Black Poetry : Women's Liberation, No Color, No Form

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by ASHANTA, Feb 2, 2005.

  1. ASHANTA

    ASHANTA Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    The image of women in all colors
    shapes and size, Cry the pain of
    the universe, it dose not discriminate.
    The image of women; whom has
    carried the same load. The pain
    that submerge through history of
    women; has joined together; in the name of warrior.



    Through the legacy of women’s rights;
    a voice to vote, a voice to be herd.
    I women live the history;
    to be fought; without dismay.



    Within these words; that cry;
    the same apply to all civilization,
    a voice to cry, within the realm
    of humanities; there shall be no
    dry eyes. Liberation to be united
    as one, the man the women,
    the child, life, civilization;
    Humanistic values interpreted
    by the forces that lives within
    his own concepts of what is right.



    The battle of the sexes sings
    the same song, A right to be
    herd and a liberty to be respected,
    Within the sub cultures of freedom,
    of humanities; which man dictates,
    who shall have the right to respect,
    and liberal rights of freedom.



    The pain of culture, has inflicted
    the source of a world order, through
    the back door we cry freedom,
    the roots our own family tree;



    The respect of man, who lives
    within his own, Selfish dreams,
    the mother, the women, the warrior,
    Of pretense of a want to be perfect
    king. Who am I to cry? When the
    tears of image; Have subjected its
    denial, of a perfect image;



    Oh say can you see; I the woman
    a perfect image, to lead, I feel
    the pain of women, mother, sister,
    lets not forget the struggle of
    systematic slave labor, that we
    have all felt the wipe of poverty,
    within the realms of Our family tree,
    lets not forget the racism with self;
    the cultural, stupidity, that we
    express of self. The liberation
    of mind shall be the victory
    of source; When all women
    must reclaim their statue
    warriors that they are.
    Submissive to a delinquent
    who cries, law and order to
    Ones on song, the burning
    of the bras, the protest of
    equal justice all, women
    to women in the struggles
    of liberations, A house
    divided shall not stand.
    The torch shall be passed,
    Until humanities reclaim its
    stand; all over the world;
    We have all felt the whip
    of un justice, there shall be no dry eyes.







    Uniting under the open fire;
    My bosoms the milk of my
    father’s palace, the light that
    shines, through my windows,
    the scars, of civilization, Oh
    I cry for the world, I the soul
    of women, the universal pearl.
    The soul of a child, the pureness
    of the inner heart, bonding with seas,
    incubation of my family tree.



    I birth, I rebirth, I the center of the
    universe, forsaking the hate an the pain,
    breathless, expectations, of a
    civilization destruction to self.
    Echo’s of the night, I women,
    I light, I womb, I the pure at
    heart, the softness of the beckoning
    calls of justice to self. The twisted
    pain of evolution, the cries of unity,
    embracing the senses of dignity,
    the cardboard box, 8/11 without air,
    exhaling life, I the soul of women,
    the scars of the universe.



    Tour moils the beginning of an
    empty space, I women the
    nations of nations, the jewel
    of creations, the womb of light,
    the womb of life. Softness that
    breathe life, within the womb of
    great hopes, I women, I the soul,
    I the nation, I the shelter of great
    love, I offer the initiations of great
    wealth. I the warmth of Mother
    Nature, I the center of man foundation,
    I the soul of women, I embrace you with open arms.



    My bosom the milk of my fathers palace,
    the light that shines, through my windows,
    I birth, I rebirth, I the center of the universe,
    I the soul of women, I mother nature
    the source of the universe.



    A connection between the heavens and earth;



    the DNA that forms a shell of protection,
    the light that brings forth warmth,
    and the blood that connects with life,
    the tunnel that awaits a message from
    God, the holy grounds of a space that
    is ready to be released, the embroidery
    of life, dictates the destiny that the
    spirit shall define the chapel
    of life shall now take its form.







    To seek for knowledge through
    the eyes of a sister Soldier; I Salute,
    their shall be know dress rehearsal
    for the fruits of Knowledge; through
    your eyes and direction, and the
    spirit that lies within your soul, the
    mastery of knowledge. I have risen
    above the depths of understanding;
    I have become a woman, when
    I reach the source of liberation;
    through your words and time,
    and preparing the dignity of a
    warrior sister, I have reach
    the coming of treasures,
    understanding that life has know back door.







    I have spoken;
    within the book of knowledge,
    I shall stand up tall, and speak
    through the windows of truth;
    The link between the heavens
    and the earth. I can feel the calm soul of your work.











    To live to love, to sing



    to pray, to live to dye;



    The old soul of women; I



    shall walk through the foot prints.



    I walk within the



    footprints; to lead me across the sea.







    I walk through the foot



    prints I pledge oh God



    I give it to thee. 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, fulfill the source







    written in blood; The death shall



    only bring the sweet taste of life,



    The holy sand that rise upon my feet.



    The robe of spirit flays upon my eyes.







    The doves that flies upon my head.



    Oh thy glory to Jesus;



    the foot prints in the sand.



    My feet do not fit but I shall continue;



    to walk until I rise upon the skies.











    Through the eyes of the spirit;



    The almighty pen shall confess;



    The words of a poet, I shall be



    heard. The old soul of women, I



    sing the old songs of soul.



    The pen that gives me the blue print



    the foot prints in the sand.



    I write these words of and old soul



    that lives within my space.



    The words of a soldier, I leave



    to the universe.​


    All works Noumi Collection
    All rights reserved cc2002
     
  2. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

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    awesome flow sista ......hope you add one in the top in the (Black History Thread)
    honoring our history month & Ancestors
    flow on tyte
     
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