Black Poetry : Hunted

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by Carolyne, Oct 5, 2016.

  1. Carolyne

    Carolyne Member MEMBER

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    The blood of his ancestors flow through his veins.

    Despised for his existence, he struggles to stay

    safe and alive.

    Peering through key holes like a criminal, he takes

    the role of the night watch just to ensure that his

    family is safe.



    Scared; he walks briskly through the busy street

    wearing the scars of his dead brothers and

    sisters- with pain etched on his face.

    Eyes darting everywhere, thoughts in disarray as

    layers of fear moisten his dark skin.

    He is haunted by the blaring police car siren and

    afraid of negrophobic stalkers in blue costumes

    roaming to slay.



    The hunter chases with a gun, baton, handcuffs

    and a taser.

    Stalks by day and hunts with a flash light after

    dark with wits sharp like polished hunger, thoughts

    solely on the kill- camouflaged with quilt-

    marinated words like “self defense” tattooed

    on his mind.



    The hunting party rolls like a pack of wolves

    proceeding as stealthy as a cat- with each

    calculated step.

    Raising tension, brewing suspicion as the

    hunted cowers in fear, panics and lets his

    guard down.

    Armored with a revolutionary, undefiable

    spirit from his ancestors, whispers from

    the Harlem Renaissance echo through the

    mind of the hunted one as his instincts flare

    up with an eloquent defense.

    Shouts ring out and he panics- aggressive

    tendencies are ironies in wait.

    Bullets travel faster than him- plunging

    deep into his skin, spilling his blood and

    destroying vital organs.

    Throes replace desire as the curtain of life is

    dropped.

    A serenade of agony proliferates, his brothers

    and sisters shudder and scream, “it’s too much”.



    Waves of despair sweep across the city, another

    black man has been killed – just another

    statistic, another hashtag.

    Riots illuminate the night sky, screams for

    justice follow simultaneously.

    A cloud of prayer amidst anger suffices a

    greater need and dream that one day the

    hunter will lose his desire to hunt and give

    in to the moon’s humanity and the sun’s

    representation of freedom and equality

    as one race.
     
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  2. 1poetsought

    1poetsought Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    Sister, you are a very skilled storyteller. Riveting!