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Damaré M Dec 2013
Sistah soul
Foundation like my soles
Warmth like the sol
Strings attached like you sew
Invest your feelings so you stow

My sol shines from you
My soul is proud of you
The arch of my feet rely on you

You keep me from shivering
You keep my feelings rendering
And my feet from blistering

My soul
Sol
And soles

Solely my soul sistah, lover, friend, and homie

Just you and I knitted together
Hope you and I stay crocheted forever
Tethered tightly
And sewed by our souls staggeringly

You are my Soul Sistah
Dearest
Cheerful
Merest
Miracle
Spiritual

I love my soul
I love you so
Stephan Cotton May 2017
Another shift, another day, Another buck to spend or save
A million riders, maybe more, delivered to their office door
Or maybe warehouse maybe store.
Or church or shul or city school, right on time as a rule.

Clickety, clackety, clickety, clee,
I am New York, the City’s me
Come let me ride you on my knee
From Coney Isle to Pelham Bay
From Bronx to Queens eight times a day.

Ride my trains, New Yorkers do
And you’ll learn a thing or two
About the City up above, the one some hate, the one some love.
On the street they work like elves
Down below they’re just themselves.

Through summer’s heat they still submerge,
Tempers held (though always on the verge),
They push, they shove – just like above –
The crowds will jostle, then finally merge.

Downtown to work and then back to sleep
They travel just like farm-herded sheep.
In through this gate and out the other,
Give up a seat to a child and mother,
Just don’t sit too close to that unruly creep!

With these crowds huddled near
Just ride my trains with open ear,
There’s lots of tales for you to hear.


Dis stop is 86th Street, change for da numbah 4 and 5 trains.  Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.   77th Street is next.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     I’m Doctor Z, Doctor Z are me
     I’ll fix your face or the visit’s free.
     Plastic surgery, nips and tucks
     You’ll be looking like a million bucks.

     Looka those pitchas, ain’t they hot?
     You’ll look good, too, like as not!
     Just call my numbah, free of toll
     Why should you look like an ugly troll?

     You’ll be lookin good like a rapster
     Folks start stealing your tunes on Napster
     Guys’ll love ya, dig your face
     Why keep lookin like sucha disgrace?

     Call me up, you’re glad you did
     Ugly skin you’ll soon be rid.
     Amex, Visa, Mastercard,
     Payment plans that ain’t so hard.

     So don’t forget, pick up that phone
     Soon’s you get yourself back home.
     I’ll have you looking good, one, two three
     Or else my name ain’t Doctor Z.


Dis stop is 77th Street, 68th Street Huntah College is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     It was a limo, now it’s the train;
     Tomorrow’s sunshine, but now it’s rain.
     The market’s mine, for taking and giving
     It’s the way I earn my living.

     Today’s losses, last week’s gain.
     A day of pleasure, months of pain.
     We sold the puts and bought the calls;
     We loaded up on each and all.

     I’ve seen it all, from Fear to Greed,
     Good motivators, they are, both.
     The fundamentals I try to heed
     Run your gains and avoid big loss.

     Rates are down, I bought the banks
     For easy credit, they should give thanks.
     Goldman, Citi, even Chase
     Why are they still in their malaise?

     “The techs are drek,” I heard him say
     But bought more of them, anyway.
     I rode the bull, I’ll tame the bear
     I’ll scream and curse and pull my hair.

     So why continue though I’m such a ****?
     I’ll cut my loss if I find honest work.



Dis is 68th Street Huntah College, 59th Street is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     He rides the train from near to far,
     In and out of every car.
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”
     Some folks buy them, most do not,
     Are they stolen, are they hot?
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”

     Who would by them, even a buck?
     What’re the odds they’re dead as a duck?
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”
     Why not the Lotto, try your luck,
     Or are you gonna be this guy’s schmuck?
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”


Dis is 59th Street, change for de 4 and 5 Express and for de N and de R, use yer Metrocard at sixty toid street for da F train.  51st Street is next. Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     “Dat guy kips ****** wit me, Wass he
     tink, I got time for dat ****?  Man, I
     got my wuk to do, I ain gona put
     up with him
     no more.”

