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Emma Mar 14
The great Beast of the World
They’ve come
They’ve come
They’ve come

The mighty, ferocious roar
Their anger have no limits
Their hunger have no bounds

They’re lurking everywhere
They lives in those we scorn
And within those ***** throngs

They’ve come to get us all!
What have we done to deserve this fate?
Such innocence yet we fall

Gather your gold
Gather your letters
Gather your shoes
Your bread and your butter

Such savagery
Such monsters
Flaming tongues
Knife blade garbles
Seeping into every nook and cranny

What have we done?
But give you a place to sleep?
What have we done?
But give you a way to live?
We are like you
Working in the fields
We only reap a different harvest
Of course not just coal and fuels

What have we done?
But give you recognition?
What have we done?
But put you where you belong?
Your tears are woven into our blankets
We wear your blood in stone
Don’t tell us we stand on the same rock and soil
We live a different birth

What have we done?
But give you food to put on your table?
Of grey water
And rock hard rye
That we found in a rotting corner of our pantry
Out of the goodness of our hearts

Oh why have you come
To lock us in your cages
We don’t belong where you live
Don’t come don’t run
And tear us into shreds
We only did what was right

Don’t come knocking at our front doors
With your jagged claws and yellow teeth
And those swollen eyes and lips
Don’t come and trample
All over our front lawn
And take what is rightfully ours

Heel! I say!
What has gotten into your head?
We have worked together so well
You and I
What has become
Of dog
And his Master?
The cost of free is:
four hundred years of slavery,
a billion pounds of gold,
decades of senseless brutality,
millions in captivity

and the body of yet another innocent man.

~ Inori
A poem written after the University of the Witwatersrand protests
labyrinth Feb 22
In case you are wondering, to whom I am addressing
I’ll clear that part for you, so you won’t have to be guessing

Aiming at the racist ones, words are my sole arsenal
And if you’re like them too, go ahead and take it personal

What I will emphasize may look to y’all as history
From humanity’s standpoint; it’s a big shame and mystery

It sure happened in the past, this ain’t a current topic
Or it’s maybe still around, hurtful and traumatic

Man was treated as goods, traded in public auctions
Disgrace was all over with no sign of conscience

Body wasn’t enough, you also wanted mind and soul
Wow! You must’ve paid a fortune to buy ’em all

Please answer me, Dear Sirs. What happened to empathy?
Do you know what the word refers? Taking the fifth already?

You never thought of yourself in the body of color
Yet gave long-*** speeches on dignity and honor

You were rough on the surface, to make them obey
Who knows how rotten in inside. And all that was okay

Captivated a race and gave them the stupid belief
That they were secondary and all they deserved was grief

Motivation was obvious; millions of things to take care
Slaves cost less than anything. You couldn’t even compare

Don’t run away now, we just heated the subject
He is a human being Mister, not a ******* object

Oh, I see, you don’t wanna face the sheer fact
That indeed your cruel ancestors attacked

These innocent African tribes for no good reason
In a barefaced manner despite the Age of Reason

And you’re not ready to redeem their deadly sin
Alright! Stand up and admit then. All humans are close kin

It’s **** important. Do you even know why?
That is to say to residues of racism bye-bye

Opportunity gap, project houses, ****** education
Are the real meanings of the word discrimination

Biased justice with never ending prejudice on Blacks
Are updated slavery forms deserving a good smack

You are mostly haughty for the things you didn’t earn
Race and color are given, but you have yet to learn

No man’s a property for your royal dynasty
Facing and accepting this takes a lot of honesty

Freedom was vague when society was stratified
Where the aristocracy were safely identified

By color, neighborhood, and school in the whole nation
In ******* good-old-days, during segregation

Do me a favor and don’t give me the cliché
That all **** sapiens had an equal say

It is not the truth even nowadays
Let alone back in those dark days

For all the years they have chosen to be violent
Slave owners don’t have the right to remain silent

Before giving me the crap on Afro-American’s wrongdoings
Let’s put you in their shoes and see how you’re doing

It’s not like Blacks need a defense from this ground
To see how they get even with you, just look around

Jazz, rap, hip hop, soul, reggae and blues for that matter
Non-black pants below waist, what a cross-cultural endeavor

Look at youngsters’ hands, when they’re saluting each other
Trust me, there is nothing white, it’s all from Black brother

In return is belittlement, denial, tyranny and attack
All while they are transforming and painting you solid Black

It all began in New York with the Harlem Renaissance
Artistic, rebellious and witty. Possibly the best response

I know what I’m talking about with absolute faith
Once my home address was 135th and 8th

