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Man Aug 23
I've listened to the Jamaicans wail
Englishmen too
The Africans & Asians the same
And of my own kinsmen, the Irish, have I heard long cry
Of their lowlands
Mother or Father
Babes we are, to the branch whose fruits we partake
Ready for fight, readily we die
To cut down the lecherous head
Of the beasts that stalk
Be ye a Great Kingdom or States United
No union knows our unity
For we cannot be organized
We are grassroots
We are the homeland
For when your troubles have become foreign
Be domestic
Show us your wings African child,
Prove to the world you can fly:
You know you can fly.

Show us your soul African child,
Prove to the sky it is bluer:
You know it is bluer.

Show us your Magic African child,
Prove to the night you are a dream:
You know you are a dream.

Show us your fire African child,
Prove to all you are a dancing flame:
You know you are a dancing flame.
One would think of Aswan
Or the Three Gorges Dam

But here we are discussing
A dam a few metres wide
And a couple more metres long

And barely up to your waist
If you stood at the deepest part
The African rains
Were plentiful
This year

Even with the best rain
The dam doesn't spill
It's always a point to be made

This is a family dam
On the family property
Strange in a city...

But still pretty
Surrounded by grasses and reeds
Covered in water-lilies
The occasional heron
Stops by

Its slender grey neck -
A sight
Truth is where I found you

In the cusp high over ultraviolet waves

Between your time as a slave and mine

Fighting off the results of *******.



You were a woman who accepted no

Excuses for the lack of rights

For our mothers and daughters,

Demanded more for those who followed.



I am a woman who accepts that most

White men are fixed on one idea

As to how the world should be,

And it is on me to change their minds



Through words, or actions, but never

Through guns or swords, white bonnet

Wrapped on my head as I push

Away racial insults and profanity.



You never forgot to say who a woman

Could be, what a Black woman could do

When we eschewed weakness and misogyny.

No one helped you. You just carved the trail.



No one helps me either. That’s what I learned

It means to be a Black woman.

To be strong, to plough, to plant, to raise barns.

That’s what you did. I do that metaphorically.



Now, I raise children, plough through journals

With my pen. I always remember to never

Pin my tongue for fear of other’s thoughts

This is the way you walked.



I try to get my half measure full,

But I think it is a little less

Difficult for me as it was

For you. Thank you for the

Quarter you earned.



It took us a long way, but

Today, the world is still

Turned upside down

And we are working

Hand by hand to



Flip it

Right side up
This poem is an excerpt from Katerina Canyon's new poetry book Surviving Home. Surviving Home is a reflection on African American heritage and up-bringing, racism, and abuse. It will be released in December 2021, published by Kelsay Books.
Cozyflowz Dec 2020
Rip to those who fought to make sure we live,
The street is bitter and sweet to give,
Only the bravest and strongest can survive in the hood.

Black lives matters
To survive the street you will get batters,
Black kills black and forgotten the motor that says unity we stand.

O arise thy hoodlums come,
Raise from the gutter, badly tortured, mistreated with bad conduct.

Government promote the violence caused by this thugs in the street,
Our people are dying while they show nothing to stop
the killing in the street.

Street bullet caused by this
hoodlums robs man of his soul,
The people are not in save hands,
Government got no plans for the citizens, 20-10-20 can never be forgotten.

What are their plans for the youth in 2021, they keep on muting,
Letting many souls puking,
Will 2021 be like it's brother 2020,
Many forbids,pray,  fight hard to abstract from the hood.

Street bullet where people **** to make money,
Country flag stain with blood and pains,
Street with no determination,

Street with no hope
No plans for the generation
May God help us all.
True story in Africa
Essie okoli Nov 2020
With bloodshot eyes and placards
We're on the streets for our sisters' plight
Marching ,chanting and praying
For our brothers that lost their lives.

We refuse to accept your lies
We continue fight for the truth and life
And some of you say it's our sister's fault
She walked right into this chaos
If she didn't, it would have saved us
The stress and rumors that are before us.

Same thing you said about our daughters
Who are still trying to write letters
Who are in classes and taught alphabeta.
They should have known this would happen
They should have known that this uncle
Would penetrate after he opens.

I wonder how unfeeling you are
How you sit back and encourage justice to wither.
I tried to accept that you would later
See reason with the victim's father
Or mother or sister or friend because we're meant to help each other.

Remember that girl you held and plundered is indeed someone's daughter.
I wrote this during the Black lives matter movement, never got to put it up until now lol. I hope y'all like it
Essie okoli Nov 2020
A wild fire in her heart
Lightening in her eyes
Yet there's a gag over her mouth
And her arms are bound
Her legs in quick sand
Her steps uncertain and light




Dressed in black silk
And the most expensive perfume
Ginika bleeds
From her ears, nostrils and the corner of her lips.


Skin like honey and smooth like egg shell
Yet marked with traces of the heart's wound.
Upturned lips tinged with the colour of pain .
Paraded like the finest of masquerades.
Head held high but the whole world on her shoulders.
     Her picture on the magazine doesn't stop the whispers.
ce-walalang Oct 2020
i want to travel the world one color at a time

...see the color of the first sunrise
...sip black tea on London rain
...linger at the heart of the Big Apple
...gaze at the pink skies of California
...cliff dive into the Aegean blue sea
...marvel at the green grass of the African safari
...get lost in the land with the whitest snow
...witness the sunset in Rio
...travel in space and walk the gray surface of the moon

but i’d rather pull all the shades and wander the great indoors
where the color of comfort is...

my unmade bed
i'll travel the world with words instead
Tehndai Aug 2020
JOY
In the midst of terror and madness
The only joy comes from sadness
Masked behind a facade
Joy is surface value, conscience made
Plastic made, like cigarette smoke, it quickly fades
Are you reading into it
Bellow laughs and smiles, one might assume you're innocent
But the truth is, noone is innocent, even when you're an infant
Infact even babies **** insects
I'm from a place where it feels like its ****** to show love to your blood, you'll turn into a reject if you dont eject the "the white man mind".
Still don't know what joy is.
I don’t know what we are trying to say Native America…
White man and the Indian?
Fight for your right,
Fight for your white.
Apache -
Underlined in black "indian" ink Africa!
I'm trying to pinpoint the source of racial conflict both in society and the quiet of one's mind
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