          “I don’t know what to tell this dude. Like,
          I really dig him but
          ***?  No way.  And
          He’s getting all too smoochie face.”

     “Right on, bro, slap dat fool up
     side his head, he leave you lone.”

          “Whoa, send him my way.  When’s the last
          time I got laid?  I’m way ready.”

          “Oh, Suzie,..”


Dis is fifty foist Street, 42nd Street Grand Central is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin doors.



     Abogados es su amigos, do you believe the sign?
     Are they really a friend of mine?
     Find your lawyer on the train
     He’ll sue if the docs ***** up your brain.

     Pick a lawyer from this ad
     (I’m sure that you’ll be really glad)
     You’ll get a lawyer for your suit,
     Mean and nasty, not so cute.

     Call to live in this great nation
     1-800-IMMIGRATION.
     Or if your bills got you in a rut
     1-800-BANK-RUPT.

     We’re just three guys from Flatbush, Queens
     Who’ll sue that ******* out of his jeans.
     Mama’s proud when she rides this train
     To see my sign making so much rain.

     No SEC no corporations
     We can’t find the United Nations.
     Just give us torts and auto wrecks
     And clients with braces on their necks.

     Hurting when you do your chores?
     There’s money in that back of yours.
     Let us be your friend in courts
     Call 1-800-SUE 4 TORTS.


Dis is 42nd Street, Grand Central, change for the 4, 5 and 7 trains. Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Toity toid is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


They say there’s sev’ral million a day
From out in the ‘burbs, they pass this way.
Most come to work, some for to play
They all want to talk, with little to say.

Bumping and shoving, knocking folks down
A million people running around.
The hustle, the bustle the noise that’s so loud
Get me far from this madding crowd.

“We can be shopping instead of just stopping
And onto the next outbound train we go hopping.
Hey, it’s a feel that that guy’s a-copping!”

They want gourmet food, from steaks down to greens
Or neckties and suits, or casual jeans,
It’s not simply newspapers and magazines
For old people, young people, even for teens.


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is Thoidy toid Street, twenty eight is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     “So what’s the backup plan if
     He doesn’t get into Trevor Day?
     I know your
     heart’s set on it, but we’ve only
     got so many strings we
     can pull, and we can’t donate a
     ******* building.”

           “Hooda believed me if I tolja the Mets
          would sail tru and the Yanks get dere
          by da skinna dere nuts?
          I doan believe it myself.  Allya
          Gotta do is keep O’Neil playin hoit
          And keep Jeter off his game an
          We’ll killum.

               “My sistah tell me she be yo *****.  I tellya I cut you up if you
                ****** wid her, I be yo ***** and donchu fuggedit.”

     “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.
     And we can just **** good and
     Well find some more strings to pull!”

          “Big fuggin chance.  Wadder ya’ smokin?”

               “Yo sitah she ain my *****, you be my *****.  I doan be ******
                wid yo sistah.  You tell her she doan be goin round tellin folks
                dat ****.”


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is Twenty eight Street, twenty toid is next.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     Do you speak Russian, French or Greek,
     We’ll assimilate you in a week.
     If Chinese is your native tongue
     You’ll speak good English from day one.

     Morning, noon, evening classes
     Part or full time, lads and lasses.
     You’ll be sounding like the masses
     With word and phrase that won’t abash us.

     Language is our stock in trade
     For us it’s how our living’s made.
     We’ll put you in a class tonight
     Soon your English’ll be out of sight.

     If you’re from Japan or Spain
     Basque or Polish, even Dane,
     Our courses put you in the main
     Stream without any need for pain.

