"abolitionist" poems - Hello Poetry

I cherish my freedom Hard earned though it was Through the abolitionist railway And those who supported the cause An African slave, though free upon birth I was sold as a slave And was now bound to the earth Run for the caves boy Run for the caves Run for your freedom Or die here a slave Run for the caves boy Run for the caves Run for your freedom Or die here a slave Late in the dark I heard of the routes To the new land of freedom I was resolute I would run for my life Leave my family behind I would run for the caves And the new life I'd find Bound to plantation I was just something to trade I would run for my freedom The decision was made From South Carolina I'd head to the coast I'd run for my freedom I'd then be a ghost Follow the signs That was all that I heard They know you are coming Just remember the word Stray from the darkness A dead slave you will be With the last thought you'll have That you'll never die free Boats on the seacoast Up to Salem they sail Look for the sign And remember the trail Make for the caves They'll find you where The water is highest They'll come get you there From there up to Salem And one more step to go Stick with the railroad The way that they know Make way when the moon Is down low in the sky If you're found in the meantime It's a fact you will die Freedom is costly But, it is within reach Make for the caves At the north end of the beach From New England go on to the north or the west Both spell out freedom The end of your quest Don't look over your shoulder just follow the signs They know you are coming stay deep in the pines Remember all those Who have made Freeman Cave Follow their symbols And don't die a slave There are people who will Help you free from the strife But, for now find the caves And son, run for your life.... Run for the caves boy Run for the caves Run for your freedom Or die here a slave Run for the caves boy Run for the caves Run for your freedom Or die here a slave

0

Feb 19, 2014

Feb 19, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC

roger-turner

Freeman Cave

I cherish my freedom Hard earned though it was Through the abolitionist railway And those who supported the cause An African slave, though free upon birth I was sold as a slave And was now bound to the earth Run for the caves boy Run for the caves Run for your freedom Or die here a slave Run for the caves boy Run for the caves Run for your freedom Or die here a slave Late in the dark I heard of the routes To the new land of freedom I was resolute I would run for my life Leave my family behind I would run for the caves And the new life I'd find Bound to plantation I was just something to trade I would run for my freedom The decision was made From South Carolina I'd head to the coast I'd run for my freedom I'd then be a ghost Follow the signs That was all that I heard They know you are coming Just remember the word Stray from the darkness A dead slave you will be With the last thought you'll have That you'll never die free Boats on the seacoast Up to Salem they sail Look for the sign And remember the trail Make for the caves They'll find you where The water is highest They'll come get you there From there up to Salem And one more step to go Stick with the railroad The way that they know Make way when the moon Is down low in the sky If you're found in the meantime It's a fact you will die Freedom is costly But, it is within reach Make for the caves At the north end of the beach From New England go on to the north or the west Both spell out freedom The end of your quest Don't look over your shoulder just follow the signs They know you are coming stay deep in the pines Remember all those Who have made Freeman Cave Follow their symbols And don't die a slave There are people who will Help you free from the strife But, for now find the caves And son, run for your life.... Run for the caves boy Run for the caves Run for your freedom Or die here a slave Run for the caves boy Run for the caves Run for your freedom Or die here a slave

84

(10/25/12) The black days of history that many do not know And many refuse to accept - of how the black man Helped AMERICA to be the greatest country yet. They was brought here as slaves because the Color of their skin ! But their minds was never searched to see What lied within. Every ethnic group that came to the states Had many a hardship that they had to face. Every race that came was given a derogatory name Which they had to accept and had felt the shame. But they all contributed to this great nation of ours Which is now known as the greatest power. These are just a few facts of what the blacks Had given to this nation, and many of these Became part of our salvation. FACTS: )1) john love- invented the pencil sharpener in 1897 2) Joseph lee -invented a bread making machine that mixed The ingredients and kneaded the dough in 1895 3) Thomas l Jennings was the first African American to receive A patent in 1821 which was for a dry cleaning process. He used the money earned from his patent to purchase Relatives out of slavery and support abolitionist causes. 4) madam c.j. walker (1867-1919) daughter of a former slave Who suffered hair loss in her twenties and created hair care Products , and allowed her to open a factory and school to Train hundreds of black women to be economically self sufficient And become one of the first female millionaires in U.S. history. There is still something that burns in my heart And when I think of it -it tears me apart Of all the people in this great nation That have been put to the ground There lies one race that still lives Way below the poverty line and The government says there doing fine. The “AMERICAN INDIAN” who had Most all treaties broken and of this the Government hasn’t spoken. Many families of five and more Living in a shack without a door Just a blanket to stop the wind To me this is a crying sin. The Indian charities having to buy fifty five gallon drums for water And many of them on “back order”. I know that I started writing this poem for the blacks But on the Indian nations - I can’t turn my back. We have to help one another, for we’re all Sister and brother. GOD BLESS US ALL © L . RAMS

