Black Poetry : Missing Books Of Blackness

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by ASHANTA, Apr 15, 2005.


    ASHANTA Well-Known Member MEMBER

    United States
    Jan 15, 2003
    Likes Received:
    Brooklyn N. Y.
    :hammer: Missing Books Of Blackness

    Oh yea I sit before the table of the lynch man theology of trust,
    I come upon the land with the legacy of thy God
    I carry the scripts from de highest governed lord
    De thieves that sits before the contention of discuss
    Plagiarism, that sit upon my trust.
    I stand tall as a warrior, I shall dye as a king, I live my rewards
    Upon the constitution of God, thunders
    rendered and flash'd, and I became a
    slave; From brother to brother
    my wretched carcass sold,
    In darkness and treason, the bounty of Satan
    traffic, I summoned To hell without justice call,
    Death upon land blackest clouds
    summon before de devil himself,
    were gather’s o'er my head;
    De slave chains have crippled the mind of thy brother,
    Who lives by the constitution of the living dead.
    The flame of the rooted seed,
    without classifications, who lives
    in a tunnel of shame. Blackest
    clouds were gathered o'er my head;
    Looking upon the rising sun, the spirit
    That rise when the morning comes,
    O, I ‘se sing it till the middle of de
    Cotton fields I prey, lord coming at
    The down sun, of de’ day
    I call'd the warriors from the mountain's steep.

    Born into slavery I shall not cry, the thrown of my brothers, the pain of my sisters, the suffering of my children, I shall walk within the blood prints of my saviors, there is know face of my ancestors who stood before the battle ground, for there is only one blue print, women of strength that carried the same torch of thy ancestors, life is death it is written in the script, I follow the blue print of my brother, what is life if you can’t give it as a warrior, My children continue to feel the whip, slavery never died, it reformed a new master, self who walks the grounds, of the curse that lives within, Cold nights my children continue to feel, as they walk the streets, the enemy who lives within the mask of the devil who continues to live, through the cold nights of the living dead, the monsters who subside and pray on the minds of the young, and those who are so far gone, with anecdotes that surrounds their every thought.

    My Chilean cried, living under harsh conditions, children a bandit by family, living through a tunnel vise mind, failed by the elders who disconnected the en- bible code, which the taunted wound that effect their every thought, lord the war stands before my feet, my children cry, the wars are in the school house, I cry from the time they leave, what is a revolution, if the warriors are dead before they lead, my babies cry as my soul sings it is already dead.

    So my brother who hold the peace of paper of instructions, the knowledge which he refuse to apply, the master no longer holds the pen, and education which is declined, so who is my sister and brother who sit before the desk, as my children close their eyes to the knowledge which they represent, through the souls of child who cry treason, no leaders to plead their cause, the system who breeds the cloaks of enemies that live within the sheeted surroundings who really gives a dam.
    Leaders that ego’s bigger than the proclamation for which it stands.
    My children of the lesser faith cries upon the Calvary lord help me please. So who are we to cry, when we plant the seed of darkness of our own tribe, the congregation that sits upon the table, only think of the power which only a fool embrace, without thinking of the future are the past. The warriors are sealed in a box, great warriors as Henery Brown, black Pennsylvanian who could read and write, who nailed his self in a wooden box, interviewing is people to document the future and the past.

    Within this caucus of a frame, shall turn to ashes and die.
    The inner surface shall never die.
    Within the legacies of humanitarian,
    The historical fruit shall never rot.
    Nevertheless you claim victory, I
    shall meet you in the answering to God.
    Chain my mind, wrap my feet upon the anchor as I drown.
    I shall be resurrected as Jesus said my God.

    You can kill my caucus but my spirit shall never die.
    I embrace the harp of the sweet sounds of rejoice,
    I give to thee of thou most honors.
    Thy father of creations, release me oh lord of the inner spirits,
    that bound me to a hell within thy self.
    Freedom, freedom, freedom,
    I the blood of thy on hands,
    Of resurrection that my spirit be free.

    I shall not want I shall pass over and return.
    I your child thy God, have shared life labor,
    As every man of the world,
    The jungle the beast, the pain of no disgrace,
    The horror of bondage I give to thee,

    The eyes of the almighty,
    has breathed upon my trust.
    The deep breathes from the immensity of the heavens,
    dreams within the bleeding palms of humanities.
    Reactions of a divine soul.
    My spirit shall not die.

    I’ se black, but, O, thy soul is gold,
    My riches upon de’ heaven, da’ darkness
    That lies below, I ‘se rich man from the soul,
    My flesh is nothing said the lord,
    I look at life in strife, I the spirit, de life
    Upon this earth, is an illusion of my thought
    Upon the rising sun: I hear de’ thunders a guilty world.
    da’ time has come, de’ fated hour is nigh,
    blood shall penetrate the sky.
    Let not thee suffer, take the
    last breath , that I Shall march through
    the skies; There shall be no tears,
    I the soldier of God, Their shall be no pleading,
    I shall carry the cross; as my brother
    upon the skies, so I shall give back
    to thy brother who died for me.
    grave that lies upon my trust.
    I shall not die, as the murders that
    stand Before me, when you speak
    of my death, you shall never
    remember a beginning plea; My
    body is just a carcass; but my spirit shall fly free.