Stop pompously calling this junk as modernity
It’s in fact nothing but big fat white sovereignty

Nonetheless you are more than welcome to anticipate
That in fact communities of color will emancipate

You from yourself in time, if you know what I mean
Too deep to grasp, huh? For what you have been

I can almost hear that you’re constantly asking me
While me being white, oh sorry. A brown maybe

Why on earth am I now irritating the past?
Like what happened back then is not manifest

I’m not even black, right. But in all fairness
I question the past to raise some awareness

I suppose it’s both because of my aching heart
Feeling in the history for this vile part

And also because of my Turkish nationality
That’s Europe’s Black these days, with Asian paternity

Add to that as well a keenness for reality
Truth needs to be cried out, it’s my personality

This way or that way, what difference does it make
Ignore who says it. Embrace the truth for God’s sake

Most great thinkers felt deeply for the human
With their vast and perpetual acumen

It’s not a duty assigned to philosophers only
We must do the same, so no race becomes lonely

There is no other way to the salvation of mankind
Notice it already! Don’t insist on being blind

If you’ve yet to realize what matters the most
It’s your efforts to solve the problem we diagnosed

Make no mistake, we don’t cry over spilt milk here
Action must speak louder than the words to clear

This longstanding injustice along with insincerity
A bleeding wound that is blocking solidarity

Here’s your chance to make it all right again
Treat people equally, I bet you’ll get an Amen

Kindly stop acting like nothing happened in the past
Labyrinth’s says it’s time for understanding at last

March 12th, 2019
This has been posted before as Quest For The Past. Copyrighted Content
Philomena Jan 27
Another day, another systematic nightmare
Commemorate a wonderful life
Bite me first, I'll bite you back
Melodramatic laughter
I stabbed a knife in my eye
Think I'm out my ******* mind
Brainwashed and I'm feeling fine
Destroy yourself it feels too good to fade away
Why, do I want to hurt myself?
Should I die for something else?
I let my conscience get in the way

We hope you have a lovely day
You don't want us to come out and play
Away, now now
There's nothing to see here
It's under control
We're only gambling with your soul
Whatever you do, just don't wake up and smell the corruption
Michael Luciano Dec 2020
I awoke from this dream in the rubble of my mind. Lost alone in there among the falling Sands of Time. Stricken by the knots that are tied with in my sheets. No more sickness mama please no more grief. All my screws are loose there's too much confusion. Let me fall onto myself into that dreamy illusion. I took the needle from my arm but it's still planted in my head. I've got that feeling I can't take and it's filling me with Dread. I want to slide on down where the muddy water creeps. Where the ****** river flows who's filled with sweet relief. I want to climb into my mind find Oblivion far away from the feelings of the body I live in. Take me to that place that we all want to go. Suspected fugitive lost out on that Lonesome Road. Your constant conversations have me twiddling my thumbs. She was a torturous deceiver with her hand upon my gun. The wind swelled with a gust and I woke from this dream lost all along the lonely streets looking like a fein. I stepped into a paradise searching for my mind. A gonner with a periscope see me from behind. I'm gaining on my final breath aiming for the moon. Sewing up my only close with a needle and a spoon. Drowning in the desperation brewing in my grief. Searching like a street cop lost along his beat. Awaken to the circus that same old ******* show. A sing-along of corpses hitchhiking down the road. The Badlands and sands of time it's the gritty kind of life. Batten down the hatches so to not let in the light. When dependency is slavery there is no kind of thrill. ****** ******* just a feeling kinda ill.
I was an IV ****** addict for a number of years, living in cars, tents, squats and the like. I was clean for a number of years untill this summer I caught the bug again, thankfully I've crawled back out of that cave once again. I suppose this Is an attempt to not forget. Written in prison in Pennsylvania 2016.
Indigo Nov 2020
our faces

all covered with sweat,

as y'all be yellin’ at us with threats,

our hands covered

with cuts and blood,

while our arms and feet,

be caked with mud

every day,

we be prayin’ to god

for our freedom to come,

ignoring all y’all sayin’ that we were born scums,

someday imma finally

leave this place

cuz’ them folks ‘round here

be claiming that black ain’t no race

all y’all folks be hootin

while callin’ my folks *******

while y’all be sittin there

rifle in hand,

finger on the trigger

y’all whipped us

tearin’ our families apart

but my ma always be sayin’

