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It is like a pot of soup on fire Boiling above a thousand degrees Yet it was just meant for warming But no one cares   Firewood burning unevenly North boiling hard While South just steams low
It is like a pot of soup on fire Boiling above a thousand degrees Yet it was just meant for warming But no one cares   Firewood burning unevenly North boiling hard While South just steams low
Oh foreigner, I have lots of fine boys in my area, and good girls in my corner, may i bring you together?   The question is not really one, as her mind is already piecing it, bit by bit.
You fools who are leading us do not know your heritage . Our forefathers fought to liberate themselves from forced labour . They killed the wicked slavers and burned down the Great Houses .
Children of the lion. Biding to be free. The motherland of the people. Cries with the trees.  
With a smoke pipe in my hands, I lay on a seat of palm. With thoughts of our land, I frail. The words of Nnamdi Azikiwe, Navigate within the boundaries of my young mind.
LOAYMW   These are the lines of a Young man's wrinkle   1. They say time is money It's why I'm seeking Benjamin's watch Running businesses on old testament thoughts
Adeb́oĺa ́ òòòòò Ìshòlá omo Adé Omo ìyíọlásemí, omo Adégbóyèga Ìshol̀á Omo tápà Adé Omo Ọba Olójòkú ti ilu Òjòkú Òjòkú, mosè mo jalú omo Arógun díyàn Mo deĺe ́mo kiẹ́ oooo Adeb́oĺa ́Omo Oba (Rezthapoet, Reztha
I know nothing, since when i fell in dilemma, within that world of violence, i became nothing among things, as the sleeping hog! I'm singled, living in this shade of sorrows and struggles,
"How do the longness of the true love is?" was my question to my girlfriend, she held my hand and covered my nose, i removed it quickly, i thought she was about to kill me, but she said;
It hurts, when these thoughts come in my mind, with high pressure as blood beats, pumping my brain veins. I'm still in coma, i can't define myself, even if my eyes focus my target,
We were very happy, flying in the quiet night, around the kindness moon, our colors were our pride, the pride that gave us the smile, the smile that gave us breath, the breath that allowed us to jump
When the luminous rays of the fireball so many miles away just glistens off of your brown skin...   It often forces the mind to wander to distant sacred places that can only be found within...  
black girlYour skin is of goldIt shines ever so brightly in the sunThe sun kisses your skin ever so softlyCreated from brown sugar, cocoa, and honeyOh so sweet you areBlack girl
Hello, I’m not a coon or a savage And I don’t live in the projects or eat chicken and watermelons for breakfast, lunch and dinner. No, I don’t live on the “block” and sell dope.
Bang! Another one down  A black main lies helpless on the ground People look and record with nothing to do  One reaches for their phone then another then two She falls next to him with tears in her eyes
Dark black is my colour Don’t confuse that with another Like rich black oil flowing In seamless precision   Don’t stare at me because of your decision Don’t be perplexed because its your own confusion
Mansa Musa, Shaka Zulu, Nefertiti, Akhenaten-- Something is similar about all of these names No doubt, there are complexities that make these names uncommon However, the common fact is that they played no games.  
They didn't come in a package I wasnt given a choice They welcomed my with open arms They brought me into this world with pure hearts The breath of life could be the gift of life
I am a hyperpigmentation. An overdose of melanin. I am the aftermath of a merciless fire, and the darkness enveloping a starless night.
I am a Queen, a supreme human being I bleed gold and my words are bold I am a Black Queen, though it may not be easy being green Being black can be just as bad, sometimes even sad But as a Queen, I take pride
A strand of my hair is my great grandmother.
When I was in the fourth grade I walked up to my dance teacher and said, “I am African-American.” She promptly spit out the water she was drinking and replied, “You’re half black?”
The Skin I’m in The Skin I’m in doesn’t mean I am covered in sin Or that I am corrupt from within born into a life of violence and rage. That because of my skin tone I am an animal uncaged.  
If I said I was a leader would you follow. If I said I was inspiring would you listen.If I said I was a Christian would you believe me.
Yes I'm black, that doesn't mean I'm vulnerable to attack, I'm just like you, a human, red blood, emotions and a moving figure,
war, there is war everywhere in Iraq, Syria, and even in the U.S.A, recently there has been an epidemic of police bashing. A seed in Ferguson was shot to death by a police officer, which sent a fire through the field.
Her beauty is a wonder. Her smile is intriguing. With fiery black eyes, And an elegance to her ebony skin, She makes the stars look like they're not shining. If beauty could be described in words,
Black & white Why fight between us human Why racism compare to color ? You might be white or black and nothing difference between us.
I've grown up around strong women. To be specific, I've been surrounded by strong black women. That doesnt make me strong though  This made it hard for me to find myself. I wanted to be like them 
I am more than the box you put me in.
I know the guys always say the same old line. "The makeup compliments your eyes" Honestly your personality compliments your mind you one of a kind. No matter how much makeup you apply you can't never hide what's inside.
As I look in the mirror and smile at my face I can't help but wonder where I got these traits Who was the one to give me my skin? Who gave me the nose that breathes in? What was your name?
didn't make the teamlast one to be pickedkicked to the curbbefore the chance was givento be all you could bewith the support of a familynow your homeless
I want people to see me beyond what i am. To stop saying i am too African when i am already black enough for them to see. Yes i am black and i love it. I love it even when they don't agree.
And no matter what your scars represent. They aren't your entire story. Just an ugly chapter.  But your story goes on.  And it may have several ugly chapters.
My soul is like an empty sock Cold and pleading for a foot. But my soul is allergic to feet So it weeps at night for the homeless grass.   I also like to watch the moon smile at the stars.
Its coarse taut roots embedded themselves within my chest, making it harder to finish my quest. Its icy cold petals blossomed within,
We all cry for help don't we? We are in need of help for every little trouble or bump along the way in our path. But there are others in the world and in our communites that are in BIGGER trouble and they need OUR help.
We have been living amongst a misconception Misconceived by those who decided to create the title “Black History Month” Now I understand this title was created to celebrate historical figures
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