Black History
That’s all they want us to be is History
Black power.
Now that’s real power,
The type of power if we unite the
world, we’d devour.
Fight
Sometimes we feel like hiding
To
Crawl back in our shell
But
Life is all ‘bout fighting
So
Be sure that you fight well.
Dear Mama
Dear Mama, I want you to know that I love you so much.
Through all the hard times, you held your head up.
Dear Mama, you work so hard five days a week.
Just so I could have clothes, a roof over my head
And something to eat.
Breath
My inner love speaks. I stand still. I listen.
I take in the birds, the ants, the people, the air.
Everything connected to me by the Divine.
Is it illogical I would exist entirely orphaned.
Contaminated Dreams
I dream about love, peace and happiness in the same sequence as the devil capturing me, taking my soul before turning 19 years old.
Each morning I awake feeling uncomfortable, my heart being cold.
Dreams are contaminated thoughts, empirical surreal nightmares that your mind bought.
I dream about the power of real love, the kind you will never lose or give up.