that things like kindness

comes from deep down

in our hearts

i kneel

strugglin to breathe

as you chain my neck,

and hands

but y’all push me to the ground again

as imma’ tryin’ to stand

i reckon myself i ain’t

gonna give up now

as all y’all ruin

the fields we plough

some know what life

is like without the

cuffs and chains

but the feeling feeling of freedom

is never the same

and some

that deserve it most

never leave and die

and i know that though their body is gone

their spirit always survives
Since a lot of BLM events have been going on... I felt it right to share the new version of this poem.
Toya Nov 2020
Drag me by the bales
Like piled on the floor
Lead me to the depths of blue's envy
Relinquish those nightmares by bingeing good dreams
Free me with freedom that is not prepared
With the fingers caress the trails of my face
With the thumbs wipe my fear
This is about triumph
No victory
Just a trapped me
Wrapped- in white cloth
Emancipated Oak tree
An old slave picture brought me here. Thank you.
Rosebud Oct 2020
The house ***** or the field ***** which one would you choose?. Is it the Uncle Tom or the Rebel, pick one they’re ain’t no in-between, no win or lose, ain’t no debate so you can’t refuse. 1963 brother Malcolm X sparked this topic in our community that exposed two different worlds. A tragedy hidden yet highlighted within blackness just like the massacre in Tulsa where everything around the people burned. Sit back and observe the two *****’s I’m about to discuss make sure you take it in and learn.

The house ***** lived close to his *****, wore his clothes and ate his food. The blue eyed peckerwood the house ***** would worship more than the Almighty, a saviour he was viewed. You see ******* up to ***** was mandatory but picking cotton wasn’t on their mind because they were too busy selling out their own to the devil, no pointy horns or red tail just a blue eyed demon even in the sun their skin would still be pale. The lighter the woman the more she could get close to the ***** as her skin reflected his. As the black woman laid on her back ***** would violate her womanhood whenever he pleased, his load he would unpack in her.  Her melanin no more as he would fill her up with crack, even though she would lay ever so still but clearly in discomfort she knew she was living in a house with someone who could shower her with gold plaque. It didn’t matter if ***** seed would spread and she would then be with child. No amount of whiteness could save the baby's fate from *****’s wrath as he would feed the infant to gators and make the mother watch. So rather than protest she would be showered in jewels more so pearls, *****’s wife would shame the black woman for her ***** curls and make her cover her hair with a head wrap but that didn’t stop ***** from straying. The house ***** tends to feel like the white man’s equal, becoming an informant always running back to ***** to tell on their people, regardless if a black man was going to get hanged by noon or a black woman was to be stripped and whipped by the moon or if ***** was set out to **** the child  soon.

The house ***** didn’t care it wasn’t them because they had an understanding with their ***** an unbreakable bond, but in all actual reality ***** didn’t care about the Uncle Tom *****, the white man was the pied piper playing his flute so the ***** had no choice but to dance around like his pet, no longer black but a ****. A lot of them are shown throughout history causing their own people misery just for the sake of security. Like Kanye with the president, Samuel L Jackson in Django with Monsieur Candy, Stacey Dash with her shambles look how these whitey’s made those *****'s an example turning them into samples. Race couldn’t be replaced; they were lost before Jordan Peele made The Sunken Place because their ***** brainwashes them into thinking they can walk at  the same pace.

The field ***** like Dr King had dream prayed to either God or the ancestors for their *****’s death. If they gathered enough strength from when their courage was beat down they could circle around this demon and watch him breathe his last breath. The field *****’s would get together and talk in secret codes about their freedom. But for some reason freedom for this ***** was treason so every Sunday the story Moses and the book of Exodus were erased so they wouldn’t get any ideas of escaping, yet that wouldn’t stop the *****’s hunger, apetite or cravings. I agree that a field ***** was true to his word but running was never his guarantee to his freedom, because once you were caught you were sent to the hanging tree. Strung up by the neck watch how they struggle to breathe and their eyes begin to fade or the white man could test their humanity make the field ***** afraid ultimately telling the ***** to make a trade your genitals or your foot go ask Kunta Kinte I’m sorry my bad I meant to say Toby because not only would they disfigure your body and break your soul but they will erase your true name.

A lot of them are shown in history. Martin pulled up with peace, killed. “By any means necessary” Malcolm said then bullets went flying, he was then deceased. Black people are constantly annihilated like cattle by the KKK now the police but the truth is the system is so corrupt that they’ve never pointed out that the two groups I’ve just mentioned have always been the same.

The house ***** or the field ***** which one would you choose? One takes all the abuse and the other one stays getting used. Even today both held in chains suffering from the hands of their *****’s  like I said in the beginning there is no win or lose, so I ask again who would you choose?.
inspired by Message To The Grassroots a public speech delivered in 1963 by Malcolm X.
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