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Jimmy Desire Sep 2010
Hidden Weapon
By: James Desire

See me walking on the vacant street
What’s your first thought?
Black kid up to no good
See me- surrounded by others, my brothers
What is your second thought?
Black kid in some gang
Must be tattooed and tough
Discrimination- Hidden Weapon
See the clothes I am wearing
Big baggy pants, dark Du-Rag and Ripped shirt
What is your final thought?
Poor old ****** living in a ghetto
Discrimination- Hidden Weapon
Now Listen,
You see me jetting through the silent streets
What would you assume then?
Arrest!
Call the cops
Must have been a ******, a robbery,
Another black boy crime
Discrimination- Hidden Weapon
I am just a black boy trying to survive
Trying to enjoy-just to stay alive
On the street
People judging me cause
The blackness of my skin
The types of clothes I’m in
Discrimination- Hidden Weapon  
Unsuspecting black child taunted, haunted…
Fearing that one word-*****
Should I be blamed for crimes committed in the past?
Choice-less decisions made
Pressure reaches ******
Everything seems lost
At the end
I feel blamed
Nevertheless, I blame you
Whites
Rejecting
Hurting
Me- hopeful
Pride-earned-not given
Defending
Defending my dignity
Discrimination- Hidden Weapon  
Should I be judged/blamed for past generations?
Then, blame me for…
The jazz of Louis Armstrong
The voice of Billie Holiday
The poetry of Langston Hughes
The photography of Gordon Parks
The character of Martin Luther King Jr.
The power of Coretta Scott King
The dignity of Fredrick Douglas
Finally, the individuality of James Desire
You seek evil in blacks
The past has also proven a positive…
A positive outcome
That helped the development…
OF OUR WORLD!
Jimmy Desire ©2010
Ricknight  Jun 2012
Dream- Haiku
Ricknight Jun 2012
Had a dream, the dream
Known by Coretta Scott King
Without action don’t dream
New to Haiku
Critique Welcome
louis rams Feb 2013
(2/7/13)

She was my black female warrior and she stood proud and tall
And upon her shoulders her silk hair did fall
A spear in one hand and an axe in the other
No one would mess with her, not even her brother.

The strength of a lion searching for prey
She would not let anything stand in her way.
She knew where she lived – it was a jungle out there
But she was strong in spirit and did not care.

She is the black warrior and as strong as can be
You will find her in the annexes of history.
Just like the movie of “BETTY AND CORETTA”
Who showed what they can do- when they stood
Up against the politicians of the RED, WHITE and BLUE.

We are still being monitored by the land, air and sea
But we’ll continue the fight so that we could be free.
These two women are the black warriors who walk
Hand in hand with all oppressed people who are willing to take a stand.
I am Hispanic and we’ve been denied many rights
Just like any other nationality we’re all willing to fight.
It does not matter our color, religion or
****** preference that we may have
“ONE NATION UNDER GOD WITH LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL”
That is FREEDOMS CALL.

© L . RAMS
16 | 31 Poems for August 2016

How can we proceed with ease when we can hardly trust each other?
I have scars that run deep like still waters do – only the ocean can fathom what I’m going through.
I hope the bridges we burn illuminate our paths because the darkness tends to distort our vision.
But you can hardly notice the difference because you always have your eyes closed.
If the truth hurts when I write it, imagine how you’ll feel when you hear it.
I have pain that runs deeper than still waters do – only the ocean can fathom what I’m going through.
You always remained well-composed like a Mozart classic but if the world is your canvas then who’s your muse?
I used to dream about the Grim Reaper driving a Phantom in a graveyard littered with my endeavours of trying to be someone worthy of your love.
My friend Charles once told me that things would change but not always for the better.
But as long as you’re a King then you’ll eventually find yourself someone as phenomenal as Coretta.
No amount of morphine can ease the pain; it may seem insane but I still take pride in the scars I gain.
I have pain that runs deeper than still waters do – only the ocean can fathom what I’m going through.
I hope the bridges you burn illuminate your path because the darkness will distort your vision.
But you will hardly notice the difference because you always have your eyes closed and never really pay attention.
26 | 31 Poems for August 2016

