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Elvan May 2019
Unspoken Wisdom Speaks
What has Integration taught the American *****? It taught the ***** how to struggle, scrap, and scrape, as well as, tries as he may, in order to provide for his family; in time hopefully, he determines in life this may if not always will be necessary

What has Integration taught the American *****? It taught the ***** that society has a hefty, respect for a winner, yet it has a habit of closing as many doors as possible which limits the *****’s ability to obtain this elusive and yes lofty goal in life

What has Integration taught the American *****? It taught the ***** that society expects a certain amount of personal initiative yet it attempts to discourage the ***** at every corner by forcing them to focus on the obstacles and roadblocks rather than the strategy necessary to overcome the difficult tasks at hand

What has Integration taught the American *****? It taught the ***** that it is possible to bootstrap your way to success, however, it fails to inform the ***** exactly where the bootstraps are kept

What has Integration taught the American *****? It taught the ***** that the American dream can be accomplished by anyone who truly has a desire to obtain it; however, it fails to inform the ***** that the dream has various levels of reward and some are quite egregious

What has Integration taught the American *****? It taught the ***** that failure is a natural course of life when one seeks to obtain a level of success; however, it failed to tell the ***** that the obstacles for some are not nearly as challenging as it is for others

What has Integration taught the American *****? It taught the ***** that we are offered an entry level position and we should be grateful for this success and if we seek more; then the challenge of being accepted is added to the challenges of preparing for the next level

What has Integration taught the American *****? It taught the ***** that mastering the skills of the next level can be a practice in futility if his behavior doesn’t fit in with what is considered the norm for American Negroes in the eyesight of greater society

What has Integration taught the American *****? It taught the ***** that obtaining the goal is only a part of the battle; praise from, recognition by, and acceptance of your supposed peers is the next challenge

What has Integration taught the American *****? It taught the ***** to try as he may and he may be granted entry, providing that he has honestly tried as he might (SMILE)

What has Integration taught the American *****?
On’ know
Exclusively and Originally Written By Elvan
Lost in shadows Jan 2014
From the 1880s into the 1960s, a majority of American states enforced segregation through "Jim Crow" laws (so called after a black character in minstrel shows). From Delaware to California, and from North Dakota to Texas, many states (and cities, too) could impose legal punishments on people for consorting with members of another race. The most common types of laws forbade intermarriage and ordered business owners and public institutions to keep their black and white clientele separated.

Examples of Jim Crow Laws

Nurses: No person or corporation shall require any white female nurse to nurse in wards or rooms in hospitals, either public or private, in which ***** men are placed. (Alabama)

Buses: All passenger stations in this state operated by any motor transportation company shall have separate waiting rooms or space and separate ticket windows for white and colored races. (Alabama)

Railroads: The conductor of each passenger train is authorized and required to assign each passenger to the car or the division of the car, when it is divided by a partition, designated for the race to which such passenger belongs. (Alabama)

Restaurants: It shall be unlawful to conduct a restaurant or other place for the serving of food in the city, at which white and colored people are served in the same room, unless such white and colored persons are effectively separated by a solid partition extending from the floor upward to a distance of seven feet or higher, and unless a separate entrance from the street is provided for each compartment.

Pool and Billiard Rooms: It shall be unlawful for a ***** and white person to play together or in company with each other at any game of pool or billiards. (Alabama)

Toilet Facilities, Male: Every employer of white or ***** males shall provide for such white or ***** males reasonably accessible and separate toilet facilities. (Alabama)

Intermarriage: The marriage of a person of Caucasian blood with a *****, Mongolian, Malay, or Hindu shall be null and void. (Arizona)

Intermarriage: All marriages between a white person and a ***** person or between a white person and a person of ***** descent to the fourth generation inclusive, are hereby forever prohibited. (Florida)

Cohabitation: Any ***** man and white women, or any white man and ***** woman, who are not married to each other, who shall habitually live in and occupy in the nighttime the same room shall each be punished by imprisonment not exceeding twelve (12) months, or by fine not exceeding five hundred ($500.00) dollars. (Florida)