0

Oct 25, 2012

Oct 25, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC

louis-rams

black days of history

(10/25/12) The black days of history that many do not know And many refuse to accept - of how the black man Helped AMERICA to be the greatest country yet. They was brought here as slaves because the Color of their skin ! But their minds was never searched to see What lied within. Every ethnic group that came to the states Had many a hardship that they had to face. Every race that came was given a derogatory name Which they had to accept and had felt the shame. But they all contributed to this great nation of ours Which is now known as the greatest power. These are just a few facts of what the blacks Had given to this nation, and many of these Became part of our salvation. FACTS: )1) john love- invented the pencil sharpener in 1897 2) Joseph lee -invented a bread making machine that mixed The ingredients and kneaded the dough in 1895 3) Thomas l Jennings was the first African American to receive A patent in 1821 which was for a dry cleaning process. He used the money earned from his patent to purchase Relatives out of slavery and support abolitionist causes. 4) madam c.j. walker (1867-1919) daughter of a former slave Who suffered hair loss in her twenties and created hair care Products , and allowed her to open a factory and school to Train hundreds of black women to be economically self sufficient And become one of the first female millionaires in U.S. history. There is still something that burns in my heart And when I think of it -it tears me apart Of all the people in this great nation That have been put to the ground There lies one race that still lives Way below the poverty line and The government says there doing fine. The “AMERICAN INDIAN” who had Most all treaties broken and of this the Government hasn’t spoken. Many families of five and more Living in a shack without a door Just a blanket to stop the wind To me this is a crying sin. The Indian charities having to buy fifty five gallon drums for water And many of them on “back order”. I know that I started writing this poem for the blacks But on the Indian nations - I can’t turn my back. We have to help one another, for we’re all Sister and brother. GOD BLESS US ALL © L . RAMS

52

sinner to sanctification reason over revulsion reaction begets agitation converting intransigence drowning in sin flailing for a life raft Music: Pete Seeger John Brown's Body jbm Oakland 010913

0

Jun 18, 2013

Jun 18, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC

james-bradley-mccallum

Abolitionist

sinner to sanctification reason over revulsion reaction begets agitation converting intransigence drowning in sin flailing for a life raft Music: Pete Seeger John Brown's Body jbm Oakland 010913

11

Have you ever thought about your past lives? No? Well, do it now. ... ... ... So who were you? Were you a brave soldier in Washington's army? Were you a conniving lawyer twisted in a complicated trial? Were you a stay-at-home mother in a house full of young children? Some say that it's impossible to know who you were... Others do not believe in reincarnation at all. Do you? I do. Here's the thing: Either my mind is far more imaginative than I thought or the images in my head are glimpses of who I was. From what I've seen (and felt), I was many things... An abolitionist, fighting against slavery. A women's rights activist, trying to gain equal rights for all sexes. A teenage Beatlemaniac, habitually listening to the Beatles's albums. A peace activist, using flowers to end the war in Vietnam. How odd. All of these lives make up who I am today... A lover of peace, a strong believer in equality, a melomaniac. It's strange, how much influence the past has over a person.

0

Feb 4, 2014

Feb 4, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC

l-4

Living in the past

Have you ever thought about your past lives? No? Well, do it now. ... ... ... So who were you? Were you a brave soldier in Washington's army? Were you a conniving lawyer twisted in a complicated trial? Were you a stay-at-home mother in a house full of young children? Some say that it's impossible to know who you were... Others do not believe in reincarnation at all. Do you? I do. Here's the thing: Either my mind is far more imaginative than I thought or the images in my head are glimpses of who I was. From what I've seen (and felt), I was many things... An abolitionist, fighting against slavery. A women's rights activist, trying to gain equal rights for all sexes. A teenage Beatlemaniac, habitually listening to the Beatles's albums. A peace activist, using flowers to end the war in Vietnam. How odd. All of these lives make up who I am today... A lover of peace, a strong believer in equality, a melomaniac. It's strange, how much influence the past has over a person.