     We’ll teach you all the latest idioms
     You’ll be speaking with perfidium.
     We’ll give you lots of proper grammar
     Traded for that sickle and hammer.

     Are you Italian, Deutsch or Swiss?
     With our classes you can’t miss
     The homogeneous amalgamation
     Of this sanitized Starbucks nation.


Dis is Twenty toid Street, 14th Street Union Square is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin doors.


     “Ladies and Gentlemen, I hate to bother you
     But things are bleak of late.
     I had a job and housing, too
     Before my little quirk of fate.”

     “There came a day, not long ago,
     When to my job I came.
     They handed me a pink slip, though,
     And ev’n misspelled my name.”

     “We’ve got three kids, my wife and me.
     We’re bringing them up right.
     They’re still in school from eight to three
     With homework every night.”

     “I won’t let them see me begging here,
     They think I go to work.
     Still to that job I held so dear
     Until fate’s awful quirk.”

     “So help us now, a little, please
     A quarter, dime (or dollar still better),
     It’ll go so far to help to ease
     The chill of this cold winter weather.”

     “I’ll walk the car now, hat in hand
     I do so hope you understand
     I’m really a proud, hard working man
     Whose life just slipped out of its plan.”

     “I thank you, you’ve all been oh so grand.”


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is 14th Street, Union Square, change for da 4 and 5 Express, the N and the R.   Astor Place is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     The hours are long, the pay’s no good
     I’m far from home and neighborhood.
     All day I work at Astor Place
     With sunshine never on my face.
     Candy bar a dollar, a soda more
     A magazine’s a decent score.
     Selling papers was the game
     But at two bits the Post’s to blame
     For adding hours to my long day.
     All the more work to save
     Tuition for that son of mine: that tall,
     Strong, handsome, American son


Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Yer at Astah Place, Bleekah Street is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     Summer subway’s always hot, AC’s busted, like as not
     Tracks are bumpy, springs are shot ‘tween the cars they’re smoking
     ***.

     To catch the car you gotta run they squeeze you in with everyone
     Just hope no body’s got a gun 'cause getting there is half the fun.

     Packed in this car we’re awful tight seems this way both day and
     night.
     And then some guys will start a fight.  Subway ride’s a real delight.

     Danger! Keep out! Rodenticide! I read while waiting for a ride.
     This is a warning I have to chide:  
     I’m very likely to walk downtown, but I’d never do it Underground.

     Took the Downtown by mistake.  Please, conductor, hit the brake!
     Got an uptown date to make, God only knows how long I’ll take.


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is Bleekah Street, Spring Street is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     The trains come through the station here,
     The racket’s music to my ear.
  &nbs
Images, overheard (and imagined) conversations.  @2003
Kewayne Wadley Feb 2017
Your name is the kind of name that makes you want to fall in love.
A not so common thing, my sistah.
The expression that appears across your face.
Planning our wedding day in verbatim to the rhythm of our heart.
Learning to dance between the gap of each throb.
Planting the seeds of unity now, so we can one day look back and see how much we've grown together
Cyril Blythe Aug 2012
My fingers ache, pulsate, and I clench with visible nerves.
Again, I push the rusty harmonica to my lips and the pack is hushed.
My pinky fingers are twitching as I play my starting notes
The melody is hollow but I mean for it to be.
They’re all glaring with their innocent eyes. Now I sigh and sing:

He’s a-comin’ sinners,
The trumps’ will sound,
A-riding the silver cloud,
Ain’t no one can hide.

The final notes shake, employed hurriedly for my purpose.
My dry fingers nervously sliding and pinching together,
I know these college kids have money, I know they do, I know they do.