Education: The schools for white children and the schools for ***** children shall be conducted separately. (Florida)

Juvenile Delinquents: There shall be separate buildings, not nearer than one fourth mile from each other, one for white boys and one for ***** boys. White boys and ***** boys shall not, in any manner, be associated together or worked together. (Florida)

Mental Hospitals: The Board of Control shall see that proper and distinct apartments are arranged for said patients, so that in no case shall Negroes and white persons be together. (Georgia)

Intermarriage: It shall be unlawful for a white person to marry anyone except a white person. Any marriage in violation of this section shall be void. (Georgia)

Barbers: No colored barber shall serve as a barber [to] white women or girls. (Georgia)

Burial: The officer in charge shall not bury, or allow to be buried, any colored persons upon ground set apart or used for the burial of white persons. (Georgia)

Restaurants: All persons licensed to conduct a restaurant, shall serve either white people exclusively or colored people exclusively and shall not sell to the two races within the same room or serve the two races anywhere under the same license. (Georgia)

Amateur Baseball: IT shall be unlawful for any amateur white baseball team to play baseball on any vacant lot or baseball diamond within two blocks of a playground devoted to the ***** race, and it shall be unlawful for any amateur colored baseball team to play baseball in any vacant lot or baseball diamond within two blocks of any playground devoted to the white race. (Georgia)
Elvan Mar 2019
Unspoken Wisdom Speaks
Where has the old American ***** school teacher gone? The teachers who knew how to reach deep within themselves to find a way to touch a student’s heart and mind by encouraging them to set goals and dreams that fit their particular circumstances, while believing in even greater possibilities for her student’s futures

Where has the old American ***** school teacher gone? The teacher who had the amazing ability to look into the soul of a child and bring out a smile, as well as, a desire to achieve, if only to please the teacher

Where has the old American ***** school teacher gone? The teacher who freely spent their time figuring out ways to motivate a child to a higher degree of success without considering the idea of a reward except for maybe a beaming smile of accomplishment upon her student’s faces

Where has the old American ***** school teacher gone? The teacher s who found the rewards of service to a student satisfying enough to encourage them to seek out another who could use their caring direction and assistance

Where has the old American ***** school teacher gone? The teachers who were stern in their demands and uncompromising in their expectations of a child because they understood society would demand more of our children than of one of their own because we are programmed with the idea of having to be better than to get equal to; a belief that has assisted many of us to a higher level of achievement

Where has the old American ***** school teacher gone? The teacher who would not consider changing a grade to a higher one when a child’s efforts did not justify it because he realized society expected a ***** child to put forth much more effort than one of its own or suffer the harsh reality of failure over and over again

Where has the old American ***** school teacher gone? The teachers who were hated and feared by most students of the school yet revered for their integrity and unwavering commitment to their personal standards of educating our children

Where has the old American ***** school teacher gone? The teacher who could laugh and smile with you as easily give you the lower grade earned when you failed to meet the expected standard to achieve a higher one

Where has the old American ***** school teacher gone? The teacher whose uncompromising standards set a child’s mind in the direction of achieving success at, whatever, the cost necessary in the amount of time they had to spend preparing, studying, and learning  

Where has the old American ***** teacher gone?
Absorbed into an assimilated society; otherwise gone, lost, disappeared, swallowed up by the great progression known as Integration

