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ardnaxela Dec 2022
Historical-ly,
Black Colleges
Have been chronically
underfunded,
unacknowledged,
Hell -
Unappreciated.

Black culture curates
Common culture.
Black coins buy
Booming business -

Black universities
Breed
Brilliance, Undeniably.

Understand

Black children

Contain unrelenting
Capacity,
Cause upheaval -

Controlled, creative
Chaos;
Coerce
Change.

History
Continues.

Heads held high -
Commemorating heroes.

Celebrating

Hope-
Bravery-
Coexistence-
Unity-
Hope-
Bravery-  
Coexistence-  
Unity-    
Healing-Balanced-Charismatic-Unequivocal-ly

Colorful


Blacknes­s.
HBCUs are an essential commodity to a significant facet of our population. Protect them at whatever cost.
I S A A C Dec 2022
i love being in a pitch-black room
the void, the lack thereof
cannot see my fingers or
the things i could never love
it's the peace i crave, my hidden cave
no one to tend to
no one to pretend to
i love being in a pitch-black room
no peeking, just sleeping
dreaming of things anew
unfolding the possibilities, new brew
I S A A C Dec 2022
wounded by arrows
some missed but some hit
made my heart split
1 half hates, 1 half loves
1 black raven, 1 white dove
balance my mess
balance my loss
painting with the burgundy blood
Edoardo Alaimo Oct 2022
I thought, boldly
That I could see your colours,
Hidden,
Under many layers

I see some azure,
Soft as the sky,
A welcoming, warm pink,
Just as real sunsets

Then some ****** red,
Where it hurts,
And a pitch black
In the shadows of your mind

I am just a fool,
Pretending to understand,
As you continue to refresh,
And brush new paints

Pick the best tones,
Let the canvas flourish,
Blooming like nature,
  In all seasons

I just hope
I can see a few of them
A few colours,
That would do

Or maybe,
A bit of you
13 Oct 2022
remember sight degrades over time,
use it to see the best colours of your life,
sweet or sour may them be.
you are precious
E. A.
aviisevil Sep 2022
13/9/22


black the soil
black the stone
black the grass

black the fruit
black the sepal
black the seed

black the thorn
black the petal
black the leaf

black the eye
black the breath

black the dye
black the flesh

there's a dead rose that
grows in my garden




@writeweird
Saša Milivojev Sep 2022
Sasha Milivoyev
BLACK STONE

Mecca, Saudi Arabia

Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska


By the Black Stone
Sinful, on my knees,
with tears in my eyes,
I'm pleading,
begging for forgiveness,
when blood-red turned the skies,
the stone grew darker,
blacker than night,
and it used to be white,
as luminous as the daylight,
when from the Garden above,
it fell many a warm Mays ago,
when it fell from Jannah,
far, far down below,
it was whiter than milk
and whiter than snow,
blackened from within,
from human malice and sin.

Never let it slip away,
the dushman came from far away,
tried bringing Kaaba to its knees,
killing Muslims,
the desert still bleeds,
covered in corpses,
devoured by rodents and beasts.

The Judgement Days are dawning soon.

The Sun will stop,
merge with the Moon,
Into the particles
the hills will be shattered,
spill like the honey that is melted,
Allah will be a righteous judge to everyone,
To the fires of hell, the monsters will succumb,
The stone will shine
with whiteness of dazzling purity,
The stone will be singing eternally,
The songs of joy, love and harmony.


Saša Milivojev

Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska

www.sasamilivojev.com
Copyright © by Sasha Milivoyev, 2022
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2022
Keeping a bit private
after the night
the sun goes all out.
Over the painted rose
and through the shady clouds.

East west north and south
at the end of the day always returns
the twilight could never forget  
a lurking little mole
the sun's missing beauty spot!

The ambling twilight goes deep
it isn't all black
a full moon shines on her brow
neither the night is pitch dark
down the mountains of floating stars.

Tomorrow again yet in the broad daylight
the sun will tuck into a throw of twilight
something is still private a black mole in the light.
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2022
A paintbrush on fire
it isn't yet done.

Paints in broad daylights
in cool cloudy darks
often relaxes down the line
when the rain pours down
and the flute is on play
it isn't yet done.

The sea at the clement eve
strives to splash over
this rainbow-kissed brush
the moon will thaw the billow
with moonlight
before the waking
sleeping beauty's eyes
and the night will pour over it,
it's full bowl eternally pitch black
only to see lighting up
zillions of stars
on the paintbrush
it isn't yet done!

Apparently that looks only kohl
the night eyes in within a colour
eternally weighed down
out of sight mass hues
looking to visualise a scoop
paints yet one more first light.
Full of colours the paintbrush
it isn’t yet done!
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2022
A drop of beauty spot
a black mole
or a cool shady sketch
on the golden brow
of a sunny day.
The evening is always
welcome at the end.

The night from off site
pops on her way
however pitch dark
weaving even more black
across that kohl-pollen
embroidery
a sky full of stars
will keep an open eye!
Àŧùl Jul 2022
Looming here since forever,
Death now seems much closer.
Guzzling oil hovering over,
End has struck the hour.

In the cockpit, the air is stinking,
Reminder of an unwashed mind.
Trick or treat with enemy calling,
Killing their unsuspecting selves.
Oh Satan!

Wretched enemies of humanity,
They unleashed the zombie army.
Why don't they go out to fight?
Left that role to the zombies, yeah.

Father Time will settle scores,
For this Father is a log keeper.
Exploiting civilians for gains they do,
Taking them just as junk in the room.
Wait till they all revolt, yeah!

When in darkness, put on the lights,
Shadow play from childhood calling.
Dropping explosive ****, these birds,
Hand of Doom has struck the hour.

Night of Finale, Satan waiting,
Hide deeper, the nukes come calling.
Burning homes, factories & inns,
Satan shying, wraps His wings
Oh Satan!
Even Satan is scared of the human violence.

My HP Poem #1955
©Atul Kaushal
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