Black Poetry : A Black Man Shall Rise

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by ASHANTA, May 21, 2005.

  1. ASHANTA

    ASHANTA Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    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 black 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 black 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.

    .​


    @copywrite 2005
    Noumi Collectives
    J. Amos
     
  2. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

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    word up !!!
    nothing can hold him back from rising above the maze
    tyte sista
     
  3. ASHANTA

    ASHANTA Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    yes my king your inheratance will never be erase, only the eyes of the light shall see the future, never forgetting that you are the image of a king. let your voice be herd, that the black man claim his idenity, and never shall he fall, blessing upon your house.
     
  4. 1poetsought

    1poetsought Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    You cant keep a good man down sister.

    Thanks, for my comeupance.
     
  5. ASHANTA

    ASHANTA Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    what God has ordained no man shall erase.
     
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