They Don’t Want Us to Recite Our Poems

By AG

They don’t want us to recite our poems, don’t want the people to behold any signs or see any symbols and they d-mn sure don’t want us to know that the ancestors are with us. They don’t want us to recite our poems.

They fear the foreign sounds of our secret language: Hope. They thought it long dead. They are afraid of the spread of our fever how it creeps along the sense—our hearing and seeing, our awakening perception, our ability to sniff out what’s false.

The willingness to feel our most painful wound, the taste of blood on our lips. They don’t want us to recite our poems.

They are afraid of the promise of our spring, the way mother earth blushes green for us, hiding her gift in full view of both the strong and weak alike.

She has shown us fine stones in a babbling brook: love, faith, courage, tenacity, and understanding. They fear the inevitable fall of their rampaging giants.

They don’t want us to recite our poems. They want us to die with our songs unsung. They want to bury our burnt-out husks perfectly preserved shells, with sightless eyes of bitter black smoke and a mouthful of tightly clenched pearl-white teeth, trapping inside, for all eternity, the music that they desperately fear.

They don’t want us to recite our poems.

Untitled

By WD

If the body that you rent
Is not just a cup but the content
Then your identity is entity

The time you spend with me is never wasted
I speak truth and help you face it
To take you far beyond the basics

One with patience
Looks at this bankrupt nation and misapplied enumeration
As the reason why there is a matrix
I’m here awake with

So many sleeping minds, I have to keep in mind
Not to calculate the steps I take
Because the steps I take are eager
To fulfill a greater will

Everyone is great until
They find a blind time with no help left
Why don’t you help self

Unless you have something better to do
But what is better than you

 

WD encourages the reader to suggest a title.

Tears of Hope

By LG

Dedicated to Free Minds Volunteers

Poetry bleeding from my instrument
Staining my canvas for years
Generosity pouring from my peers
Transforming my hope into tears

It seems like it was just yesterday
When I realized this wonderful gift
Ever since I opened my present
My life has taken a shift

When your desire for something is strong
The manifestation will come to pass
Uncontrollable emotions
As you say to yourself, “At last”!

Cursed since my incarceration
now blessed and highly favored
Indebted to a Free Mind
This taste will forever be savored

After a finished masterpiece
I step back and stare in awe
All thanks and glory to god
For a talent I never foresaw

Eager to encourage the world
I humbled myself with joy
With passion to strengthen the weak
Into a fortress no one can destroy

It’s hard to express with words
But thank you for giving me hope
My tears describe my emotion
As a brilliant kaleidoscope

Whispers

By PL

When this old world wears me down
And the darkness comes in layers
I seek a quiet place within myself
And whisper the Lord’s prayer…

I ask for strength to face each day
More fortitude (to endure)
For humility (that I may sacrifice)
And the Holy Spirit’s cure

My foolish pride and arrogance
May sometimes scream naysayer
But when this old world wears me down
I whisper my Lord a prayer…

For protection, guidance, patience and faith
A heart that has no stones
That crooked be suddenly straight
And for heaven to be my home…

When life gets hectic and beats me down
There’s a remedy that I prefer
I don’t rant or rave or wear sad frowns
I bear my soul in whispers

Sometimes I Cry

By DJ

I told a million lies now it’s time to tell a single truth
Sometimes I cry!
It’s hard dealing with my pride not knowing whether to fight or flee
Sometimes I cry
Hard to maintain this image of a tough guy
When deep down inside I am terrified!
If I ever told you I wasn’t scared I lied
Struggling to make it back to society and my family
I cry
I cry for my son who I barely see
Due to these mountains
And me and his mom’s beef
I cry for my siblings who never knew their older brother
Because he stayed in the streets
I cry for my grandma who is now deceased
I cry for my life, half of which they took for me
I cry for my anger and rage the only emotions I can show in this place
I cry for how we treat each other inside these walls
I cry for the lack of unity we have most of all!
When will it end I want to know
Till then all I can do is let these tears flow…