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A child's eyes show innocence
They are open to things new
They show with no discretion
They see all the things we do
A child's eye's receptive
To the joy and pain we see
It's a window, unobstructed
It's the way that things should be

A young man's eyes, they wander
They see the future not the past
They are open to advancement
They see things that we know don't last
A young man's eyes are blurry
They show them what they want to see
They show innocence is missing
They show that nothing good is free

The eyes of a middle aged man
They are the windows to the end
They see retirement is coming
They see that age is not a friend
The eyes of a middle aged man
They show regret and are all red
These eyes are always tired
They show what they should have done instead

The eyes of an old man show
The innocence of the child
They show recollection of their passage
They are full of love and they are mild
They old man's eyes look backward
More than at the future that is passed
They see the good times far behind them
They show the memories that will last

Your eyes, they are the window
To the world you see each day
They show you things of beauty
They show the world at play
An innocent sees nothing but
The world as it should be
So, take the time and clean your window
And see the world like me
Beat the rhythm
empty hand,
Iron cast chains
rattles command.

Ol' Boss Hogg,
baton raised
Self righteous fool
has need of praise.

In order that
he gain acclaim,
thinks with hate,
acts with shame.

Human beings,
commodity,
ships hold stacked
with those once free.

Bodies piled
upon high
you will not see
the strong ones die.

Scars embedded
on their backs
chained and shackled
to the racks.

We deal in branded
breathing stock,
Unload black vassal
from our docks.

Beat the rhythm
empty hands.
Iron cast chains
in far off lands.

We keep our skivvy,
wired hair blacks.
We work them hard,
we score their backs.

They do for us,
they work the field.
Grow the cotton,
pick the yield.

Keep the body,
take the mind.
Labour whatever's
left behind.

And if demeanour
does ever flinch.
We'll introduce you
Willie Lynch.

Beat the rhythm.
Empty hands
Iron cast chains.
Unfair demands.

Beat the rhythm,
shackled feet.
We take their worst
but can't be beat.
Anybody know who Willie Lynch was? Anybody? Raise your hand. No one? He was a vicious slave owner in the West Indies. The slave-masters in the colony of Virginia were having trouble controlling their slaves, so they sent for Mr. Lynch to teach them his methods. The word "lynching" came from his last name. His methods were very simple, but they were diabolical. Keep the slave physically strong but psychologically weak and dependent on the slave master. Keep the body, take the mind.  (Melvin B Tolson)

19th  July 2015
© Copyright Christopher K Bayliss 2014
Josiah Jack
never uttered a sound
when they dragged him away
from the scene.
when his poor body
was eventually found,
the treatment endured,
had been mean.

With no tongue in his head
they had left him for dead.

With a month
on his back,
he did indeed
contemplate.
Only sin
“he was black”
hence forth
this weary state.

They attacked in the night,
hooded and white.

All in all
he was
lucky
to be
breathing at all,
all because
he was plucky,
all because
he stood tall.

A ***** they said
should lower his head.

Were they hooded
for fear?
Were they hooded
in shame?
Most likely,
once covered,
they could hide
of their name.

If things were so right,
why hide out of sight?

Bravery isn't
a word for the ****,
Cowards,
this word comes to mind.
Bravery comes
when there's only one man,
not one
with ten more stood behind.

I will strike in a pack
with someone watching my back.

Their plan
was to ****,
this man
Josiah Jack.
Perhaps they
get a thrill
when someone
cannot fight back.

They get real loud
when they join with the crowd.

Josiah
knew well
that if he
raised a hand
his kin folk
would feel hell
from this
unruly band.

So he did not fight
but gave in to his plight.

They think
they were hidden
beneath that
white hood,
Josiah's hearing
is sound
and his
memory is good.

So when things are forgot,
he will take of his lot.

That's exactly
what happened,
as they lay
in their bed.
The flames hurled
with fury
the sky
filled with red.

This man barbequed them like fish on a rack
and no one put it down to Josiah Jack.
13th July 2015
© Copyright Christopher K Bayliss 2014
 Jul 2015 Thelma Hunt
bones
Flowers
 Jul 2015 Thelma Hunt
bones
She leaves me
with secret flowers

each has
a broken heart

and purple petals
for me to hide

and memories
I can't ....
 Jul 2015 Thelma Hunt
David Hall
if you wake every morning
and do nothing to make your life better
it will not get any better
if you wake every morning
and do something to make your life better
then surely no matter
how bad life might seem right now

it will get better
 Jul 2015 Thelma Hunt
tranquil
.
 Jul 2015 Thelma Hunt
tranquil
.
People who fight
their battles alone
either lose the battle
or lose themselves.
Through out human history
Many lives have been taken from drowning in the depths of the ocean
Giving many people grief and sorrow from loosing loved ones

It's said that the oceans strength comes from the human sprit
Maybe the ocean takes what the ocean needs
Maybe some are meant to be dragged under and continue to live within each wave
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