Where has the old American ***** teacher gone?
On’ know
Exclusively and Originally
Written by: Elvan
Una voz ancestral,
un tambor africano
y un verso elemental
El ***** en el Perú
actualmente no sufre,
ya no hay esclavitud
ni azufre.
Le dieron tibio baño
en tina de jabón
porque en su ama dio el germen
que no tuvo el patrón.
Del seno de mi abuela
a mi madre brindó,
el hijo del amito
mamó, mamó, mamó.
Y mi abuelo con su amo
en la Casa ´e Jarana
cantujaron de alirio,
cantujaron replana.
Y en la casa ´e jarana
-con el Amito Viejo-
bailaron mis hermanas
zamacueca y festejo.
El padre de mi amito
de mi abuela gustó
y mi abuelo a su amita burló.
Yo le dijera "primo"
a ese blanco travieso
de cabello enrizao
y de labio muy grueso...
El ***** en el Perú
actualmente no sufre,
ya no hay esclavitud
ni azufre.
Más ha sufrido el *****
nuestro hermano de Cuba
descendiente directo
nagó, yoruba.
Más ha sufrido el *****
muerto en Santo Domingo
por los diarios abusos del ******.
Más ha sufrido el *****
cantor de Panamá
que el ***** jaranista
de acá.
Más ha sufrido el *****
labrador de Haití
que el zambo guaragüero
de aquí.
Más ha sufrido el *****
del morro y la favela
que mi padre y mi madre
y mi abuela.
En fin, más sufre el *****
de Harlem a Lousiana
que nuestra gente negra
Y al "problema del *****"
-segregación racial-
el mundo permanece
Quiero aguda mi rima
como ***** de lanza.
Que otra mano la esgrima
si alcanza.
Yo jamás con voz hurgo
Yo ja... ¡Johanesburgo!
Cuando en Johannesburgo
llegue el "Día de Sangre"
yo quiero estar allí,
Cuando en Johannesburgo
llegue el "Día de Sangre"
debemos estar todos
¡Hijos de negra madre!
Con la voz ancestral
el machete en la mano
y el verso elemental
Have you ever come to my country to Russia?
It may be nay or yes, but Russia is a strange country,
It is people are funny and lively, with strong sense for success,
Those from Moscow are tall and confidently walking in a bounce,
Those from hinterland Russia often display inferiority on the face,
But conventional Russian has a keen nose for property and success,
A scientist in Russia is a beacon of interest like a pastor in Africa,
All Russians are somehow intelligent with humour and strong success motive,
Like once the case of a Russian barren woman, in the city of Moscow,
She was a Muzhik by class disposition, but proselytized into Bolshevism,
By the then Bush fire of Vladimir Ilyanov Lenin through his song of workers,
She was thus a dear comrade or comradess? Her Name was Sofia Ludwickfna,
She had been barren, o no! Childless for generations and generations,
Her marriage had been on-off and on-off due to this misfortunate pale,
Of inability to bear a child at most a son to be name after Lenin,
Every Russian man condemned her after a short while of marriage
To public distaste whenever it was discovered that Sofia was barren,
As usual, Russian men hinge their love manners on the native wisdom that;
Bogy Vysoky Tsar Dalyko; meaning God is far a way but the tsar is near,
But one day when Sofia had celebrated her menopausal day of 40th birthday,
She realized that something like a lump is felt in her tummy,
She rushed to the medic at the high street Moscow
For clinical service lest the lump grows in to cancerous tumor,
But to her stark surprise; the medic declared her pregnant,
In fact two months pregnant, and nothing else,
She asked if the pregnancy carried a boy or a girl,
For she feared to sire a boy as it was only a peasant,
That mated her in the fields during the previous full moon,
But the medic declined a comment, as his technology was not fit,
To establish the fetal gender, may be she better tries America or Germany,
But any way, she walked home happy, whistling her best lyrical
Perhaps a sonnet to the revolution and Vladimir Lenin,
The ninth month came, and Sofia delivered peacefully,
In fact a bouncing baby boy, with strong jaws like a Moscow Muzhik,
It was a moment of her joy as the gods of Russia had remembered her,
The baby grew and developed so well, it suckled and swallowed with sound,
It kicked nicely and waved its spatulate hands; a young son of Russia,
And indeed the joy of the baby made Sofia to grow fat and fat,
She named the baby four names; Tsar Alexander Tolstoy Vladimir Lenin,
On one warm after noon, Sofia chose to have a nap under the jacaranda tree,
To feel the breeze as her baby suckled, light slumber over took her nerves,
Then she fell into a deep sleep, the baby was on her teats suckling and waving,
Making soft nice sounds of thaa thaa thaaaaaaaa!
Sofia began dreaming; she saw a very huge African man,
Utterly naked with bush hair on his deeply black ***** skin,
He was not circumcised; he came unto her making stupid sound,
Like wild Russian swine chasing a rhino, he came straight to her,
She began fighting and kicking the ***** away,
She kicked mightily in the style of Russian woman,
But the ***** was strong; he began biting off her *******,
One by on, he was biting and making gnomish ***** abracadabra,
She jumped at the *****’s kneck, she began strangulating him,
She pressed tight and tight, the ***** began making stupid sounds
Like a chimpanzee, again and again as she pressed hard into his Adams’ apple
Finally Sofia managed to **** the *****, and then she woke up from her sleep,
Only to realize it was not a ***** that she had killed, but her baby, it was dead!
She was a arrested by the KOSMOSOL and taken to the judge, accused for infanticide,
She recounted the ***** story on her defense, the judge and all Russians were agog,
They uniformly blamed the misfortune of Sofia on the increasing number of Negros in Moscow,
The judge ruled that all Negroes to be thoroughly beaten and chased out of Moscow,
To be confined in a more remote bushy area in the hinterland beyond the prison of Siberia.
jeffrey robin Jan 2015