Ammm Lord I’m-a sing,
Blue dawns a-breakin’
Ammm Lord I’m-a weep
Broken soul you’s takin’

They judge me because I’m homeless,
Because I lay crack, my skin, the white-powder, my sin.
My shedding nails and red eyes are thirsty for more,
They don’t know me, no, no, no I’ll prove they are wrong:

My sistah’s brother a-broken,
******* hunger claimin’ this; his soul.
To the devil or against it He, I stand
Lord help me mend our broken soul.
Ayeshah Feb 2014
I sure know how to pick em,
thought this time would be different,
yet the only differences is how
you sweet talked your way
faster into my heart
then any one else ever did.

Sistah'Girl, I tell you I sure know how to pic em,got one whose so good I believed him from day one, believed he'd keep his word and all the major or little things would be a plus,

* the way I stood by him and stood up for him,
the way I support him when he had and has no one else.

How I slave in my kitchen making sure
once he gets home his belly's full,
How is it I'm coming up last over
a ***** that told you to kiss her ***.

Left you in a heap and continues to mistreat you, how am I the sideline ****
  you've turned me into, when I'm pose to be on a pedal-stool.

pose to be the one with the ring
this one on this finger
you claimed meant everything,
yet I continuously find you making
up reasons for your underling
sympathetic *******,

seems to me you still want this
                             unfaithful
                                          ungrateful
                                                      atrocious
                                                               rat face
                                                                      sagging *******  
                                                                                   raunchy ***
                                                                                                        *****.


Be real
man  
and
be honest,

don't sugar coat a **** thing
fo me
I'm not like
most

I'll walk away with a smile
knowing I'm the top notch chick,
the queen you failed to claim,

Motha ***** please.

That trick you continuously long
& yearn fo will have you once more ready to **** yo self,
ready to become once more some type of disgrace,
that well polished heart will once more ache
and all your niceties  
will be for naught,

I'll be far gone
living it up with someone new,
some one who wont take
my love or me for granted,
someone who
isn't ******* you!


Karma huh
well no need to worry about "her"
cuz I'm far worse
and I come
quite as a storm,
make you feel the impact up
close & personal,

like you been ***** deep in ya *******.

like Dorthy when she left ******* Kansas
yo *** about to met the wickedest witch.


you gonna know it was me-you played me
& I told you before don't play with me boo baby,

****, trust me boo,
I seen all to well too many men like you,
the one's you say never compare you to,

funny- now cause seems like your doing the same ****,
just like them whom you don't wish to be compared with.

This is the reason why
                I rather say hell naw
                               get the **** out,
                                                       cuz
                                        I learned years ago,
                                                
                                                              I CAN DO BAD ALL ON MY OWN!
  Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright 1977 - Present ©
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
deep in thought and in my feelings. feeling some type of way!
Carla Marie May 2013
On the crowded bus / from my nice downtown job / looking expensive… and smelling expensive… cuz I am / expensive that is…/ and I’m immediately ****** / cuz I’ve had a long day and I’m tired / and this homeless brother is in the back / talking loud / to his Invisible Confidante / and / without a sign or a signal / but nevertheless as a group / we do not see him…
He is to be ignored…

But my ears do not comply as he sez

It’s one thing to fight to be who you are- and another to fight just to be

And I’m like / ****… that was deep / and the poet in me needs to write this down / cuz “Crazy” follows with

My mother wasn’t nothing- wasn’t no kinda woman at all / Homeless since fifteen how do you explain that? / Nobody’s got the answers to the questions I ask / so I fight in the war / now what’s our new Black president gonna do for me? / When am I gonna get mine?

I sense a burgeoning forgiveness in the crowd / this boy’s… a Vet / but an irritation in my own spirit blossoms because forgiveness / I’m sure / is not real high on the list of all this boy needs / and I suddenly feel like I’ve been somehow negligent*

His Invisible Confidante must have interjected / as he replies

Because… / Big people don’t care about us /  David shuda gave everybody a slingshot / and if they got too big we could **** ‘em / We don’t want to have to look AFTER each other / or even AT each other / can’t even spare a dollar / Tell me to go get a job / like I didn’t try /  It’s hard to fit a camel through the eye of a needle /  So I’ma take my time / Take my time /  Take… take… take… sumthin / Just try to stay modest… just a modest sum is all I need.

