Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Secret T Feb 9
Since birth you've had a target on your back  created by wicked people envious of the crown God ordained specifically for you 
The evils of world have always tried to ****** it from you
destroy your legacy **** your image
They created a malicious plan to make you seem worthless to everybody espically your own because if your own community doesn't see you worth the vicious cycle of destruction doesn't end
In spite of it all I still see you for who God made you to be
I vow to love you to life because you've recieved enough death threats.
Let’s recognize the real from the fake.
Before we take the real for the fake and make a real mistake.
We live life the way we were taught through school but are we awake.
Sometimes we hope for a better reality, our dreams could be a reality we once lived.
For my past dreams has come true.
Felt like I lived that moment before I lean towards the term Deja Vu.
What if we are smarter than we actually pursue to believe?
The scientist of the land says we only us a small percentage of our brain, man made theory.
They also believe we all evolved; evolution through apes and we adapt.
We changed form as we transformed but they deformed our minds to contain us.
To think we’re nothing but animals because of some studied similarities.
Knowledge is power but we listen instead of read and understand.
Our brains can’t grow if we accept to be caged in on demand.
My evolution started in Africa, ancestor brought over to build this land, we own no parts of.
Like death, bodies in the dirt, those memories disintegrate piece by piece.
Until we’re just labeled as a person like the rest and we live life until we rest forever caged.
Aaron LaLux Apr 2019
Another prophet who got his top knocked off,
this system’s toxic thought we’d found hope but lost it,
Nipsey Hussle shot down outside his clothing store Marathon,
live and die in LA grow up only to get shot down on Slauson in Compton,

and the irony is that he was taken out,
in the same neighborhood he had invested in,
from Proud2Pay to AfroTech Nip was a Community Activist,
in a system of force fed poisons he was medicine,

and maybe that’s why he was martyred,
just like MLK Tupac and Marley,
this is all real life in living color,
life’s not a Game but this is The Documentary,

every word true,

I mean do you,
think it’s just a coincidence,
that Nip was murdered when,
it was announced he was about to come out with a film,

about Dr. Sebi,
the herbalist,
who was also possibly murdered when,
he went public with claims of curing AIDS and other illnesses,

nothing random about this act of violence,
it makes so much sense when you think about it,
nothing senseless in the message,
I mean seriously think about it,

MLK shot on 4/4 at 39,
NIP shot on 3/31 at age 33,
why do the most violent things happen,
to the brothers that preach the most peace,

it all makes sense everything adds up,
but most will probably dismiss this just as another conspiracy,
I mean I guess it doesn’t matter ‘cause nothing will bring Cuz back,
RIP NIP Rest in Peace Nipsey another brother gone to young at 33,

and it’s all so eery it’s creepy,
all the above evidence plus,
“Having enemies is a blessing.”,
was his last tweet,

as the words of his last sound sit in my ears as they ring,

“**** I wish my n!gga Fats was here,
how’d you die at 30 somethin’ after bangin’ all them years,
Grammy nominated in the sauna shedding tears,
all this money power fame and I can’t make you reappear.”…


∆ LaLux ∆

LA 2019
I am not Wakandian.

I wish I could look at a map and say
there that’s where my people came from.
Save money, board a plane, fly
to my ancestral home, and see what made me.

But Africa is a big place
and I’m not Kenyan, Nigerian or Ethiopian.
I have no claims to their past
and no right to their future.

All I know is I have some melanin, ***** hair,
and the knowledge that my ancestors blood and bones
set the foundation for a nation
that hasn’t made its mind up about me.

So sometimes I wonder what if my ancestors
had survived sugar fields instead of cotton.
Faced whips on the islands, instead of the south.
Would I then feel at home because I could look and know.

Or would that leave me emptier since here is still not there
and a claim to there would make me less here.
I guess until I figure this out I’ll take a made-up country
to be my made-up heritage

I am Wakandian
So as black history comes to a close and i feel the blackest i have ever been. yet i am faced with more questions than answers
ConnectHook Feb 2018
It gets sour after a while;

that righteous quaver

that merely rousing oratory

superficial hagiography

state-sponsored martyrdom . . .

The old black and white

news-clip shots.

Yes, it was necessary;

the past was tense.

You overcame.

We got over it

gets sour after a while.
ConnectHook celebrates Black History Month.

Wait - -
isn't EVERY month Black History Month?
LJ Eaddy Nov 2017
Kings. Queens.
Consummation. Kids.
Chiefs of clans.
Children of chiefs.
Close knit communities.
Continued cycles.

Colorless crews.
Coins. Captures. Chains.
Chained to you.
Chained to the cruise.
**** me. **** he. **** she.

Check teeth,
Choose wisely.
Chastise. Cracked whips.
Change name:
Kunta, no Toby.

Change, charge.
Christ of captives,
“**** them!”
No, **** him.
Continue evil.

Break chains.
Knots, no more.
No, change chains.
Lose claims.
Coax comfort.

Contradict. Corrupt.
Cascaded crucifixions.
Charred chandeliers.
Coerce without cognition of
Coming chaos
Of civic correction.
Civilians conform society.
Combatants conquer and confer.