                                              ­               ( free )

^^^                 ^^^                                                          

                                •     •

little ***** girl

All I see

A little ***** girl

On the way to school

I wonder what the school will look like !

Oh we
All have such ideas  !
About such things !



Little ***** girl

Does she cut herself with razor blades  ?
I don't know  !

It seems more like a white girl thing

When I was a boy I fell in love with only ***** girls

It seemed like the thing to do

You know
Heal the world

Ended up with a New York City
Italian babe !

We went to Berkeley

And became Hippie Freaks !


( and the years )


The lonely little ***** girl

Is trying to get to school   !

The lovely little ***** girl

Out upon the streets


I didn't heal the world

( as you must know
From the shape of things ! )

But I'm still trying

And I feel no Shame

No shame
LordxWilliamson  Dec 2014
LordxWilliamson Dec 2014
Yo soy *****

**** immigration and the racist white tèjanõs, please tell me how the hell would they ever know what I know, shout out to my Mexicans Hondurans and black Cubanos shut the border down call it the no fly zone. Adios Americanos me and my amigos are stealing ya women and playin em like pianos, vocal terrorist this lyrical revolt should be your primary interest. Public enemy number one the domestic hectic terrorist I'm influencing your white son, right to bear these nuts I'm taking the tea parties guns stealing your freedom from right up under you, all your jobs, and way of life, your point of view. I'm the original black power ranger hide your right winged minds if not I swear they'll be in danger. I am the broken brick the stone left unturned the rhythm of the wind the willingness to learn and the desire to fight and get what you earn. I am the individual placed on the no fly list with my hand balled into a fist cause my turbin is too tight and my beards to thick. I am the man choked to death by nypd for selling cigarettes now I'm rioting with my words doing lyrical pirouettes.  Yo soy ***** spitting jive like lingo I want a Pam Grier keep your Marilyn Monroe, from the 6th borough buckin like bronco they said finish em I'm educated and black had to hit em with the combo.  I'm non fictions Huey Freeman battling congress and their demons catch me flexing on the law lookin like the black He-Man Standing up for what I believe in writing in my notepad I stay steady schemin with my head up in the clouds I stay steady dreamin. Yo soy ***** freeze em like sub zero not concerned with dolores or the dinero yen or bills yo, I'm still waiting for marvel to make a Mexican superhero.
jeje Mar 2012
“N-E-G-R-O is that my name”??

