Black Poetry : black history, who

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by baller, Feb 1, 2012.

  1. baller

    baller Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    “Black History,” Who?
    Our fore-parents hail from
    The West Indies
    Sold down the river by (rival) chieftains of ME
    Like the PJs
    On the fifteenth…and the first
    (A few) play-pretty things
    That’s all I was worth
    Sold…by my people into a life of SERVITUDE
    Forced across those rolling waters against the sounds of the loon
    I crossed that forever river before land discovered ME
    Saw (many) my sisters and brothers…asleep
    In the darkness of that deep blue sea
    Before the auction block found us
    …Numbered our tally and made gold of us
    ‘Til the auctioneer cried SOLD of us
    To the highest bidder, he delivered us
    Into the hand of their liberty
    The liberty they stole
    And took
    And transposed
    Into their woes
    They rose
    To the level of DeMoN sPaWn
    Went to hell and beyond
    To deposit their sorrows
    (For fun)
    In those days
    The days of our CRYptic past
    When we thought we wouldn’t last
    Beyond the next PLANTATION UPRISING
    That brought forth many disguises
    HARRIET TUBMAN
    NAT TURNER
    And radical abolitionists
    Who waged war against the white man’s wish
    To own the black man as his (Property)
    Didn’t want to take dem shackles off’a me
    From sun up to sundown
    The heat bore down on us
    The over-seers growled at us
    Massa’s whip dug deep into us
    We could not stomach the patchwork of scars
    Cris-crossing our brother’s back
    Forcing us to act
    Realizing…we could not live our lives like that
    If FREEDOM existed
    We had to know
    …Had to see
    A man-superior
    We could not believe
    Our (mind) had to be FREE
    Not cluttered by sensitivities to
    “Massa, please…”
    “Black History,” to me…
    (Is that just) another means
    Of trying to control the destiny of me
    …Trying to tell me when I can celebrate my (ME)
    ~ Like my story only exists between the boundaries of Feb-ru-ary
    One through twenty-eight days, We EMBARK
    The other three hundred thirty-seven days, they say
    We refuse to carry the torch
    Au contraire
    We led and bled
    Three hundred sixty five days
    EVERY year
    Put this nation on our shoulders
    And refused to show fear
    Slavery didn’t kill us
    Jim Crow couldn’t destroy us
    We knew what to do
    We tried and cried
    Some of us lied…and still died
    But WE pulled US through
    Racism stood against us
    Prejudice was never in favor of us
    The whips and chains weren’t kind to us
    ‘Til the noose befriended us
    Renamed us
    “Strange Fruit”
    Let the white man’s loot go to dust
    As “ashes to ashes” reclaimed us
    FREE
    (Have we forgotten)
    They fought a war…for us
    The system turned water hoses on us
    Beat us
    Lynched us
    Set the dogs on us
    Still, they couldn’t destroy us
    And we sit here…like the fight is over
    Have we forgotten that
    FREEDOM AIN’T FREE
    Or, the price freedom paid
    For you and me
    Have you forgotten the struggles we endured?
    Have the results obscured our plight?
    By the patience (of waiting)
    The procrastination (of hating
    The patience relating to our success)
    And the years it took to get us HERE
    And we sit on our backsides claiming we have no fear
    Sitting ‘round
    With our heads in the clouds
    Like we’re the “ish”
    And don’t own ****
    How did we so easily forget

    Martin Luther King, Jr., or
    Malcolm X, or
    Marcus Garvey
    And what about
    Paul Robeson and
    Medgar Evers
    Have we forgotten them, too?
    Or the hundreds of others
    Of our sisters and brothers
    Who’ve died for the privileges
    We have THIS day
    When I speak to you
    You have nothing good to say
    Is that what they died for?
    Is that your way?
    My brethren…of the struggle
    Through the “civil rights” fights
    And klan lynchings by midnight
    All hooded and afraid
    Couldn’t face daylight and be brave
    The struggle
    Through the marches…and sit-ins
    Boycotts…while at wit’s end
    We struggled to get in (with)
    A people we couldn’t fit in (with)
    The struggle
    “In God we trust”
    We committed our soul
    Ready to die for us
    The struggle
    Through slavery days
    When STRANGE FRUIT seemed a better way
    Of opposing their choosing
    For, in death, we weren’t losing
    The struggle
    Through jim crow’s tyranny
    Racism and bigotry
    Other oppression…we could not see
    Still…we pressed on……..gallantly
    The struggle
    In societies of recent years
    With lackadaisical atmospheres
    Where creature-comforts readily define us
    While the enemy’s reach is within grasp of us
    An endangered species we’ve become
    ~ A separate people
    While they’ve become one
    Yet…you think we’ve won
    My brethren…
     
  2. 1poetsought

    1poetsought Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    Lest they forget!

    Right as rain.
     
  3. MsVeraisblessed

    MsVeraisblessed Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    You know i was looking for my movies, the Roots Collections . This poetry reminds me so much of it. I really like it, too. :wave:
     
  4. baller

    baller Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    The sincerity of our struggle is not apparent to the masses
    Rendering shallow shades of unity
    Called disharmony
    Making resistance seem
    Futile
    In the Absence of tranquility
    Senility seeps in
    But do not despair
    Strugglers are long-sufferers
    Accepting the “pain of their struggle”
    As their “breath of life”
    Knowing there is no instantaneous resolve
    We struggle to last, and
    Last against all odds
    We fight for right, coz
    Right is all we have (to fight for)
    We last beyond now, because
    We don’t know how to lay down
    So, we fight one day
    And then…another
    Holding on ‘til right pushes wrong aside
    Remembering what our forefathers cried:
    Keep your eyes on the prize
    And never look back
    To stay the course
    You must be strong
    …embolden by this fact:
    Right is right
    (do yo’ thang)
    THANKS for reading.
     
  5. TotalView

    TotalView Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    I have not forgotten. Cannot forget. Will not forget. Powerful, my friend!
     
  6. baller

    baller Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    the torch must be carried. its light must shine brightly...as we move betwixt and between the dark things. stamping out racism and bigotry everywhere.
     
  7. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

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    How can i turn nor forget this was power truth and the way keep my eyez open brother
    let it continue to spill so they all know .......yessssssssssss!!!!!
     
  8. baller

    baller Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    yes...knowledge must be spilt...that those around us might gain from its spillage...and wake from their slumber.

    THANKS for reading, $$RICHMAN$$.
     
  9. baller

    baller Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    so many struggles to get us to where we need to be...and, still, we slumber in twenty-fifteen.
     
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