26

Oh' apple of the eye Forgetful smelling rye You breath is sweet as butter An' your soul Only knows how to cry I've loved you Before you were born And every letter I've writ you I've cried over And torn Here I lay and stay Thinking there's no other way I see my friends And they say Love is nothing but something To obey The poet in his masquerade Holds the fiddle as he plays Songs of days thrown away For men of many That have no penny to pay Her smile brought wars Her scent brought passion And the way she grinned In that forgotten summer of sin Made any man that had died Wished to be brought back again Though I know life Is only a forgetful memory Does not mean That every second I spend with thee Is nothing less but heavenly See the table on top of the hill And the baby that spills With her eyes that hover still In a rotating transition That holds no rule too applicable What cannot be seen Is never too obscene She breathes the way puppets do Obsessed with only political coup's Dance with that two step trance She's the one with the lemon pants A wriggle and a right a row The prisoner's have the ship in tow Now, I know that I said There was no reason to get upset But, here I see you Getting red over a slip of the pen Forgiving fade away Absolutist abolitionist Too scared to take it, Yet, too lonely to leave it She winked at me With a teary eye And a whisper to be Close are your fluttering lashes Watch As the dew drop lady passes Every distance Is not near Keep your eyes open For soon Your dreams will appear A present of misfortune Each word a perfect cut The grass was as soft silk An end with no period penned.

0

Nov 16, 2013

Nov 16, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC

ashby-brown

Forgetting Memories

Oh' apple of the eye Forgetful smelling rye You breath is sweet as butter An' your soul Only knows how to cry I've loved you Before you were born And every letter I've writ you I've cried over And torn Here I lay and stay Thinking there's no other way I see my friends And they say Love is nothing but something To obey The poet in his masquerade Holds the fiddle as he plays Songs of days thrown away For men of many That have no penny to pay Her smile brought wars Her scent brought passion And the way she grinned In that forgotten summer of sin Made any man that had died Wished to be brought back again Though I know life Is only a forgetful memory Does not mean That every second I spend with thee Is nothing less but heavenly See the table on top of the hill And the baby that spills With her eyes that hover still In a rotating transition That holds no rule too applicable What cannot be seen Is never too obscene She breathes the way puppets do Obsessed with only political coup's Dance with that two step trance She's the one with the lemon pants A wriggle and a right a row The prisoner's have the ship in tow Now, I know that I said There was no reason to get upset But, here I see you Getting red over a slip of the pen Forgiving fade away Absolutist abolitionist Too scared to take it, Yet, too lonely to leave it She winked at me With a teary eye And a whisper to be Close are your fluttering lashes Watch As the dew drop lady passes Every distance Is not near Keep your eyes open For soon Your dreams will appear A present of misfortune Each word a perfect cut The grass was as soft silk An end with no period penned.

68

The skilled user of words, the wizard conjurer that provoke your thoughts. I ought to be sentenced to death. For an enlightened mind such as mine for the crime of influencing young minds You see the Government hate visionaries like me, so they call the disciplinary, to disrupt revolutionaries, COINTELPRO, look them up if you don’t know, for all you conspiracy theorist, I am the head of realist **** shot calling You might as well call me Shon the abolitionist. When it comes to such a wicked being such as me, they call to question my thought for knowledge and I tell them As the practitioner of hard knocks, my quest for power is almost pestilent; people say knowledge is power But what they don’t tell you, is power comes from applying the knowledge To acknowledge the most dangerous man in the room isn’t the man with the gun nor the thirst for power But the man in the shrouded darkness waiting to pounce, call me Rockefeller and Rothschild. I am almost out of time but please forgive me, my mind sits in an higher dimension My mentality is overpriced that’s why the naïve mind is as common as head lice As I am the sole provider to the zeitgeist.

0

Jun 29, 2019

Jun 29, 2019 at 2:28 PM UTC

HAUERU_H

The Word Smith

The skilled user of words, the wizard conjurer that provoke your thoughts. I ought to be sentenced to death. For an enlightened mind such as mine for the crime of influencing young minds You see the Government hate visionaries like me, so they call the disciplinary, to disrupt revolutionaries, COINTELPRO, look them up if you don’t know, for all you conspiracy theorist, I am the head of realist **** shot calling You might as well call me Shon the abolitionist. When it comes to such a wicked being such as me, they call to question my thought for knowledge and I tell them As the practitioner of hard knocks, my quest for power is almost pestilent; people say knowledge is power But what they don’t tell you, is power comes from applying the knowledge To acknowledge the most dangerous man in the room isn’t the man with the gun nor the thirst for power But the man in the shrouded darkness waiting to pounce, call me Rockefeller and Rothschild. I am almost out of time but please forgive me, my mind sits in an higher dimension My mentality is overpriced that’s why the naïve mind is as common as head lice As I am the sole provider to the zeitgeist.

