

Support destee.com, the oldest, most respectful, online black community in the world - PayPal or CashApp

Latest profile posts

HODEE wrote on $$RICH$$'s profile.
$$RUCH. SO COOL.VBRO. WHAT MY bornday. Again. Destee. June. U didn't call. Phone me. I'm loosingbit. In my dopamine euphoria. None stop. I send my new pic. Noylt. Me. That guy. Wears 1x. I wear.b3x. Ok love Destee Fam. Errors I don't care ok. Love
Destee wrote on MANASIAC's profile.
I saw you ... :yaay: ... Welcome Home! ... :flowers:
Back
Top