Black Poetry : The Tears Of A Prophet Malcolm X

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by ASHANTA, Jan 5, 2006.


    ASHANTA Well-Known Member MEMBER

    United States
    Jan 15, 2003
    Likes Received:
    Brooklyn N. Y.

    On the Journey of your wisdoms of truth,
    one may ask who is Malcolm X? Many who
    didn’t have a clue, Malcolm the messenger
    of God, nevertheless the journey
    through this life, men are blind to the
    messengers of wisdom and grace,
    fear not the words of man, fear
    the name of God. The wings of a
    brother who fear not man,
    but the honor that he had for God.
    This debt we pay to human ego, many who lives
    Within the sub bionic tortures of self,
    With sores of bleeding images that
    Replenish the masters of mask,
    We smile, and mouths of subtleties that
    Dribbles from the tongue of mad dogs,
    Why would this omissible place call earth?

    Enduring the plea’s and degradations,
    To beg and plea to a man who has not loyalist
    Not even to self, through the chambers of 400 years,
    Yet we continue to plea for the strength of others
    Than self, if one crawl as a worm, so he be stepped on as such;
    In this abundance of hidden secrets
    The pain continues to rise, upon the mask that gives no
    Pleasure, the sure thing in this life is death,
    And another is the loyalty to one God, above the skies,
    Anything that lives beneath, without loyalty to God,
    Is long suffering, there is no back door to the house
    Of righteousness, nevertheless man makes and breaks
    His codes of blackness, we wear the mask that smile and lies,
    It closes our eyes and leaves us into the fog of dragoness;

    I thought once how my ancestors sing
    the sweet songs, Oh but yet we smile,
    but, O great Christ the image
    Of thee, the DNA is not worthy of your secrete image,
    The betrayal of roots that cry out lies,
    The tortured souls that lies upon the
    Cemented roads, but yet we cry only for self,
    We sing the black folks Athens song
    But allow de’ children of roots long
    Suffering without chose, to wear the
    Hidden mask, self murder no respect
    For the blood line that carries the
    Documentarily of self-pride
    Beneath de’ blooded hands
    That forsakes the legacy land;
    De psalms have no respect for the
    Legend his homeland are stroll.
    To thee from tortured souls arise;

    of love the souls that march upon the clouds,
    and the sound of the ancient drums,
    humble the elders that carry the cross;
    A brother who taught accountability is self,
    The war against God’s children; Lost is a place
    Call death. We say we live in the land of
    white supremacy, we live by the lynch man
    rope. Under a hypnotic trans we live
    through the tombs of our corrupted values,
    Separation the black woman and black man ,
    we play the blame card, and turn our heads
    to reality when the light is own, we kill each
    other for territories we must not cross.

    We ride in the big black bens and kill one another,
    if we get to close to rising in a new stage
    of recovery. Many black folks want to
    continue the constitutions of slavery,
    civil rights leaders are not interested in
    doing away with prejudice. Bigotry is not
    about skin color or physical characteristics,
    it is about guilty and the chose we have
    condemned ourselves, the disobedience
    our respect for God, there are no special
    labels for those who cry about assisted
    death to self victim hood it is about
    getting even, It is about greed, It is about revenge.

    To carry the crown to place upon the warriors heads;
    the soldiers begins to beat the drums, Liberty
    shall no longer hold the torch, one must free the
    Inner self, from the roaring fire,
    Each year has seen you my brothers progressing,
    never to sink to that level again.
    Through the infinity of rejection the voices
    Continue to slowly fade, where the eyes of
    Nation fades into a silent progression,
    The deeds of power; are given by the almighty God.

    And the spirits rise upon the clouds,
    as I sing the Nubian Anthem
    the ancestors who brought me cross.

    My brother Malcolm the wings upon the cross;
    Man who is judge by his faith, is man who will be the one;
    who sits at the circle of prophets,
    man who fears truth, there shall be no back door to Gods house.

    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;
    my brothers who come in the name of thy
    Father Almighty God.

    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 ears.
    and 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.
    Malcolm the wings upon your life;

    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
    that God is love
    The toll of the freedom bell ring.
    God has come to bring his warriors home
    From God than from all others,
    O my spiritual ancestors that guide me
    Through the tunnel of righteousness;
    My brother Malcolm your voice shall
    Continue to be herd.

    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. The mission of the land of the lost path of
    assimilation is a word of action.
    My blood I give to thee. Captivities shall not be kept.
    Truth and off set to self.

    I am not dead the voices cries from the soul.
    Hear the screaming of the winds, I shall not go under.
    I gave my life for my brother;
    The haunting of thy soul shall follow me.
    Salvation that lye upon my feet, As the
    slain that lies upon the grave.
    Thy trespasses lie upon me. My eyes
    cries by reason of my wraith.
    I must now reap the sore of my brothers
    disobedience upon the earth.
    But unto thee I come as a humble child.

    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. We are killing on
    e another in a hopeless recovery, in the
    name of undercover; black men as well
    as women, killing the family traditions,
    as our ancestors turn over in their grave,
    crying treason down with black genocide,
    my blood continues to run in the name of
    freedom, I shall not go under as you kill
    my tribes and nations my wife and Children,
    of my own Bodily Loins. I am His and Her
    Majesty King Alpha and Queen Omega;
    The Pay Master for the Terrestrial Bar.

    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.
    That brings light to man.

    Silence the humble the doors of summary
    the solutions of problems
    the accessories of understanding.
    The contents of pain has followed me again,
    reminders of an unworthy event.

    Nevertheless the renders of an oppression,
    you have felt the pain.

    I come to you with great intentions,
    the love that I so long waited.

    Trusting not self, for the un justice
    I have encountered of my on dismiss.
    Man must honor thy brother, in the victory
    Of Gods laws.

    As I as the world, the torture of pain,
    I can not bare the un justice one more time
    I sit in the rapture of darkness,
    hoping the light will glaze upon my window,
    to give me a better life.
    Silence among the odds of violence
    fighting the hypnotic reinforcement of Satan;
    I lift the baggage and dumped it
    between violence and silence I shall humble in love.
    Manifestation of hate,
    the fainting heart, the pierce of the soul,
    leaving hand on empty praise of mans own victory,
    Oh what forms they take.
    Trails of pain, which sets before there feet;
    Simplicity of an endless life;
    Death beyond self; my brother in spirit;
    your words of empowerment, fear not man, fear God.

  2. nevar

    nevar Well-Known Member MEMBER

    Jun 19, 2005
    Likes Received:
    working to own my plus size empire.....
    I'm a Georgia Peach!!!!
    this was breath taking flow on poet.:kiss1:
  3. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

    United States
    Mar 21, 2001
    Likes Received:
    BUSINESS owner
    another awesome drop sis....
  4. soblessed

    soblessed Well-Known Member MEMBER

    Apr 9, 2004
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    Wonderful poem...Thanks for sharing...
  5. Tantrum

    Tantrum Well-Known Member MEMBER

    Oct 26, 2005
    Likes Received:
    Pos Technical Support
    Windy City
    Quote-black men as well
    as women, killing the family traditions,
    as our ancestors turn over in their grave,
    crying treason down with black genocide,
    my blood continues to run in the name of

    Reply-I dont think it gets
    Muc deeper than that
    My sister you know
    How to touch our souls

    ASHANTA Well-Known Member MEMBER

    United States
    Jan 15, 2003
    Likes Received:
    Brooklyn N. Y.
    Thank you brothers and sisters we are one.