Black, Gifted, and Proud

By DB

Since I’m Black and considered 1/3 of a man
They feel I can only relate to crime
My physical imprisonment is a tactic
To conceal thoughts produce by my creative,
Innovative strength of mind
I’m united as one man
& hope my Brothers and sisters will unite as one Klan
Stripped of our nationality and culture
Only to become ancestors to no land
My pigmentation is a pig temptation
To annihilate our race and uplift America
To a white man nation
The truth is basic
Only seek by those willing to see
If you choose to face it you’ll learn
What seem to still be confusing to me
One nation under God
Was facilitated by a façade
To weaken our defenses from simply
Oppressing the odds
Now who’s in charge
The last decision
Is OURS
As a whole we must proclaim
We’re Black, Gifted and Proud.

Dear America

By IS

I’m writing you today, a lost voice from prison
Lost and confused about this country we live in
And the people that’s in it
How do you claim to be united, when there’s so much division
So much division based on religion
Based on our culture, our sex, and our pigment
Oh America, how could you be so selfish and ignorant?
To allow a man of this nature, guide us with ignorance
On a path to destruction, I pray for deliverance
For the colored, for the poor, for the Muslim and immigrant
Oh America, Oh America, you have shown your colors
How many years in your country will my people suffer?
I shed tears for my brothers, my sisters and mothers
The words that you utter have exploited your cover
You America, have proven racism still exists
The leaders of your nation consist of white supremacists
There are those who follow them and those who are against
A war within your people, your country’s at risk
I fear for you America, but I pray that I am wrong
Sincerely, yours truly, I—– S—–.

War Child

By DM

Inspired by the book War Child by Emmanuel Jal

I am battling for my life
I’ve got one chance to get it right
If I get it wrong, I’ll lose my life
My kids, my freedom, plus my wife
I’m a war child who represents the struggle
The ones on the corner, all they do is hustle
I’m striving for my GED, so when I come home
I get a nice paying job and live stress free
I’m a war child livin’ out of a cell
A child of God who is stuck in hell
Only time will tell
I hope my options won’t fail

I Got Up

By DC

If you see a man down, do you assume that he fell?
If the burning in his eyes is there, which story does it tell?
If he is on his knees, is this a sign of submission?
Or was he once on his back, and rose to this position?

If you see him dropping his head, staring at the ground
Did he quit? Or is he looking for a new way to get around?
If you see that he is in tears, and he is letting them run
Do you assume that he lost, or that he has won?

Is he giving up or getting up?
Is he content with the notion of slumber
With no real inclination of waking up?
Could you give him a sec, could you wait?
To watch him fall, and then rise to be great?

For his struggle, though long and imperfect
Built him up from nothing
So it was worth it
From laying to sitting, from sitting to kneeling
To now almost standing – his resolve, so willing!

To be standing on his own, is his burning desire
It’s what drives him, like passion filled fires
To put his head up high, and his chest popped out
And not many can say, they know what “getting up” is about

Fertile Concrete

By GL

Lead and fire, erupted out of the stainless . . . steel weapon of humane destruction
Lead and fire has left a heart broken; a napkin soaked in; tears of grief
Which pours out of the crease of 2 eye sockets
Then rolls down the cheeks of a grieving soul
onto the surface of a sleeping man child
Who open his eyes, then show his grandma his dimples and gummy smile
Then he fills his lungs up with air, ball up his little hands, kick his legs
then allow the church to become acquainted with his presence

In a setting which is sad, the young lad, who never had
the luxury of knowing his dad – Grew up to be a college grad
Through correspondence – Through the walls of correctional institutions
Un-consciously volunteered in the destruction of his neighborhood
Because he only knew of no better options . . .
Grew up in a culture of crime
Where money is worshiped and tough guys drop dimes
The world tried to rob him out of his prime
But he primed his mind with knowledge
Now he obtain raw power
I believe that the concrete produced a rose
but all you probably see is a flower.