The bus has slowly / gotten quieter / all pretending to be ignoring this eloquent schizophrenic / as he merges the holy bible with the u.s. constitution / and adds

Farmers usta run thangs but now Man and God together made satan / I know what I did for my country but what’s my country gonna do for me?

And by now he’s making a jacked-up kind of sense / to more than just me alone... / as he continues

It’s always the black people who think they cool with whitey / I go to the justice center / and they say "leave us alone” / it makes ‘em feel so good / that they could quit THEIR OWN jobs.
  
Which brought to mind the last time WE had to ask for help / Caught myself just in time-- cuz I’se classy now / But I almost said out loud “Say That!” / And he was on a roll…

“I’m sorry” / they say / “go to church” / they say / and at the same time they lookin’ at me / and I know I could never be part’a they church

Somewhere in the front / a sistah couldn’t hold it / and said "Ump!" / In agreement / as only a Black Woman can

And he was speaking…

They say / “I give to charity” / but charities don’t give to the likes of ME… / but people gon be people / so I aint trippin' off that  

I need time and I need help / But I’m a take my time… take… take… my time.  Yeah…

At this point / there is no pretense / we are all actively listening to this accidental poet / this inadvertent incentive to being your brothers keeper / as he says

They act like my mental defect is THEIR disability  

****… that’s ****** up

And so I guess I’m supposed to go downtown / and be all nasty and ***** / just so I can get their little piece of paper / and- smoke- some- cigs- and- smoke- some- crack-and- be happy / is that it?
but they don’t know / In the end it’s not about gettin’ high /  it’s about gettin’ by
Right …? / Yeah…

Here / he finally / mercifully / signals his stop / and prepares to leave his Invisible Confidante with

Thanks for lettin’ me free my mind, baby /  Like inna waffle house… / drinking so much coffee… /  I just wanna be inna room again… / Maybe even a cell… / Where I can read a paper and think deep about today

Wow... / With that one / we collectively exhale / and look at / our hands / or our laps / or out of our respective windows

Changed

By one of our own
Surprisingly well groomed
Oddly articulate
But deeply wounded
Sons

As he
Head hanging
Shoulders slumped
Disembarks from the number twenty-three city bus
And leaves on us
The residue
Of his melancholy…
  

Note:  Usually when the "Crazy" leaves the bus-  a vocal "Whew, I'm glad that's over!" circulates.  But when this broken young man was gone... no one made a sound.  Not a cellular phone or side conversation... nothing. We rode on in silence…
...to the things that I've learned along the way
Carla Marie
2011
Sharde' Fultz Aug 2014
I keep running, running, running
A young girl trying to find her place in the world
A grown woman trying to be respected for who she really is
I look back at the past and
Down on the present
And hope to God that the future gives me something to look up to
Family curses trink’ling trails of hate in my blood
Reminders of loved ones who were hurt by ones they loved once
Inspirations inspiring me to keep chasing my dreams but reality is …reality
I wake up and wonder what proactive thing I can do today
But reality is reality.
And reality smacks me down and says “nothing”
I’m not a pessimist but I bear a weight with the wield of the world as its stamp
Its not on my back but its on my sisters’ back. It not in my home but its in my brothers’ home
Reverberating in my mind the terrible wonders of the world
Feeling ignorant, not knowing how to help
I read the world news to find out what to do
And lo’and behold a “disabled puppy can only walk in circles”
WHAT?!
Darfur must be a myth and I guess AIDS isn’t “in” anymore
I keep thinking..wait till I’m established
Wait till I’m out of this rut
My life will be holy and pure and intelligent. giving and tithing and..happy and busy…and.. **** and rich?
Cause that’s how it should be right?
Confusing
Why cant I be a soul sistah with locs that likes to listen to rock and give spoken word wearing knit hats and demanding answers? Then go home and maybe watch some anime.
I’m conflicted
I’m disdainful
I’m selfish
I’m vehemently out to get what I want because my forefathers died trying to get it for me
And you know what? I’m gonna get it, because while all this crap goes on in my brain and in my heart , in my family and in the world. Its going to stay at my heels because I keep running, running, running
Damaré M Mar 2014
It's a fiasco that Lupe had to ask fo'
That old school lovin'

