The Whole Truth

By MJR

A great man ain’t always the interpreter of great things
For he is imperfect in the eyes of those selfishly unwilling to make change
Yet life offers up all the free-will and right to pave the way
To those who follow our footsteps ambitiously and humbly at a patient pace
The foundation of my struggles is what made me critically elevate my hustle
To bag up a success plan and distribute it to a positive future that outwits the Devil
Move along Blackman is what the oppressor says
I hate you n****** is the message hidden in what he can’t and will not say
Why?
Because he fears our strength and envies our cultural essence
We are the original people enslaved by manipulation and God’s divine glory of blessings
So first time it’s shame on you and second time it’s shame on me
Why is it that the same crime my oppressor commits always seem to get blamed on me
We living in a world where misconception is held in high regards of truth
I guess that’s why when they say “Freeze, put your hands up”
It motivates them to “Shoot”

Platforms

By JK

Platforms and I’m not talking about the shoes,
I’m writing about the people speaking who don’t have a clue

Platforms that were built on my L4 and L5,
giving me chronic back pain from all the verbal jive

Let’s expand on this privilege, the subject at hand,
this platform of yours where you make your grandstand

So absorbed in your spot that you place others in the dark,
never even a thought to appreciate their written art

What is an effort if not the effort to simply write,
judgmental of creativity where comes your insight

In the sixteen-hundreds, the rave was the selling of slaves,
all carried out on high from the platforms that was raised

A jumble of words is all that we saw,
yet 3/5ths of a man was written constitutional law

Words are intentions behind inventions
so next time you’re on that platform…

before I was
and after I am…

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.

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—–.

America

By AG

The story of freedom always was a work of art
A picture perfect dream that melted my heart,
We defeated the odds
We as a nation seen our first black president
In the land of the free, and I’m proud to be a resident
Everlasting victory, we made classic history
But as of Nov. 2016 we are now back in misery
Man, I ask God to turn this demonic night back to day
open our eyes and see things His way
We all are blinded by our own desires
And the hate is spreading burning like wildfires
Is this the ugly future we want our kids to face
Grow up and be mistreated, because of their race
This is a disgrace, we all should be ashamed
Democrats, and Republicans we all are the blame
This campaign was the spark to the flame
I hope this poem becomes the reader novocaine
It’s time to wake up before it’s too late to make up
Hate to see my country so divided, one track minded
selfish, secluded, and confined.
Without compassion, and empathy as our sight
We will remain channeled, static and black and white
America the great, a beautiful democracy
has flip to hate and hypocrisy
One Election set off the detection
of constant oppression, race neglection
Religion rejection, to separation
immigration, kids scared of deportation
Damn, we all need reflection, a lil’ god meditation
Because prayer is the only medication
to the hurtful situation
God bless America