13

I am an anarchist a feminist an abolitionist I am out spoken I am afrade I stew in the messes that I have made I am cynical I am cautions I am a pessimist I am nauseous I am unorganized I am unwilling and these clothes are all ill fitting I am crude, rude, lude and am in the most terrible mood I am depressed I am a mess I dont think I could hate my self less I am free I am caged I present my self on stage I care I am aware I lack lengths of hair I sing and I shout but in nothing particular about I write poems on occasion but never anything to amazin'

0

Feb 27, 2014

Feb 27, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC

BlitzT

I Am

I am an anarchist a feminist an abolitionist I am out spoken I am afrade I stew in the messes that I have made I am cynical I am cautions I am a pessimist I am nauseous I am unorganized I am unwilling and these clothes are all ill fitting I am crude, rude, lude and am in the most terrible mood I am depressed I am a mess I dont think I could hate my self less I am free I am caged I present my self on stage I care I am aware I lack lengths of hair I sing and I shout but in nothing particular about I write poems on occasion but never anything to amazin'

29

Oceanic Liquidity Melodies of Love Live Life How do I end up so lucky/unlucky to have/not have you?? Completion of thoughts, eyes lustful filled with the eternity that makes my heart MELT... Wet with the history on a scroll that prescribes our love in large doses... I'm hooked off your endorphins and prescriptions of forever and always, mentally I'm hooked... You're the perfect high, inhaled long ago and trailing this whole time like smoke leaves a gun, no Captain Hook... Let's fly away from this mindless place of crannies and nooks... And fill our library of love with memories and watery brooks... Dripping, with thoughts of what could be, coital...wait look.. My mind drains in the faucet yet stays clogged with what can be and could be seen...graphically with leaves of autumn satires in everlasting love and wintery passionate wet sheets... Though the fire builds and smoldered with disconnection and non-affection I'm still willing and able to love and hopefully live with happiness filled with lilies and sunflowers, the soil we found is so meek... Loving your grips, my throat suicidally bleeding but healing, as the sun heals the wombs that could be... I love to love your ambiance...your smile...dripping with the factual thought of ravaging you on a white pedestal of the piano keys... Musically, sexually....horizons that I've never seen, only to wake up inside your moist starry glow of dandelions and tulips, my stem continually grows so perfectly... Can I *** beyond this life into the next? Seeking the birth of wisdom most abolitionist can't claim a defect..? Oh boy, I swim like Japanese coy, tattooed on the events and situations that make people play like a toy....

0

Oct 20, 2015

Oct 20, 2015 at 2:59 AM UTC

oceanic-liquidity

Melodies of love live life

Oceanic Liquidity Melodies of Love Live Life How do I end up so lucky/unlucky to have/not have you?? Completion of thoughts, eyes lustful filled with the eternity that makes my heart MELT... Wet with the history on a scroll that prescribes our love in large doses... I'm hooked off your endorphins and prescriptions of forever and always, mentally I'm hooked... You're the perfect high, inhaled long ago and trailing this whole time like smoke leaves a gun, no Captain Hook... Let's fly away from this mindless place of crannies and nooks... And fill our library of love with memories and watery brooks... Dripping, with thoughts of what could be, coital...wait look.. My mind drains in the faucet yet stays clogged with what can be and could be seen...graphically with leaves of autumn satires in everlasting love and wintery passionate wet sheets... Though the fire builds and smoldered with disconnection and non-affection I'm still willing and able to love and hopefully live with happiness filled with lilies and sunflowers, the soil we found is so meek... Loving your grips, my throat suicidally bleeding but healing, as the sun heals the wombs that could be... I love to love your ambiance...your smile...dripping with the factual thought of ravaging you on a white pedestal of the piano keys... Musically, sexually....horizons that I've never seen, only to wake up inside your moist starry glow of dandelions and tulips, my stem continually grows so perfectly... Can I *** beyond this life into the next? Seeking the birth of wisdom most abolitionist can't claim a defect..? Oh boy, I swim like Japanese coy, tattooed on the events and situations that make people play like a toy....

17

What if my lover was an abolitionist? How would our child differ? Would my nights be less risky targeted by dangerous urges? My revolutions of mind would not be so lonely They could come out at our dinner dates They could hang around with my family at the play ground Protect our fatherhood

0

Aug 20, 2016

Aug 20, 2016 at 10:00 PM UTC

elan-bonde-gregory

what if?

What if my lover was an abolitionist? How would our child differ? Would my nights be less risky targeted by dangerous urges? My revolutions of mind would not be so lonely They could come out at our dinner dates They could hang around with my family at the play ground Protect our fatherhood

7