civil
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Hurt and abusedLost and confusedFeeling accused, just by being you.The color of your skin does not define youThe length of your dreads does not disguise you. The way that you walk does not deprive youBut the way that your heart is will arise you.
I am a Nappy headed woman, I love my naps...I love my curls...I love my dreads.. I refuse to let anyone put chemicals in my head...
Bold Dark presenceWreaks its havocAmongst the people,Poison’d human Morality,Degraded by Brutality,Guarded from Equality,Caged by harmful Mentality.
Given the opportunity to share my point of view...
I wish my professor can see that i am more than just a mere name on a sheet of paper
I am more than just another body in a desk
How can you have hate
For the color of my skin
I've done nothing wrong
Is me living life a sin
I'm a person, a human
Like each and every one of you
I've done nothing to harm
I'm no Maya Angelou, Mark Twain, or Emerson.
I don't yet know my dearest complaints, intents, or direction.
I've never been hurt so bad that I've been deeply pained,
I have, however, seen enough to know that we need change.
You pay women to dance, while your love is at home.
Two Viking babies asking when daddy is coming home.
How familiar is my name,
For daddy’s the one to blame...
Your ice cold look is really just a new flame.
Know, that every time you speak against me,
With that dull razor cut tongue of yours,
A little piece of my stored rage slithers its way into existence.
Making my finger fidget uneasy, involuntary.
My favorite color is gray.
Why? Gray is so boring, so neutral, so.. dead. Right?
Gray is what happens when you mix the polar opposites of
Black..
and White.
When you mix oppression with freedom,
(poems go here) On December 1st 1955,
Rosa Parks sat in the middle of a Storm,
And refused to move.
It was a Storm that had been covering America for decades,
Raining down malice,
They said we were free
From the chains and the whips,
Yet this is another
Kind of imprisonment.
No freedom at all,
To choose and to vote.
My voice is not heard
But rather ignored.
The cage is open
But not to free me.
To free me from the bonds
That once held my cellmate
Whom I expect now runs
Far away from the hate
They wanted to call us colored
But what did colored mean
To a population with crops dying
Radiation spewing across the sky
Changes from green to dead
And blue to hidden
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
When people had to live with prejudice they couldn’t bear.
They did what it took to make America fair.
If one lost hope, another would pull them through
Not only for them, but for decedents too.
FREE AT LAST! FREE AT LAST!
Black America has been inspired
By these words from the past
But are we truly free?
This question puzzles me?
When our fellow brothers and sisters
Everyday, every hour, every way I turn reminds me about
the days, the ways, the people who paved
this path so I can walk on
I wish on broken stars...
'cause those bright ones give off too much light,
too much light can be blinding and if i remember correctly
becoming blind was never on my bucket list so,
I settle for the dim ones instead.
Shouts in the streets again
My pulse wakes from its slumber
With all risings, it says "amen"
Oh Lord, just let me get home to feed my kids
We're all warm bodies,
put together in an artistic ways,
Our skin isn't what society embodies,
There were never any good ole days,
Shunned by society,
No love for Ebony and Ivory,
White men had the right,
Just pass a test,
And fill out the ballot,
But African Americans and women could not,
Why were we restricted?
Some say black,
Some say brown.
They call us monkeys,
Some still slaves.
They call us stupid and uneducated,
But really there is some irony in that.
Every day we wait
And wait, and wait
Wait for our truth
Our justice
Our rights
But they never come.
Media purports them
Politicians revoke them
But the people never receive.
Look at all these presidents,
They're all the same kind of gentlemen.
Wearing their suits and ties.
I wonder where are their wives.
Sitting at home?
Perhaps, I don't know
Because they can't tag along.
Brown, yellow , black , white
There just colors no need to fight
We are all equal in every way
So I am writing this poem because I am here to say
That freedom is a gift you see
Beaten, battered and broken
Through hell and back,
We stay alive,
The torture, the hate and lack of respect
From Emmitt Till to Rosa Parks,
They endured, they fought!
[We fight and we live
we strive and we cry.]
to live in a world so cold
so brave so frightful
so full.
Of Color [we sigh and
we hide and we hate.]
to live in a world of hopes
and dreams
Little do we know,
A Civil Rights Movement
Is happening right now.
During these times,
Protestors remain silent,
Hiding in shadows.
Paralyzed by fear
Of being snatched
Away from family.
Equal people, same in hand and face,
but outcast quickly when not the chosen race.
Die for beliefs that should self explain,
that treatment you beg for, hope to gain.
Scream and battle with tooth and fist,
“We shall overcome,” he said. His eyes held strength as he gripped the podium.
And spoke to the crowds of mothers, brothers, sisters, fathers and sons.
I do not wear the same skin as youbut our struggles, they are similar.You see, while you are outcastfor the way you look, the color of yourouter shell; I am turned away for whom I love.
A cry arose from the crowd
Then came another
A sister, a brother
Shouting above to be heard, be proud
What is truth? What is justice?
Turns are taken
Voices shaken
You, they, are equally us!
Together let’s play a game,
A game of Checker’s with two colors,
With squares both equal and same.