Wondering how life will pan out from this moment on as ****** by Usher keeps echoing in the background.
Maybe it was wrong of me to have you stay by my side while your mind was already drifting a million miles away from me.
My love and faith will be dissected; you’ll even go as far as quoting me out of context based on the messages that I’ve sent.
But that’s something that I should expect because I’m also at fault like tectonic plates.
Charles once told me that things would change but not always for the better.
He said as long as I prove myself to be King then I’ll eventually find someone as phenomenal as Coretta.
But Charles I’m slowly losing hope, that Skype call we had on August 14th gave me some perspective and maybe I’m doing something wrong.
Because all day I’ve been sitting here all alone while contemplating if I am going nowhere fast.
Wondering how life will pan out from this moment on as Let It Go by James Bay keeps playing on the radio.
Maybe it was wrong of me to have you stay by my side while your mind was already drifting a million miles away from me.
Kay-Rosa Mar 2019
I say  
‘Marguerite Johnson’
and you don’t know.
Who she really was, what  
She really did.

Maya, a childhood nickname turned professional
Angelopulos, past other, Greek and unknown.

She was a poet, a woman of many
words that changed America.
Words that touched our hearts,
Words that opened our eyes
to truth.

She was an actress, in the Obie-winning “The Blacks”,
Off-Broadway, “Calypso Heat Wave”, inspiring her singer.

She was a singer, writer of song.  
West Coast and
Hawaiian nightclubs were once
Embellished by her voice.

She was a dancer, a portrayer of emotion, through movements
Rhythmic and graceful
Calm, phantasmagoric, and beautiful.

She was an author.
She knew why,  
“The Caged Bird” sang.
But, once. She had no voice.

Traumatized and scared. Age seven, suffered at the hands of the distant mother’s boyfriend.
She went mute,
feeling responsible for their crime,

After her uncles rid the world of the problem.  
A candle’s flame blown out.
Mrs.
Flowers

A friend and fellow lover of the spoken word.
Helped Maya find her voice.
Introduced Hughes,
Du Bois, and Lawrence Dunbar.

Then, the canonical Shakespeare,  
Dickens, Poe.

She was a scholar.
She was a mother.  
She was a fighter.

She stood for her rights and the rights of her people.
She stood, side by side, with many known and recognized.
Malcom X.
Martin Luther King Jr.
His assassination on her birthday stopped the celebration forever.

Then she sent flowers to Coretta until her death in 2006.
She was an inspiration.  

I say
“Maya Angelou”
And now you know.
Elizabeth Jan 2016
I looked at Dr. King's grave and felt his love
Support my lungs while I breathed in air
Full of chapel pew and piano key ivory.
The world seemed more manageable in the presence of his granite home.
His wife was nestled under his knee,
She curled under his wings
And I could feel the rumble of their flutter on the concrete
Underneath my arches.

I sat in Dr. King's Baptist Church
And saw his mother's shoe prints
Stitched into the floor,
Where she smelled those wooden benches in her leaving breath.

I watched Dr. King's childhood home
As his father walked into the door frame,
And Coretta looked on in a Sunday school dress down the street,
Longing for smooth skin
Of bible infused hand.
I felt the same rumble in my toes.

I saw the world in twenty faces
All watching with me,
History in shadow.
We smiled at the colors of our skin
Standing together,
Watching the memory of a house that created our shared joy
And hope for the next minute to be more equal than the last.
Renard Jackson Jun 2016
Started from good to bad
from nice to eh
How things can be so liberal to takeoff heads because of a couple of words said
My senses tell me to have more common sense and dollars are not the only things that make cents
Enticed by your demeanor
Influenced by the way you move
Encourage through your words
I'm lost in you and it's a struggle to find myself again
Though it's bonds and sleepwalking nights over here, on the other side the grass is greener
One day I'll get over my pride
Faulting the situation trying to find every excuse
Questioning myself now
Losing grip of reality hoping for my Coretta
Misconceptions of my image as I am just a fish in a big pond fighting to get off this hook
With insides as cold as ice my flesh is humid as Florida summers
I push on or digging this hole deeper contemplating taking my head off with this same shovel
Consuming too much everything coming from a different angle
Disturbed but interested in awe of suspension
Reaching out to receive nothing but to lend a hand
But all you get is criticism and taunts, fake smiles and grunts
And here you stand still. ......
Emotions run deep life is to exhilarating to get caught on one thing just don't get caught up

— The End —