Black Poetry : After The Glory Came Abomination

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by ASHANTA, Jul 24, 2005.


    ASHANTA Well-Known Member MEMBER

    United States
    Jan 15, 2003
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    Brooklyn N. Y.
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    After The Glory Came Abomination

    Through the struggles of a diversity, the constitution
    Blackness was won, nevertheless the scars
    Continue to bond after the glory was won.
    In this mean less area of time, the image has stood the abomination of heroic bureaucracy the soldier who waved the banner, the battle of a lost generalized consumption of spineless association that brittles the thoughts of unity.

    But while the image has stood the test of time, soldiery of confinement the soul has no strength of its own, what dose it take for the image of a king, to stand up and claim his rightful place? Crying that the soul is governed by another, who has know power only if the mind allows, the glory came, and the definition of warrior has declined, the politics that led to that moment has been cast aside by cowardly conformity, if man who lives through another mans eyes of a hopeless survival, and the brother the savior who has given his life, that his brothers should walk the red carpet, the king that lied upon the cross, to give a devil greater power that has know control only if the mind gives it freely, Assassins of the abomination, and the treason of the glory, confinements of genocide amnesia; particularly known, as wisdom and spirituality, the by laws of God, the rainbow reflects the cries of the soul,
    the dead roots which continues to dye slowly,
    helpless when the waters sits upon the door,
    roots that refuse to save self.

    I thought once how my ancestors
    Sing the sweet songs, of love
    The souls that march upon the clouds,
    And the sound of the ancient drums,
    Humble the elders that carry the cross
    to carry the crown to place upon the warriors heads.
    The soldiers begins to beat the drums
    And the spirits rise upon the clouds,
    as I sing the Nubian anthem
    the ancestors who brought me cross.

    I saw the doves upon my head, within
    the vision the saints stood tall through my tears,
    the sweet, Calvary of the past, the warriors
    who wear the strolls of heaven
    The old souls breaking the chains,
    those of my own life as the beating of the links,
    that continues to flow through my blood.
    A shadow across me Oh thy spirit that follows the sun.

    Weeping, Oh God glory to thee
    behind me, remembering the whispers
    that God whispered in my ear.
    remembering the words whispered I the father you
    son I shall give great honor sweet psalms :
    And a voice said in mastery, you and I son are one.
    Through the rain and the storm Death,” I said. But, there,
    the freedom bell begin to ring but life shall be ever lasting

    But I give to thee God's universe
    I sing the songs of the mountain, I cry out loud of the rivers
    I fall upon my knees and sing Oh glory God to thee
    Have I heard these words thou have sing,
    The doves that walk my path.

    They speak and I listening! What a joy I have known Jesus
    Look upon me my child, silence shall
    Give you wisdom of the world.
    Life is death and death is life.
    So darkly upon my frame, I shall praise thee
    I shall Neal.

    My wings the purity of heaven, the waters of purification,
    the mountain of mastery the scripts of life has been fulfill the source of wisdom, written in the blood
    The death shall only bring the sweet taste of life,
    Placed there would have confirm
    God is love
    the toll of the freedom bell ring. God has

    Come to bring his warriors home
    From God than from all others,
    Oh my spiritual ancestors that guides me
    Through the tunnel of righteousness
    Men could not part us with their worldly demise,
    the seas and the mountains sings change us
    Our hands would touch for
    All the mountains of the Calvary Of love;

    Oh when I think of the tears upon my brothers face the agony one must felt, to be treated less than a man, to be chained as a animal only to work through the hot brittle sun, oh but yet he died as a soldier upon the hanging tree, his woman treated as the out door whore, long suffering but yet stood as a man, in hopes of a change in his life, the human man, oh the long-suffering race, centuries despised, oppressed, Enslaved and lynched, haunted and killed by the hound dogs of the mask man face, denied a human rights, to live in a The swampy rivers and the mule that pulled the loaded wagon, cotton to the master house, and the black land of disinherited sold and bought, robbed of an inheritance, which was given by God. Oh the pain that reflects the hanging tree, and the mother who watched with tears upon her eyes, the helpless tribe. I the black tribe the Moses of de’ land call heaven gate.

    And, heaven stood before the universe,
    And spoke with a deep voice
    I reclaim my creations; the devil shall now go to hell
    the blood of thy angel who follows me
    Within the spirit of calm;
    Their sweet sound of faith, the soul call desire, the psalms call wisdom. The mastery called unity;

    Mother of mastery have concluded her journey,
    the womb begins to rest. The embroidery of life, the lace of success, the breast milk of
    Creations implemented through the heart;
    Which brings light to man.
    I have felt the pain of my ancestors. Oh thy glory to thy God
    I hold the chains above my head
    The bolts upon my feet
    The scars upon my mind
    Mother”””” Father””””
    Glory to God I cry
    Freedom’ Freedom” Freedom”


    And suddenly some secret beyond the heaven,
    And unawares of the sanctuary of Gold,
    De’ psalm of the image of a King,
    and I can read the blue print, like large, black-lettered in the form of a bronze feet, oh but yet shall thy spirit flourish upon the earth,
    The black stallion stands tall, and the King awaits at the door, and the scripts that was written in blood, oh far away this land call earthly law, I shall continue to follow the eastern light.
    My hair white as wool, my feet black as a furnace.
    I the prophets of prophet; I the spoken words of my father;
    I great soldier of revolution, the black man the King
    Of my Fathers palace; the blood within my brothers vein.
    I the follower of great Kings, I have felt the pain of Satan,
    but I shall continue to send, my brothers the spirit within
    Me is the spirit that lies within the black man.

    I birth you within my womb
    I felt the pain between my knees
    I felt your first pain.
    Born into slavery I shall not cry, the thrown of my brothers, the pain of my sisters, the suffering of my children, All the slaves don died; I shall walk within the blood prints of my saviors, there is know face of my ancestors who stood before the battle ground,
    During the days of slavery, our ancestors educated themselves, in a new arena of thought, man continues to cry, freedom when man refuse to motivate and educate their own, understanding the struggles of our ancestors was a heritage, not a death, it taught that man can be the great man he is, with education, spirituality, motivation, faith, unity.​
  2. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

    United States
    Mar 21, 2001
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    BUSINESS owner
    +4,174 / -2
    very deep tyte write , what a moving scribe
  3. watzinaname

    watzinaname Well-Known Member MEMBER

    United States
    Oct 4, 2003
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    You words once again bring us to the place of remembering what was, and unfortunately in a lot of ways still is a chain that encumbers us. Flow on.
  4. Froggy1

    Froggy1 Well-Known Member MEMBER

    Mar 22, 2005
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    +2 / -0
    one word: DEEP

    ASHANTA Well-Known Member MEMBER

    United States
    Jan 15, 2003
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    Thank you for your comments
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