Black white!
What do you see?
The color of my skin?!
The name *****!  ***** am I... ***** am I?
A Strong young black woman. I stand up tall n raise my head up high and say yes I will make it!
Black ... And white kids we all are people.
We all are people who have dreams and stand as one! One I am. Black and white we join our hands together.  And look upon those who have hatred against
black and white. To hate each other,
To disrespect each other
... we all are brothers and sisters.  Who am I?! I am a young educated black woman.
I stand and raise my hand up high and look down upon those who want me to fail... Like they say sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me!   What do you see when you look at me..? Do you see my eyes...? The shape of my lips... If I am intelligent or not? Am I educated? Or not. ...  The color of my skin?
The color of my skin. I may be judged of how I look or how dark I am.   Maybe called dumb and stupid! Just because I am black...  But oh yes I stand! I stand as a strong educated young black woman. Oh yes I stand! Is it the color of my skin that I am judged for the way I walk, the way I talk.  I adore the people, who stand before me and fight for colored people,
I respect them. I look up to them. I may be called a *****! A dark skin girl.
I stand, I stand and let the sun shine on me. I am not a minority, I am a priority ...  A black dark skin girl with brains that will succeed.  ***** I may be called ... The name I may be called. But I am proud to be an African American young woman.  I will rise.  Every day, every second, every breath I take. ***** I may be called but I definitely know I stand on top of mountains and seas. I stand to be superior! Black! The color of my skin! *****, the name that will always exist!  But I will never let that name N-E-G-R-O break me down.

“Nothing in all the  world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity”
-Martin Luther King Jr.

by Jeanna
Un gato *****
Robando almas
Como sombra bajo la litera
Fuma el gato *****
Saboteador de la suerte
Y llevándote a su cama
el gato ***** te acorrala
con su cola y sus garras
no deja en paz tu alma
algo la amenaza.

Un par de aceitunas
una ofrenda de la noche
te observa, te protege,
viaja con fantasmas
el gato ***** que te vigila
cuando tus sueños
se tornan astrales.
Vi, debe haber tres días,
En las gradas de San Pedro,
Una tenebrosa boda,
Porque era toda de Negros.

Parecía Matrimonio
Concertado en el infierno:
***** esposo y negra esposa
Y ***** acompañamiento.

Sospecho yo que acostados
Parecerán sus dos cuerpos,
Junto el uno con el otro,
Algodones y tintero.

Hundíase de estornudos
La calle por do volvieron:
Que una boda semejante
Hace dar más que un pimiento.

Iban los dos de las manos
Como pudieran dos cuervos,
Otros dicen como grajos,
Porque a grajos van oliendo.

Con humos van de vengarse
(Que siempre van de humos llenos)
De los que, por afrentarlos,
Hacen los labios traseros.

Iba afeitada la novia
Todo el tapetado gesto
Con hollín y con carbón,
Y con tinta de sombreros.

Tan pobres son que una blanca
No se halla entre todos ellos,
Y por tener un cornado
Casaron a este moreno.

Él se llamaba Tomé,
Y ella, Francisca del Puerto,
Ella esclava, y él es clavo
Que quiere hincársele en medio.

Llegaron al ***** patio
Donde está el ***** aposento,
En donde la negra boda
Ha de tener ***** efecto.

Era una caballeriza,
Y estaban todos inquietos,
Que los abrasaban pulgas
Por perrengues o por perros.

A la mesa se sentaron,
Donde también les pusieron
Negros manteles y platos,
Negra sopa y manjar *****.

Echóles la bendición
Un ***** veintidoseno,
Con un rostro de azabache
Y manos de terciopelo.

Diéronles el vino tinto,
Pan, entre mulato y prieto,
Carbonada hubo, por ser
Tizones los que comieron.

Hubo jetas en la mesa
Y en la boca de los dueños,
Y hongos, por ser la boda
De hongos, según sospecho.

Trajeron muchas morcillas,
Y hubo algunos que de miedo
No las comieron, pensando
Se comían a sí mesmos.

Cuál por morder del mondongo,
Se atarazaba algún dedo,
Pues sólo diferenciaban
En la uña de lo *****.

Mas cuando llegó el tocino
Hubo grandes sentimientos,
Y pringados con pringadas
Un rato se enternecieron.

Acabaron de comer
Y entró un ministro Guineo,
Para darles aguamanos
Con un coco y un caldero.

