"emmitt" poems - Hello Poetry

In January 2015, my country said Happy New Year in the form of an Oklahoma cop that stopped my brother and I for driving while black This is an open letter to him I never thought I would say this to a real cop, but **** the police **** what you say, you did not pull us over because we were following to close You pulled over a family of black men that have proudly served this country founded on the belief that I can die because 1/3 of my life doesn’t matter But I gave you the benefit of the doubt and calmly placed my trembling hands on my thighs on the side of I-40 waiting for you to waste my time You immediately asked my brother to step out of the car so you could explain why you stopped us I immediately had flashbacks of hands up don’t shoot and i can’t breathe I had open-eyed nightmares of skittles and black sweatshirts I had an image in my mind of Emmitt Till’s open casket, and I saw my brother’s face I saw my brothers blood caked under your fingernails as you walked away Because you always seem to get away When I think of Trayvon Martin, Micheal Brown, Rodney King, Emmitt Till, and all the fallen members of my race They are each reminders that I am never too far away from being one of them too I am never too far from being made an example However, you couldn’t find a reason to justify putting us in jail cells that are marked for colored only You seemed dissatisfied that you found two black males that oddly enough, didn’t fit the description You so badly wanted to put us back in our place when we never fell out of line, none of us has ever fallen out of line You may one day get this message and think there goes another angry ***** But mr simpleton let me explain Being angry and being hurt have the exact same feeling Make the exact same sound And cry the exact same tears So it's easy to see how you could get confused Somehow you see my race as a threat to this image of a life you already live White privilege is the health insurance plan that gave you coverage specifically because you have a preexisting condition My people will continue to make strides in this most free of nations Yet to you we will always be inferior And for that i pity you You see I could go on about how you were wrong About how you are just another terrorist wearing the uniform of someone who is supposed to protect Americans just like me But you will never be worth my time

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May 9, 2015

May 9, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC

itsdbigs

Driving While Black

In January 2015, my country said Happy New Year in the form of an Oklahoma cop that stopped my brother and I for driving while black This is an open letter to him I never thought I would say this to a real cop, but **** the police **** what you say, you did not pull us over because we were following to close You pulled over a family of black men that have proudly served this country founded on the belief that I can die because 1/3 of my life doesn’t matter But I gave you the benefit of the doubt and calmly placed my trembling hands on my thighs on the side of I-40 waiting for you to waste my time You immediately asked my brother to step out of the car so you could explain why you stopped us I immediately had flashbacks of hands up don’t shoot and i can’t breathe I had open-eyed nightmares of skittles and black sweatshirts I had an image in my mind of Emmitt Till’s open casket, and I saw my brother’s face I saw my brothers blood caked under your fingernails as you walked away Because you always seem to get away When I think of Trayvon Martin, Micheal Brown, Rodney King, Emmitt Till, and all the fallen members of my race They are each reminders that I am never too far away from being one of them too I am never too far from being made an example However, you couldn’t find a reason to justify putting us in jail cells that are marked for colored only You seemed dissatisfied that you found two black males that oddly enough, didn’t fit the description You so badly wanted to put us back in our place when we never fell out of line, none of us has ever fallen out of line You may one day get this message and think there goes another angry ***** But mr simpleton let me explain Being angry and being hurt have the exact same feeling Make the exact same sound And cry the exact same tears So it's easy to see how you could get confused Somehow you see my race as a threat to this image of a life you already live White privilege is the health insurance plan that gave you coverage specifically because you have a preexisting condition My people will continue to make strides in this most free of nations Yet to you we will always be inferior And for that i pity you You see I could go on about how you were wrong About how you are just another terrorist wearing the uniform of someone who is supposed to protect Americans just like me But you will never be worth my time

36

By: Cedric McClester Paranoia tends to grow Cuz people fear what They don’t know Still they refuse to learn And so We still have quite A ways to go Conveniently we forget Our ugly history And yet We fail to feel A sense of debt And rarely show Any regret I remember Lynchings still And truthfully I always will Think about Poor Emmitt Till By now I think You know the drill America the beautiful Hasn’t always been Benevolent when it comes To men of colored skin But this is now And that was then So I guess We just pretend Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016, All rights reserved.

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Feb 10, 2016

Feb 10, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC

cedric-mcclester

PEOPLE FEAR WHAT THEY DON'T KNOW

By: Cedric McClester Paranoia tends to grow Cuz people fear what They don’t know Still they refuse to learn And so We still have quite A ways to go Conveniently we forget Our ugly history And yet We fail to feel A sense of debt And rarely show Any regret I remember Lynchings still And truthfully I always will Think about Poor Emmitt Till By now I think You know the drill America the beautiful Hasn’t always been Benevolent when it comes To men of colored skin But this is now And that was then So I guess We just pretend Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016, All rights reserved.

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He was not from these parts; a big city teen. At Five – Six not imposing, he was barely fourteen. A big city teen with a bit of a mouth, which was bad for a black man in the heart of the South. A warm summer day in an old country store, The white girl was a looker; that much was sure. Emmitt Till whistled for he was impressed With how good that girl looked in that tight fitting dress. That girl had a husband, a big burly man. He was a bad man to cross for he rode with the **** He and his cousin sought out Emmitt Till. If a man can die slowly they both swore this one will. The two held Emmitt captive in an old wooden barn. They strung him up with barbed wire and broke both of his arms. They gouged out one eye for the pleasure of pain Then they dragged out to the river his mortal remains. His poor mother wept when she saw what they’d done; How they’d tortured and murdered her beloved son. She mourned, open casket, and word soon got out How Black men were killed in the Heart of the South. The law found Till’s killers and brought them to court. But the jury was friendly (or else they were bought). The two killers went free, smiling, down the court steps. But their sins lit a fire folks here won’t forget. After Till’s death Civil Rights was the cause There were marches and protests; the movement changed laws The Klan’s hold would be broken; of that do not doubt, And, slowly, things changed in the heart of the South.

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Jan 27, 2017

Jan 27, 2017 at 10:22 PM UTC

john-f-mccullagh

In the Heart of the South

He was not from these parts; a big city teen. At Five – Six not imposing, he was barely fourteen. A big city teen with a bit of a mouth, which was bad for a black man in the heart of the South. A warm summer day in an old country store, The white girl was a looker; that much was sure. Emmitt Till whistled for he was impressed With how good that girl looked in that tight fitting dress. That girl had a husband, a big burly man. He was a bad man to cross for he rode with the **** He and his cousin sought out Emmitt Till. If a man can die slowly they both swore this one will. The two held Emmitt captive in an old wooden barn. They strung him up with barbed wire and broke both of his arms. They gouged out one eye for the pleasure of pain Then they dragged out to the river his mortal remains. His poor mother wept when she saw what they’d done; How they’d tortured and murdered her beloved son. She mourned, open casket, and word soon got out How Black men were killed in the Heart of the South. The law found Till’s killers and brought them to court. But the jury was friendly (or else they were bought). The two killers went free, smiling, down the court steps. But their sins lit a fire folks here won’t forget. After Till’s death Civil Rights was the cause There were marches and protests; the movement changed laws The Klan’s hold would be broken; of that do not doubt, And, slowly, things changed in the heart of the South.

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