"douglass" poems
My Country Tis of Thee,
Sweet land of liberty-
Or so we sing.
Land where my fathers died-
But my forefathers died in a battle
Trying to keep their slaves;
My fathers killed your fathers
For trying to run away;
My fathers **** your fathers
Cause it's late at night, and
He's reaching for his gun-no, wait,
His ID?
Land of the pilgrim's pride-
But so often we leave out of history
How if it weren't for a Native American,
The pilgrims would've died.
From every mountainside-
Like Stone Mountain in Georgia,
Where Rebel Generals are memorialized,
Where the **** was revived-
God, help me, I can't hear freedom's ring;
I can only hear white-washed history.
From every mountainside-
But these days, the mountain is in my chest,
And liberty's ring sounds a lot different,
And a lot of folks don't like it.
Let freedom ring-
And I want to fight for freedom for all-
#BlackLivesMatter-
I want to help-
HANDS UP, DON'T SHOOT!
But-
I
Can't
Breathe.
Let freedom ring!-
But peaceful protests turn into
Bloodbaths as those who have sworn
To serve and protect are sniped down.
Let freedom ring!-
I try to educate myself
On the side of history not taught-
I've always felt that Nat Turner was the bad guy,
But these days I'm questioning it.
I read "The Meaning of Fourth of July for the *****
by Frederick Douglass
And I read "Bury Me in a Free Land"
by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
and I read "Sympathy"
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
and I read "Letters from Birmingham Jail",
"The Mountaintop Speech", and
"I Have a Dream"
by Dr. King.
When I was younger,
I'd research Dr. King & his colleagues
For fun.
I'd wonder, "If I lived in the Civil Rights era,
What would I have done?"
But when I turned seventeen,
I realized, "I live in a Civil Rights era;
What am I going to do?
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC
Tell me why it is we don’t lift our voices these days
And cry over what is happening. Have you noticed
The plans are made for Iraq and the ice cap is melting?
I say to myself: “Go on, cry. What’s the sense
Of being an adult and having no voice? Cry out!
See who will answer! This is Call and Answer!”
We will have to call especially loud to reach
Our angels, who are hard of hearing; they are hiding
In the jugs of silence filled during our wars.
Have we agreed to so many wars that we can’t
Escape from silence? If we don’t lift our voices, we allow
Others (who are ourselves) to rob the house.
How come we’ve listened to the great criers—Neruda,
Akhmatova, Thoreau, Frederick Douglass—and now
We’re silent as sparrows in the little bushes?
Some masters say our life lasts only seven days.
Where are we in the week? Is it Thursday yet?
Hurry, cry now! Soon Sunday night will come.
3.3k
The apartment hasn’t been cleaned for so long and has housed a depressive in it for the same length of time so that there is a glaze of slime-dirt on the floor, made of dried coffee, hot chocolate, maybe some **** or some spillage from a tube of steroid cream to treat an inflammation that never really goes. The rate of ooze changes?. Clean textiles are piled up on the floor, never having been folded, and mix here and there with ***** practical fatpants that make me look like a geologist and white-white cotton blankets that can be washed on HOT with lots of bleach that I purloined from some mentalhealthfacility. The inbox is full of—is bristling with—remonstrances from Programs for the Nondoer—you haven’t filed, haven’t turnstiled, haven’t had your hologram chip assessed by central CENTRAL intelligence, what is wrong with you. Upon stepping outside there is a beat during which I think maybe somewonder might swirl and buoy but no, just wethumid and ***** sidewalks cruddy and Haitians and quasi-Haitians muttering “taxitaxitaxi” in front of their Gypsy conveyances with their dubious certifications. I should go for a ride in one, a dubious passenger for a dubious palanquin. I tried the library but it was too hot and decrepit and too filled with Books For African-Americans, which always ****** me off; are only African-Americans going to read Wright or Douglass or Brooks? Everyone is overrated, anyway, movies and theater and the moribund beat of commerce, and as the dangerous autos pass, sometimes not running you over, you can see morechange in the pockets of the shareholders of BeePee and Iacocca Coach-Wirx. Any friendliness exhibited seems to contain an underovertone of You’re Not Included Whiteboy White ****** Ghost ***** all archaic names I’ve been almost astounded to be called usually while balancing on tiptoe on some lurching, roaring dieselbus, grinding past off-off-off brand groceries that do a dubious business. While making my police report I wink at a sevenyearold boy and I get a lustrous wink back butalas this is not enough to beat back those slurrycolored brainfazes.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