Por toalla trujo al hombro
Las bayetas de un entierro,
Laváronse y quedó el agua
Para ensuciar todo un Reino.

Negros de ellos se sentaron
Sobre unos negros asientos,
Y en voces negras cantaron
También denegridos versos:

«Negra es la ventura
De aquel casado
Cuya Novia es Negra
Y el dote en Blanco».
Cedric McClester Feb 2017
By: Cedric McClester

I am not your *****
Nor am I your black
As a matter of fact
I am not anyone
You choose to define
Other than a person
Of the human kind

I am not your *****
Nor am I your black
As a matter of fact
I escaped slavery
Many years ago
But the way I’m treated
You would never know

I am not your *****
Nor am I your black
As a matter of fact
Black lives matter too
Just the same as yours
We’ve fought and died in every one
Of your many wars

I am not your *****
Nor am I your black
As a matter of fact
I’m not for your convenience
Though you may think I am
See I’ve never had an uncle
By the name of Sam

Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017.  All rights reserved.
jeffrey robin  Apr 2013
jeffrey robin Apr 2013
Once I had a *****

Now he's hangin'  from a tree

Tortured, castrated
Broken *****,  bleeding


Once I had a *****
Now he's hangin' from a tree
Silhouetted by the moon
Once I had a *****
(An American *****)

Now he is gone

I seen him walkin'  down the Road

Goin' East

It's almost Dawn
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.

Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with
I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the
distillation, it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

The smoke of my own breath,
Echoes, ripples, buzz’d whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing
of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and
dark-color’d sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,

The sound of the belch’d words of my voice loos’d to the eddies of
the wind,
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms,
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag,
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields
and hill-sides,
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising
from bed and meeting the sun.

Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the
earth much?
Have you practis’d so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of
all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions
of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look
through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.

I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the
beginning and the end,
But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.

There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.

Urge and urge and urge,
Always the procreant urge of the world.

Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and
increase, always ***,
Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of
To elaborate is no avail, learn’d and unlearn’d feel that it is so.

Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well
entretied, braced in the beams,
Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical,
I and this mystery here we stand.

Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not
my soul.

Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen,
Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.

Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age,
Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they
discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.

Welcome is every ***** and attribute of me, and of any man hearty
and clean,
Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be
less familiar than the rest.

I am satisfied - I see, dance, laugh, sing;
As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the
night, and withdraws at the peep of the day with stealthy
Leaving me baskets cover’d with white towels swelling the house with
their plenty,
Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my
That they turn from gazing after and down the road,
And forthwith cipher and show me to a cent,
Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and which is

Trippers and askers surround me,
People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward and
city I live in, or the nation,
The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old
and new,
My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues,
The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love,
The sickness of one of my folks or of myself, or ill-doing or loss
or lack of money, or depressions or exaltations,
Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful news,
the fitful events;
These come to me days and nights and go from me again,
But they are not the Me myself.

Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am,
Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary,
Looks down, is *****, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest,
Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next,
Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.

Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with
linguists and contenders,
I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.

I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to
And you must not be abased to the other.

Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat,
Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not
even the best,
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.

I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning,
How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn’d over
upon me,
And parted the shirt from my *****-bone, and plunged your tongue
to my bare-stript heart,
And reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my

Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass
all the argument of the earth,
And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own,
And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own,
And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women
my sisters and lovers,
And that a kelson of the creation is love,
And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields,
And brown ants in the little wells beneath them,
And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap’d stones, elder, mullein and

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more
than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green
stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,
Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see
and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I
receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the ******* of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them,
It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out
of their mothers’ laps,
And here you are the mothers’ laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues,
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken
soon out of their laps.

What do you think has become of the young and old men?
And what do you think has become of the women and children?

They are alive and well somewhere,
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the
end to arrest it,
And ceas’d the moment life appear’d.

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?
I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know

I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash’d babe, and
am not contain’d between my hat and boots,
And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good,
The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.

I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth,
I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and
fathomless as myself,
(They do not know how immortal, but I know.)