From his new school sistah
And his brand new brotha

We have cousins who only want to shine like mcnuggets
Golden and frozen
Only to consume materials and chemicals
Unidentical to anyone who is Familial
Being a individual is habitual

My Old Head once said
That love is the ultimate residual

He also said that if you want to go fast, then go ahead and 'haul ***'

But if you want to go far, then let's all grab a hand and we can make it to Mars

We had wise elders
Working men and women
Destined young children

A household of resilience

Today I don't see the resemblance

Now days our commonality is technology brilliance
Common sense hindrance
Essentially ignorant
Aesthetically belligerent
Peer success is resented
Pure disrespect is persistent
Disconnected by the church
Dispirited by the religion

Freedom must I mention
...
Is unattainable by oneself
You have to love and be love
Help and be helped

Lupe feel what I felt
Why must we be negligent to Old School Lovin?

I miss the old school woman
Or am I just a expired man?
With a discontinued heart,
And past due plans...

I miss the old school family
Or am I just a terminated son?
With a ceased smile
And a elapsed interpretation of fun

I thought the past impacted the future
But I will take a pass on my future
As long as you are away

As long as I'm here
As long as you love me
Gimme that old school love right now
Aaron Jul 2019
I thank
every black
woman,
for being a
black woman
and staying true
to their soul
while knowing
that the goal
is to keep them
spiritually,
and mentally in
a black hole
where they
brittle and burn
down to
nothing more than
broken black coals
but in every sistah’s
triumph is ignited
deep down by a riot
that doubles as a lion
to nash and knaw through
each of the
trials
and slowly, but
surely
every inch
and pinch
forward turns
into many miles

As you
slice through
your struggles
with a heavenly
finesse and
a flourishing style,
I pray you
wear proudly
your curly haired
crowns
as dark skin
conquerers that
NO man
can defile

I love you
Naash Sep 2017
Why don’t we drink our coffee black?
Dark chocolate if too strong.
Our skin looks like a muddle puddle,
A ***** ***** pond of dung.
So, many feel contamnated,
And they set themselves on fire,
Drown in  a tub of bleach
Spend thousands and thousands,
Trying to abolish this germ.
Covering it up, watering it down
Staying indoors, swimming in woes,
Shaking it off,
But not ti the african drum.
As ever brown sistah turns into a star
My volaptuous lips still utter the plea:
Please leave me unwashed.
#black #dirt #race
SelinaSharday Jun 2020
Phone rings..Guurll.. hey sis!
HRU hello... todays crazy yo.
Girl sit down tell me, yes I know
I know the stress, its crazy today right..
yes, I knowa.. ..
Today just ain't the day..tell me bout it.
Lord let me just Pray,
I can not Adult today..
I'ma be actin like a child
throwin temper tantrums and it wont be mild.
Sis let me say this..
I can hear the stress in your voice,
The mood in your tone.
Like Hey Leave a sistah alone..
Seems like every thing came to drive ya insane.
Gurl I feel ya pain..
Now here's the thang..
You  can chose to vent it.. Come on now vent it..
I 'm hearing you..
..&^%#@%&
Nah your not threw there's some mo inside of you.
&^%$#@%^
Get it all out.
Yah that's right, I heard that, fo real, Oh The nerve, see now,
whattt's , Girl naw,, shut up.. ah hell no.. Say what, Oh no she/he didn't.
Wonder whats that all about,
SHOUT, get it all out. tell em..
Now here' u sum.."What eva's, "this isn't gone worry me's", "I don't have time for it" and  some "I'm done, I'm over its". Put on some  new fits.
Because we  gone drink a glass of.. In my own world Juice, or  sip some tea of Sleepy time I Got You Tea", And or  have some, My life is blessed with Peace Fruit slices...
Add some cheese and crackers of..I'm a Queen and In control snacks.
As we sit back and put our feet up, ready to brush ourselves off of all those wacks.
Ain't got time for that's..
Listening to some rhythmic melodies
Of its all about me's.
As The tunes fill the room. Gone get your rest on, hang up the phone.