its tha return of tha gangsta thanks to ya
too many blacks out here livin' they life in fear
families seeing tears problems tier
blurry visions make it hard to see clear my dear
cant get through the atmosphere
feel me it's the return of the gangsta I'd like to thank ya
Malcolm for giving me the principles and reaching a few people's
opening minds to grinds and you'll find
me chilling on the corner puffing marijuana yep I'm a gonna
in society outlaw outcast put my thoughts on blast
techs is humming cuz I smell war coming armies drumming
po folks crying innocent victims dying
for no apparent reasons caught in daily treasons which gives me a reasons to put an end to Americas sin but too many folks stuck in
a fantAsy called reality in actuality
they plotting our burials G
troops overseas findings empty caves so the government can make saves war profiteers racketeering gangsters hustlers
exposing lies don't be a busta like a Douglass no diamonds in my cutlass couldn't move so I had cut less people out of my circle I'm nerdy as urkel yea my intellect carefully selects
what's real from reality I envision myself as well as my enemies in a fatality so battling me I was made for war built off the backs of my ancestors sore yea white house was built by the slaves for white supremacy kind of irony they sayin' my folks was lazy?
worked up from Sun up to Sun down
I can't believe my folks walking with they heads towards the grounds
how bout we get mad and let off gun sounds pound for pound
you know they can't hang with us
that's why they had to make laws against us
scared of rise and corruptions ain't a surprise through the eyes
of real people who realize pain ain't a substitution for happiness bliss
I guess I was sunkissed
by wisdom mouth open hail Mary entered me and told me
we all family eyes lit no **** no fit nothing
but a glowing brain exemption of fame down goes my name
in the book of life made wisdom my wife
she took my arm she's my charm
as I glance at the souls gunned down on plantations farms gangsta....
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 2:49 PM UTC
The American Vision of Abraham Lincoln
AT THIS MOMENT
At this moment
Resting in the comfort of the statue
Of the 16th president of the United States
Missing
An equally impressive representation
Of his friend and advisor
Frederick Douglass
We come
On this day
Recalling the difficult and divisive war
We are compelled
With a prayer in the name
Of those captured and enslaved
Who with heart and mind
Cleared the wilderness
Raised crops
Brought forth families
Submitted their souls
Before a merciful and great God
To acknowledge that The Civil War
Was fought not to free the enslaved
For they knew they were free
But to free the nation
From a terrible cancer eating at our hearts
At this moment
In which we are embarrassed
By the Governor of our fifth largest state
Who appoints a man to the United States Senate
To which both he and his minion agree:
The Letter of the Law
Is more important than
The Spirit of the Law
Now
When we are dismayed that the accidental
Governor of the Empire State can find
Just one more reason to rain pain
And rejection on a family that has offered only
Grace and graciousness
After two hundred years
When we rejoice that another son
Of the Midwest has offered himself
His wife and his two precious daughters
To show us a better way
We gather
In recognition and understanding
That today is always and forever today
Allowing us to offer this plea
For light
And truth
And Goodness
Forgiving as we are forgiven
Being neither tempted nor intolerant of those who are
We come
At this moment
To renew and refurbish
The American vision
Of Abraham Lincoln
©Nikki Giovanni 2009
12 February 2009
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 1:10 PM UTC
the elephant sits quietly
in the corner,
reading Holmes
as we tiptoe through the to,
too many words,that slipped
from tequila lips
and open-gated brains.
the leopard,
is in the bathroom
tinting his fur
to an even shade of black
and the owl
is busy outside
trying to get
the wisdom of the ages
safely back.... inside.
monkey saw,
monkey did,
monkey lies,
monkey defies,
monkey now,
in the barrel
with a nailed-down lid.
and the whale sings,
a mournful song.
the dolphins,
once again,
thank us for the fish
and then move on.
but still,
the elephant sits
and reads on...
as we fervently wish
the dormouse to appear
and slap the mopey begger
on his ample rear.