Every kind for itself and its own, for me mine male and female,
For me those that have been boys and that love women,
For me the man that is proud and feels how it stings to be slighted,
For me the sweet-heart and the old maid, for me mothers and the
mothers of mothers,
For me lips that have smiled, eyes that have shed tears,
For me children and the begetters of children.

Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded,
I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no,
And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be
shaken away.

The little one sleeps in its cradle,
I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies
with my hand.

The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill,
I peeringly view them from the top.

The suicide sprawls on the ****** floor of the bedroom,
I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the pistol
has fallen.

The blab of the pave, tires of carts, sluff of boot-soles, talk of
the promenaders,
The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the
clank of the shod horses on the granite floor,
The snow-sleighs, clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snow-*****,
The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of rous’d mobs,
The flap of the curtain’d litter, a sick man inside borne to the
The meeting of enemies, the sudden oath, the blows and fall,
The excited crowd, the policeman with his star quickly working his
passage to the centre of the crowd,
The impassive stones that receive and return so many echoes,
What groans of over-fed or half-starv’d who fall sunstruck or in
What exclamations of women taken suddenly who hurry home and
give birth to babes,
What living and buried speech is always vibrating here, what howls
restrain’d by decorum,
Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made, acceptances,
rejections with convex lips,
I mind them or the show or resonance of them-I come and I depart.

The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready,
The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon,
The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged,
The armfuls are pack’d to the sagging mow.

I am there, I help, I came stretch’d atop of the load,
I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other,
I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy,
And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps.

Alone far in the wilds and mountains I hunt,
Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee,
In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night,
Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-****’d game,
Falling asleep on the gather’d leaves with my dog and gun by my

The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle
and scud,
My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from
the deck.

The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me,
I tuck’d my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time;
You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.

I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far west,
the bride was a red girl,
Her father and his friends sat near cross-legged and dumbly smoking,
they had moccasins to their feet and large thick blankets
hanging from their shoulders,
On a bank lounged the trapper, he was drest mostly in skins, his
luxuriant beard and curls protected his neck, he held his bride
by the hand,
She had long eyelashes, her head was bare, her coarse straight locks
descended upon her voluptuous limbs and reach’d to her

The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside,
I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile,
Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and
And went where he sat on a log and led him in and assured him,
And brought water and fill’d a tub for his sweated body and bruis’d
And gave him a room that enter’d from my own, and gave him some
coarse clean clothes,
And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awkwardness,
And remember putting piasters on the galls of his neck and ankles;
He staid with me a week before he was recuperated and pass’d north,
I had him sit next me at table, my fire-lock lean’d in the corner.

Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore,
Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly;
Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome.

She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank,
She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window.

Which of the young men does she like the best?
Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.

Where are you off to, lady? for I see you,
You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in your room.

Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth
The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them.

The beards of the young men glisten’d with wet, it ran from their
long hair,
Little streams pass’d all over their bodies.

An unseen hand also pass’d over their bodies,
It descended tremblingly from their temples and ribs.

The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the
sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them,
They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending
They do not think whom they ***** with spray.

The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his knife
at the stall in the market,
I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break-down.

Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil,
Each has his main-sledge, they are all out, there is a great heat in
the fire.

From the cinder-strew’d threshold I follow their movements,
The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms,
Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure,
They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.

The ***** holds firmly the reins of his four horses, the block swags
underneath on its tied-over chain,
The ***** that drives the long dray of the stone-yard, steady and
tall he stands pois’d on one leg on the string-piece,
His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast and loosens over
his hip-band,
His glance is calm and commanding, he tosses the slouch of his hat
away from his forehead,
The sun falls on his crispy hair and mustache, falls on the black of
his polish’d and perfect limbs.

I behold the picturesque giant and love him, and I do not stop
I go with the team also.

In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as
forward sluing,
To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing,
Absorbing all to myself and for this song.

Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what
is that you express in your eyes?
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.

My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my distant and
day-long ramble,
They rise together, they slowly circle around.

I believe in those wing’d purposes,
And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me,
And consider green and violet and the tufted crown i

— The End —