selinasharday 6/2020
These r some trying times were are in
Cedric McClester May 2018
By: Cedric McClester

Brother just because
You’re willing and able
To accept the crumbs
From your master’s table
Doesn’t mean that
Your position’s stable
Or that you won’t receive
An Uncle Tom’s label

Sistah because you reside
In the master’s house
Don’t confuse yourself
With his spouse
Although he may give you
Her very used blouse
You’re still poorer
Than the average church mouse

Don’t look down at us
Still in the fields
Because we don’t get
The same kind of meals
If you have no idea
Just how it feels
Be careful of what
Your attitude reveals

Some of you don’t mind
That you’re being used
And Some of you, simply put
Are just confused
And some of you are Toms
Just as you’re accused
And some of you are
Damaged goods who got bruised






Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018.  All rights reserved.
Of "permanent" Sleep

Abbott, nothing beats the
     immortal heavenly reincarnation
     after mortality odometer
     unexpectedly set to zeros
preparing deceased
     body, mind and spirit,
     as I eternally rest in peace
     asthma terminally ill self pitched

     forever and anon deathly yoyos,
no matter rigor mortis froze
poised position aye chose
with limbs akimbo
     as final seconds didst close
before transcendent
     shimmering light rose,
     this sentient being

     now en route to bro's
and twisted sistah,
     I pleasantly heard angels
     counting black crows,
thus, aye beamed delightfully,
and joyus lee, when innocently
     proudly dashed of this prose
during, what seemed an infinite

    walk to the gallows,
nonetheless, an everlasting
     slumber awaited compared
     to a brief, yet
     temporal quality repose,
now soul to keep
     will join rank and file
     standing straight as arrows

of Harris Hessian brigade,
     (though unusual, untimely,
     and unnatural death,
     I am NOT opposed
     attested by this germane guy),
     than...,undoubtedly
     much more refreshing
     albeit prolonged dose,

where the corporeal self goes
into permanent deep slumber,
     yet impossible to regale,
     and add depose
(of beatitude), until
     til the end of timed minutes
     after eyes close,
where eyelids shut tight

     like miniature steel trap doors,
     and subconscious self flows
into deepest forever
     rapid eye movement
     from head to toes
sublimating forever into
     vividly profound, albeit
     immediately forgotten dreams

     representing lifetime aiming
     to get deceased expose
zing for all the world to see
     how non wakeful state grows
absent heroic measures
     prolonging awful existence,
     whew did close
subsequently brows

out, asper misguided
     wrongful death sentence, aye
     whole heartedly embraced
at long last NO more
     struggles, aye suppose,
NOR fending off grogginess,
     when living times predominantly
     felt many futile attempts witnessing

     chronically tired state, whar
     this plain being oft times
     took **** NON
     fatal Kamikaze nose
dive finding (not ready
     for after life prime time player
     unpracticed to prolong fatigue pros),
say ick lee, hence physical self

     dove right back dwelling
     amidst sleepy hallows
presently able (I cane)
     cease worrying stave off
     indomitable drowsiness succumbing
     to overwhelming tiredness,
which occasionally (nee daily) warranted
     necessary advantageous measures