*with nods of thanks to:
folklore, CS Lewis, Dr Suess
and Douglass Adams
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
Mr Douglass is doing well
doing big things
in America today,
big things,
being noticed,
yes he is.
Ben took me with him
& I met some too,
Black folks
that is,
great people,
great people,
and Omarosa
and Paul
lovely folks,
lovely,
but the Press
is unfair,
unfair.
and African-Americans
love this country
and did big things,
& I like them,
I really do.
All this shallow
near incoherent
rambling
from a man
who questioned
the very legitimacy
of America's first
African-American
President,
questioned it day
after day
for two
toxic
& racist
& vicious
years.
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 10:57 PM UTC
[a tired greeting]
-Hello, Mr. Douglass?
[a concerned response]
-Mr. Douglass, I…
[a question on well-being]
-Well, yes… yes Mr. Douglass that’s…that’s actually why I’m calling.
[an impatient plea]
-Mr. Douglass, please understand, there is absolutely no easy way for me to say…
[…]
-We’ve done everything we could do, Mr. Douglass, everything. Some things… some things just aren’t meant to be.
[a painful cry]
[a curse to God]
[a question to reality]
-Mr. Douglass, at the rate it spread… it was just too much. Mr. Douglass, frankly I am surprised she lasted as long as she did, but she was exactly what you said, a fighter until the end…
[a sob]
-Mr. Douglass, I…
[a wish to give up]
-Please don’t say that Mr. Douglass…
[a lost value in life]
-I know, I know… Mr. Douglass, you must realize this isn’t any easier for me either.
[how to rediscover that value]
-I’ll tell you what you have to live for Mr. Douglass. You have a son and daughter. Do you think orphaning your children is what she’d want? If you can’t do it for them, do it for her.
[love’s anger]
[a plea to end]
-…and what Mr. Douglass? Are you going to so quickly deliver yourself to the very thing she suffered for so long to avoid? You would become a monument of contempt for her struggle.
[life versus death]
-And she wanted to live Mr. Douglass… I'm sure she'd wish the same for you.
[hurried walking]
[incoherent mutterings]
[glass breaking]
-Please Mr. Douglass, please, calm down. It would be best if your children didn’t hear…
[fate’s morality]
-I know it is not fair Mr. Douglass. If there’s anything I’ve learned in my forty-six years at this institution it’s life is anything but fair. We were born by the grace of God. Unfortunately, he is an Indian giver…
[the impossibility to endure]
-It is times like this where all we can do is weep.
[the click of the chamber]
-No Mr. Douglass! Don’t do it!
[a quiet sob]
[teeth on metal]
-Wait Mr. Douglass, please! Her last request! At least let me fulfill her last request!
[jarring silence]
-She… she wanted you to hear her last words…
[falling tears]
-Mr. Douglass… she said,
*please… please tell him… no matter what happens… no matter… I will
always be there for him…*
[gentle crying]
[…]
-Mr. Douglass? Mr. Douglass, are you there?
[…]
-Mr. Douglass!?!
[a smile]
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 11:25 PM UTC
February 14th 2025,
The yearly anniversary of he who failed to fall,
To the crushing hand of prosecution.
The day, a symbol of love,
Congratulations Mr. Douglass,
That's what we got.
Happy birthday to a spirit of liberty,
And cheers to equal freedoms.
Feb 14, 2025
Feb 14, 2025 at 10:49 AM UTC
Desperation.
Inspiration, Determination.
What it takes to overcome
To do more than what your fathers done.
But always remember that when you succeed,
You left a mother in need
A brother to feed, a child that he didn’t plan for
Some firsts, seconds, and thirds that struggled with you
You can’t help them all
Most will see it as luck
Think you don’t give a ****
Because the media twists tales
And covers the truth up
Shows all the love at the top
How it all seems so ideal, like it just came out of nothing
Because it’s hard to dethrone a king once you’ve been conditioned to love him
Tell them while you were rising
You never forgot but you couldn’t stop fighting
Ask them, did Frederick Douglass’s brother ever see freedom?
Did he hate him for circumstances or did he even get to see him?
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 3:59 PM UTC