    I have fought for a cause; lies upon the dark;
    the inner man shall not awaken from
    the dark, the bite of the bullet is much
    to hot, the valley is closing in as I take
    a deep breath, the warrior is not a warrior;
    until he has shredded blood, words are a
    hopeless survival if the unite is divided,
    we shall all fall at once, under the
    emancipation of slaves, who continue to
    live among the walking dead, I shall not bow over.

    No one recognize the warriors, because many
    have never fought a war, only wisdom brings
    calm to the pain, nevertheless the dead soul
    has know compassion only to self, Oh what
    a bitter taste of brim, but the spirit of God
    walks us through the fire, peace and blessings
    my brother warrior. It is not the pain of
    the burning bullets, But the smell of instant
    death, The black trains as it rides slowly,
    To take me to the other side, It is not the
    lead that burns through my body,
    But the tears that shall flow from my
    mothers eyes, It's not the coldness
    of my brother, Who kill me because
    he feels that he can, Dark as the
    night that the blood runs From
    the leaded bullets upon my chest.
    Know man knows the battle of war
    Until he has bit the bullet of death;
    It is not the horror that sets before me,
    However, the image a King has died,
    in those terrifying screams of death around us
    that remind me; another tribe has
    passed on. Plunge in a black body
    bag, another one out the way;
    The hidden darkness that surface
    the face of a snake, Never realizing
    death for death, nevertheless one
    might Live upon the earth, and one
    whom moved on to a better place.

    Horrors, de’ involving night,
    Prophetic visions flash before de’ sight;
    Eternal justice wakes, in their turn there God live,
    Looker down from de’ windows of his house,
    Lord gives His light, and gives his shield,
    His heat away,
    And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
    the mighty eyes of the sun.
    But little did my boding mind beware
    'For when de’ souls bear da’ heat of
    de’furnace, the sun has no reflect,
    but a shield of armor, what de master
    didn’t no lord say earn my reward upon
    the sky, sacrifice I give my life upon
    de earth, there is no greater reward, only by God above de’ sky.

    I sleep no more in de mist of
    dawn or in the midnight shade,
    Invoke ideal the black mask
    to my aid, de brother in black skin;
    He pleads for the bounty of
    my head, dignity stands,
    at greed, change hands, the hidden secret,
    the bounty ,de brother’s sold de;
    to the lynch man, I cry in secret, my people
    dignity, the hands of de brother’s,
    who sold me to the slave blocks, upper
    nigge’ry who sent my flesh to hell;
    Un detour the solid history of the
    bleeding fountain, and the Niles
    that turn to blood, and the roars of the beast,
    killed and bound in a cage, as the
    spirits that cannot longer be peace.
    The crying trees, the hungry legacies,
    that cry for nutritionist
    The savages that slaughter
    the subjects of mages ‘try,
    who becomes the servants of the
    land, history repeats, oh where or thou brother
    The black holocaust repeats
    Heav'n planted, in the minds,
    and death upon the land, and
    treason cries upon the grave,
    a plague upon the world, the
    black face without honor of self,
    dignity that dies, the serpents captures, the living soul.

    Nor wake again, in the hidden places, cries upon my trust
    De brother in black face, awaits the gold cones,
    I cry in the mist of the night, betrayal of thy tribe,
    abandon’s and forlorn,
    the souls that lives with the dungeons of hell.
    Delusions slow coming death, never more shall
    Beam upon the shame, Africa my home;
    The trade off, for gold; Under the proclamation,
    of emancipations, de bureaucracy
    of a un civilized righteousness,
    death upon the constitution of blackness.

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  2. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

    United States
    Mar 21, 2001
    Likes Received:
    BUSINESS owner
    wow this was on point tyte and long but good
    thankz for sharing sista
  3. watzinaname

    watzinaname Well-Known Member MEMBER

    United States
    Oct 4, 2003
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    Some still live in chains, bringing themselves down, and taking their bretheren with them. Flow on with that knowledge sis.

    ASHANTA Well-Known Member MEMBER

    United States
    Jan 15, 2003
    Likes Received:
    Brooklyn N. Y.
    Blessings my sister warrior; I wish I could call all my sisters warriors, but without mother their shall be no tomorrow, their are many of us, but many refuse to associate with ignorance, honor to you my sister, blessing be upon you. Ignorance children of the devil who will carry their flock to hell. Oh what a mighty God, we have, but what is sad, is that many of us would rather serve the devil then the mighty King who created us.

    AHMOSE Well-Known Member MEMBER

    Feb 6, 2005
    Likes Received:
    Mechanical Engineer
    Educating the Diaspora
    Outstanding piece poet. This something I wish I could share with all the youth that I mentor. Thank you for hitting us with this piece....

    ASHANTA Well-Known Member MEMBER

    United States
    Jan 15, 2003
    Likes Received:
    Brooklyn N. Y.
    My sister you may share this with your children, May God bring peace and love unto your house, my sista missionary continue to teach the young. Your rewards are not far. Blessing be upon you. Feel free to share my writings with your children.