     intravenously access
     sing caffeinated jolt
     to get a headstart, jumpstart,
     and kickstart from
     sipping morning "Joe," Blows
i.e. coffee than marveling
     as "FAKE" energy
     noel hunger grows!
YES!!!!
I'M CURVY,
SO WHAT????
I got a
CHUBBY BELLY and
a BIG OLE *****,
I can't help that,
I CAN'T HELP that
I'M CURVY.
CHUNKY MONKEY,
PLUMP AND PUDGY,
CURVACEOUS, VOLUPTUOUS,
To me,
I think that's
SIMPLY MARVELOUS.
There's NOTHING WRONG
with BEING LARGE,
I got it GOING ON, and
I know I'm IN CHARGE.
YOU GOT A PROBLEM
WITH IT???,
That's OKAY, it's COOL,
You better GET OUT
OF MY WAY, or
I'LL ROLL ALL-OVER YOU!!!!
I am not
SLIM JIM, nor
am I
SKINNY MINNY,
I am BIG BONDED SISTAH, and
the MEATINESS IS PLENTY.
There's NOTHING WRONG
with HAVING SOME CURVES,
I'm FABULOUS, and FLUFFY and
JUST FEELING SUPERB!!!!!!
I think that's GRAND, and
I think that's SWEET,
Now, RESPECT MY SIZE,
WE JUST CAN'T BE BEAT!!!!


B.R.
Date: 8/20/2024
Yes, I am curvaceous, and I accept my size. I am proud of what I am!!!! So, this is a anthem to myself, and to those in the same boat!!!! (SO, TO ALL OF MY CURVY FEMALES OUT THERE: JUST SAY: WE ARE CURVY AND WE ARE PROUD SAY IT LOUD!!!!) (PLEASE EXCUSE THE LINGO OF FLOWERY NESS!!)
Travis Green Jun 2020
My melanin skin was the rarest treasure
in life that made me glow like an immense
halo, a starry sweetness dipped in splendor
and swag, an elixir of enchanting passion
glittering along with the rings of Saturn, brown
sugar of soul blended in with dreamy poetry.
I was authentically deep and riveting, a Nubian
queen full of serene sensations, an angelic
goddess gliding on the wings of glorious
streams, listening to the soothing melodies
playing under the sunset, the hip-hopping
trees twirling their leaves to the beat
of my seamless physique.  Buttery brown
beauty adorned with sheer elegance,
uniqueness, supremeness, earth’s nature
radiating greatness in my chocolate brown
sexiness.  My lips were lit, spitting the dopest
diction in the streets, representing my luxuriant
gleam, my black afro hair bursting with deep
ancestral roots, pure richness brightening like
the sunshine, a stunning sistah with that flowing
flavor, swaying hips, smoking shoulders,
******* making all the fellas go wild.  
I was that sleek ebony beauty brimming
with soul rhymes, brick booming basslines,
the symmetry of my aesthetic existence a throne
of the greatest adventures, all magically black
and natural, utterly powerful, expressive,
blacknificent, blessed, successful, unstoppable,
creative and favored by God.
Travis Green Jun 2020
She is a trailblazing, dashing, the former First
African American Lady, decked in spectacular
fashion, sheer class, and elegance, profound
decisiveness, immeasurable power, and prestige,
authentic queen, serene, gleaming dreams
springing forth black excellence.  She is artistic,
intelligent, resilient, unapologetically influential,
black girl magic bursting from her soul,
so innovated and educated, a melanin treasure
covered in natural dopeness, a divine diva
dripping with flavor.  She is a God-fearing
woman and mother of two beautiful daughters,
Malia and Sasha, her loving husband, the
former president, Barack Obama, marking
history as the first black man to reach greatness
and change the course of history.  She is a street
symphony of golden enchantment,
silky smooth as honey, flawless, melanin
poppin’, unstoppable, the perfect line
to a phenomenal poem, a vivacious soul
sistah overflowing with inspiration
and determination, a courageous woman  
full of glowing grandeur.

— The End —