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Aztec Warrior  Nov 2015
POEM 92
Aztec Warrior Nov 2015
SEDUCTION**

(for a friend who asked if I were "Caucasian". My answer: no one determines the nationality of their skin when born. But all of us can determine who we are and who we stand with and what our lives mean. I chose long ago to stand against oppression and to stand along side those fighting their oppression. Not as a white man, but as a human being)

You beat your ‘tana’ drum
with ancient, calloused hands
making it speak relentlessly,
as if you were rain soaked wind
announcing moonless death.
As it echoes down brown, barren rivers,
its crescendo can be heard
crashing through tangled undergrowth
until it reaches the
timeless and continuous sea.
~~~
The ocean has swallowed
millennia of hardships,
where,  on this very spot,
blood flowed freely, soaking
these sands with slavery’s misery.
It was here
the Great Rock at Toubab Dialaw
was  born.
Born and grew.
                            Grew from endless
emptiness, borne as the
beating of human flesh.
It was hacked, torn from limb
and shackled, then
dispersed to distant shores.
Blood, red with resistance,
soaked the sands,
colored the tides,
and choked the air with its
beat, beat, beat,
beatings and death.
Blood ran thick with sated flies
and when you looked into their eyes,
all you saw was  bottomless ocean.
Empty
           Yet pulling,
like seduction.
~~~
You beat your ‘tana’ drum
with hardened, calloused hands,
and your rage.
You make it speak seduction,
enticing us to dance on
Toubab Dialaw’s ****** shores,
staring into the bottomless eyes of death.
It is pulling
            pulling,
                      pulling us
into its seduction.
Filling us with your anger,
with your rage;
filling us with your drumming tongue
and the unquenchable thirst for revolution;
for all these wrongs to be undone.

written as redzone 3.21.07
posted by Aztec Warrior
I wrote this poem several years ago and under the pen name 'redzone'. I looked for it last night in my notebook because of a conversation with a friend about the ugliness of slavery and continuing outrages against Black folks in today's america.
Tana Young  Sep 2013
"No sir."
Tana Young Sep 2013
I went to church Sunday like I always do
My Pentecostal Pastor could see right through me
He looked into my eyes and asked me
"Are you living for God Tana?"
I looked straight back at him and said
"Yes sir."
Charlie Jun 2015
Tana,

I got sad again, and if I was like everyone else, I would blame you for it.
I care too much to say that it's your fault, maybe I like you.
I wish Maddi and I could just move out and not deal with other people and we'd be happy.

I fell again in more ways than one; I fell in love with you, I fell in love with who you are.
I fell into my sadness, shrinking into my body, confused and disoriented.
I wish I could hate you and then kiss you and make love to you all in the same night, then leave you and not speak to you for a couple weeks.
I wish I could feel shame and sorrow and then, call you up and say I was sorry really half-assed and you'd forgive me like I did.
I wish I could blow cigarette smoke in your face like the regulars at work do to me, with their slack-jawed minds and gas station lighters.
I wish I could treat you like a toy, but I can't and I won't, because I know that when you're sad, you'll call me and I'll feel bad if I treat you like you're unimportant.
Please don't leave again because if you do, I'll probably just get worse

— The End —