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A-B-C's (a historical alphabet of) L Americans C K -or- the Economy of E-Bonics they cAme Before Columbus &thought they Belonged because Being born in places like Botswana Biafra, Bimini &Brazil Africans Being Captured & Begging to be Brought Back by Boat … A Bale of Cotton left Branded as Burglars … Bandits & Burdened Brought & Bargained for by Bigots Banished by-passed Beaten & Broken Betrayed & Brutalized -- by being black -- but it … BE'S … that way sometime! All Black Common Denominators Eventually Find Grievous Homicide Is Justified Killing Lasting More Nor Opposing Proper Questioning Reasonable Standards Test Underachievers Vicariously When X & Y = Zero 26 letters in the alphabet …19 out of 41 B-ullets in Diallo's B-ody "How do you spell B-elief?" "Class - Diss’- Missed" Saleem Abdal-Klaaiq (c) email@example.com % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % IN MEMORIAM if you have tears give them to me when have you heard that the man in the supreme chair has exchanged his thinking cap for the shell of a crab? where have you heard that it is right to close your eyes when all around you open their eyes to be humanely judicious? if you have tears give them to me when the hunter's snare catches the monkey it is time for crawling animals to beware the leopard and the wolf went to fish when the sun went down to sleep the wolf did not return to his children what befell the wolf only heaven knows only the leopard knows only the gods would know to hold your knife and drill holes into the skin of a deer and ask him if he has red blood can only be a song sung to children but when it becomes a dance-drama only those who eat fresh skull-meals can be bold to say: I don't care, I won't care and it does not matter tell me which mother would not cry when the child of her hopes drops dead in his quartermoon not that he was called home by his Creator but gunned down by the man paid to protect him? tell me gently that I may know tell me softly that I may have a word for my children my brother, when the hunter's snare catches the monkey tell my sisters it is time for crawling animals to beware Padmore Agbemabiese (c) firstname.lastname@example.org % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % DOLLARMITE JUSTICE FOR DIALLO 41 shots 4 trigger happy cops Another Black man is dead Not a street savvy punk Like the last one they beat up But, a hardworking immigrant instead Still there is no justice Still no proper blame Move the trial to the suburbs Where all folks think the same Worried about their riches The dirty sons of witches Didn't have the nerve to convict those that protect & serve their interests One less potential thug to worry about Besides one cop did shed some tears As he worried about the years of retirement pension he might lose once word got out Was he sorry? Yes indeed Such accuracy & speed He followed his peers straight to Hell Too late to undo the damage This would cost a lot of cabbage Hurry! Conjure up the right story to tell They reloaded & kept on shooting Although the poor man was on the ground They thought he'd raped some white women So they had a right to gun him down But, when they figured out No medals would be earned They had to figure out how to keep from getting burned Take it to the suburbs Where all the folks think white Doesn't matter what color All Dollarmites think alike Crystal Cartier (c) CartierX@aol.com % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % ...I'M NOT SURPRISED... I awaken to the still .. of the morning sunrise Beckoning it's reckoning... yet am I surprised? I grace my thought to the world's famous entertainment machine. As I'm reminded Of another dreadful scene. A six year old With gun in hand. Another life taken, So short a time-span. A gunman goes on.. Yet another killing spree. As bodies fall briskly, All around me. As I peer out the window, To start my day. I wonder what homage. I will have to pay. I glance back, As a father is shown from his captive cell. Is there any valid story, He could possibly tell. I walk through the room, As my body slumps on a chair. Am I surprised... At the dread in the air. I glance back motionless.. At the beauty of the morning sunrise. And hold my face in hand.. For I'm still not surprised. Then in a flash, Another story spills. 41 shots.... Another of the innocent killed. Now I fade.. For my body is just a shell From the morning glory, My soul has fell. I slowly move.. And force my energy to rise. I have to get started.. Yet still I'm not surprised. I press the button, As the screen goes dark. I try to hide my thoughts. From the place where.. reckless random has parked. Now in the space. Serenity...herein lies blank. As I wallow in the misery, Where my senses have also sank. I open the door, And peer up at the now clouds in sky. Still not surprised.. That sadness devoured herein lies. Gloria Ware (c) email@example.com % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % WHOM DO WE BLAME? A World Trade Center in Smoke, In Lockerbie, metal souls lay shattered, Simple diners in a Luby’s Cafeteria, Blood on their chests, Apple tarts in their laps. All for what? And whom shall we blame? Murrah building in bits, Concrete and flesh mixed in the rain, In Colorado Columbine scent of gunsmoke, While a beauty queen lass lay grotesque. In a Michigan McDonalds, coffee mingles with death. All for what? And whom shall we blame? A mother mourns her daughter just six, A two-year old calls for dad, Who is quiet in the twisted metal of a van. While a drunk asks stupidly, "what happened?" A teen in the gutter, a needle in his arm, vacant, gone. All for what? And whom shall we blame? Strewn body parts across the nation, Young girls disembodied for a maniac’s grin, Young black boys floating sightless in the river, While we once again sit shocked, in denial. Forty whacks with an axe? All for what? And whom shall we blame? Burning crosses in the night, Flayed flesh tattered at the end of a chain, Chevy vengeance because of a name, A door not hung straight, And the skin color not right, but red is red. All for what? And whom shall we blame? A Cuban boy in the seas alone, Forty-one bullets fly to an unknown now known, Smoke curls from the Branches of Dividian fame, Bombs burst, and bodies fly, So who is afraid of Virginia Wolf? All for what? And whom shall we blame? Catastrophic destruction, Personal losses and pains Road rages, acts of anger unchained, Public defenders now public offenders, Guns, drugs, bombs, alcohol, fate, All for what? When will we take our share of the blame? Shaun Cecil (c) firstname.lastname@example.org % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % % FREE YOUR MIND: A SLAVE'S PERSPECTIVE Roaming free through the field of dreams Not realizing all is not what it seems For I did not see, until too late Never knew of my awaiting fate Bound in chains, feet & hands Never to see again my beloved homeland Thrown in a ship to sail cross the sea To begin a new life in this thing called slavery On an auction block, sold like cattle Only served as a catalyst for my mental battle To not forget from whence I came Even though they have decided to change my name Whipped like an animal, it only makes me stronger Lay awake at night wondering how much longer Children stolen from parents, raped and tossed away We’re not considered human, we have no say As to what happens to us, that's decided by others How I long to hear the sweet voice of my dear mother But in this land, I must become a man, Whatever the obstacle I must stand Bound in chains, but free in my mind Knowing freedom for my people will come in time But now it the time to assimilate all I can To learn how to do things like the white man For they don't know but they have given us the vehicle to move ahead To use their knowledge to our advantage, they soon will have much to dread For we shall attain greatness, through inventions, sports, artistic talents & financial gain We shall rise to the occasion, we shall never be the same. For the fight is not physical, but in one’s mind Remember who you are and you will never be left behind. Lamont Bishop (c) email@example.com
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