Cultural contributions.
Cultural appropriation.
Cultural controversy.
No complications.
No conversations.
Did not conceive,
Cannot convey.
Concede. Not Conceit.

Kings cower before
Crowns clarify.
Kings killed.
Queens cope. Queens cry.
Queens say,
“**** compliance!
**** cordial!”
Queens coordinate, combat,
Condemn, don’t compromise,
And command cessation
To corrupt civilization.
Queens continue
Coils, kinks, curls.
An alliteration of a colored peoples history.
Mio Seanachaidh Feb 2017
She was known as Eartha Mae born in the small town of North in the The Palmetto State

Her childhood was even a mystery that she wished to forget from suffering abuse and neglect all because of her skin color - a light pale complexion - commonly referred as "yella"

She was of fair complexion due to the racial mix of African-American, European, and Cherokee Native American descent

Eartha was poorly treated and abandoned by others till she was saved by a Good Samaritan and taken to New York

Nurtured and raised into the Big Apple flair, she flourished and sprouted like flowers from the Earth

Charismatic and mysterious, she was like her name - spiritual and intuitive, she had a deep connection to the Great Mother (Earth)

The elements on Earth resided within her

Earth is the body, Water set in blood, Air is in the breath, and Fire ruled a free spirit

As a dancer with the legendary teacher, Katherine Dunham, who motivated the shy young girl to blossom and shine

She learned new languages and traveled to far and wide exotic places soaking up foreign cultures and faces

She was always searching for love and acceptance and enjoyed it though short and brief until she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl that she affectionately named Kitt

Eartha's life was now complete now that she had her child - someone to cherish and love

Both were different as night and day but their love ran deeper and stronger than skin - everyone noticed the powerful bond that couldn't be severed

Eartha had a subtle sensuality with a rich silky velvet speaking voice that turned vibrant, versatile, and passionate whenever she sang

A commanding powerful stage presence with a royal and noble aura - she possessed the carriage of a divinely queen

Outspoken and bold, she was not afraid to tell the truth - it nearly cost her career and left her exiled out of America until her triumphant return to Broadway in 1978, when she performed in the play, Timbuktu!

Her career was resurrected and skyrocketed once more and led her to many more places and open doors bringing fans from old generations and new, the queen had returned and was living life rich and fully

A strong social activist, she fought racism and injustice bringing unity and peace in numerous subtle ways from dance to social causes, she was admired and loved for being different and a vocal advocate for the outcast and rejected

On Christmas Day 2008, she left the world behind with Kitt by her side

Although she's gone, she will never be forgotten - her legacy lives on in her music and lives she touched

Farewell, Eartha Kitt
The official nickname for South Carolina is The Palmetto State, referring to the state tree (the sabal palmetto).

Eartha Mae Kitt is Eartha Kitt's real name

"Yella"(High yellow) is a negative term depicting any light skinned black as "golden and fairskinned". It is a color reference to the golden skin tone of some mixed-race people. The term was in common use in the United States at the end of the 19th century and the early decades of the 20th century, but is now considered obsolete and sometimes offensive.

Orson Welles once called her the "most exciting woman in the world."

Kitt keeps her mother's legacy alive with the home decor business, Simply Eartha, in her way to honor her mother's memory
Listen to Things
More often than Beings
Hear the voice of fire
Hear the voice of water
Listen in the wind
To the sigh of the bush
This is the ancestors breathing
Those who are dead are not ever gone
They are in the darkness that grows lighter

And in the darkness that grows darker
The dead are not down in the earth
They are in the trembling of the trees
In the groaning of the woods
In the water that runs
In the water that sleeps
They are in the hut,
They are in the crowd

**The dead are not dead.
An excerpt by Birago Diop
which can be found in the African Philosophy Reader (Coetzee & Roux 2003: 723)
I am no longer master of my time
Master of these greynesses of time
What flowers can I weave for Emmett Till

the child whose soul in mine
lies bleeding....

I die alone from pride
I leave to Emmett Till his death
from horror at myself
An excerpt written by Tchikaya U'Tamsi (Congo), which can be found in the African Philosophy Reader (Coetzee & Roux 2003: 725).

This piece reflects on the brutal death of Emmett Till, who passed away at the age of 14, at the hands of white brutality in a time where negritude and negation was still very rife in America.
Stephanie Lynn Oct 2015
we were brought here on a boat
taken from our land against our will
we were sold for loose change
with a collar upon our throats
we fell beneath the soil
ate from the hands of the unholy
forced to take beatings on our backs
until our skin began to boil

while we break way from the chains
freedom ain't free in a land not built for us
we still must eat what we're fed
and follow commands from the reigns
Go back home, they tell us
Go back to Africa, they say
but they were the ones who took us
just so they could sell us

in an attempt to learn our roots
we stand in sand and land afar
hop on a plane of knowledge
in shiny over privileged boots
now Africa doesn't even know who we are
and they don't call their land our home
we aren't welcome, obrani they say
from our chest falls a shattered heart

poorly treated by our present and our past
it's no wonder we remain so broken
striving for equality until we die
misunderstood and fading fast
years of tiresome of repetition
the mission never changes
we just want to be accepted as human

Do you finally see the vision?
(C) Maxwell 2015
Next page