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poems of the week

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In the beginning, the white man sailed to Africa 
in search of goods to sell in his land. 

He found a dark colored being, but forgot to 
call him man. 

He took him to his home, bound and shackled him so 
he could not roam. 

He stripped him of his pride, for his family this 
dark being cried. 

500 years later, can we say that slavery has died?

Now the black man is alive, still struggling to 

Still playing the master's game, only this time a
slave to cocaine. 

Will he win this fight, live to see the light?

Or die a dark colored being, never again to be seen?

Eryn M. Hewitt (c) (10 years old)


Happy Birthday — Martin Luther King


Just thought you should know that we haven’t forgotten about you or what 
you stood for.  But we have gotten a little bit confused since you’ve 
been gone.  Somehow, I think the people thought a sit-in meant that you 
were supposed to sit down and wait for your prayers to be answered.  
They took equal opportunity and gave it a new name, something to do with 
diversity.  Really wish you were here ’cause maybe you could figure this 
thing out.

Martin you would have really been proud because the people really liked 
your non-violent protest movement.  I mean, women used it, to get their 
white husbands to hire them and let them go out of the house.  Gays used 
it to not only come out of the closet, but to declare and pass legislation 
saying, “we’re queen and we’re here…” Oh, and black people — again, we 
got a little mixed up — we got the violence part ‘down’ though.  We can 
kill ourselves better and faster than anybody else.  Now was that part 
about “Non?”

And Job opportunities, oh well, we couldn’t quite ‘tune in’ on that 
one.  So rather than waste our time we just don’t have jobs anymore.  
That solved it.  Companies have something called “affirmative action” 
where they go out and collect employment applications and they go back 
and count how many they have collected.  Of course, nobody gets hired 
but they are practicing how to be fair in case we ever decide we want 
to go back and get jobs again.

A Myth/Saga/Legend of Mankind — MLK (or Men Like Kings?)

Dear Doctor King:

In the 90’s you would have had been a Doctor &a King, to heal the 
sickness and rule over the lawlessness. For Martin your old adversary 
never left us.  You know who I’m talkin’ ‘bout: “Jim Crow.”  His son is 
alive and doing very well -- thank you!  Mr. James E. Crow III.  You see, 
James E., realized that there is a PRO and a CON to everything.  This 
enabled him to bring the politics of racial hatred to its logical 

~ Hi-Tech Genocide ~

He understood that in life you are either for or against.  You are 
either part of the problem or part of the solution.  And that half of 
the solution is how you look at “the problem.”  Armed with this he could 
turn the problem into a solution by turning it against itself.  Simply 
by turning pro/tests into con/tests -- game shows, talk shows and you 
wouldn’t believe it Martin, “American Gladiators” which the President of 
the United States said was one of his favorite television programs. It 
was a con of cunning designed to co-op those who were uncooperative.

He turned us from inte/gration to intra/gration a body that stays 
to itself; grows and sustains itself by imbibing from without a menticide
from within … he turned pro/creation into con/traception.  We went from 
being Beasts of Burden  to becoming Beasts of Barren.  Infertility can 
come in a bottle, a can, a pretty labeled box, an injection, a compact 
or a pill.  We ate it, we wore it, we adored it.  We shot it and then we 
got it:

~ H.I.V.~

Then he took Pro/Life and turned it into Con/Dom … dumb, dumb … dumb 
motherf - - kers.
He turned pro/fession into con/fession.  We could no longer profess who 
we are.  We could only plead guilty; confess our sins; confess to the
Crime — plea bargain or cop a plea.  But the real crime was against 

He took  the Brothers among us that were pro/found and made them 
con/founded — “Our-Black-Men-Fire-Lords-of-the-Future,” that were once 
pro/fuse in our neighborhood and turned them into the con/fused in our 
“hoods”.  The so-called Pro/mised Land has now become Con/vict Land with 
one out of every four Brothers in court, in jail or in custody and Out 
of LUCK!

Like I said, “Happy Birthday, Martin!”

Saleem Abdal-Khaaliq (c)


We were captured in the innerlands
And taken to the edge of the sea;
With chains around Our ankles and necks
We traveled from point A to point B.
With all roads leading to the west, We 
Journeyed towards the white man's destiny.
We Can No Longer Hold Our Peace!

Packed in the holes of ships and made 
Lower than beasts, We were headed to
Anchor in the west.  Sailing across the 
Atlantic and suffering at sea, some of Us
Made it, and some of Us jumped ship, but 
Billions of Us didn't make it.
We Can No Longer Hold Our Peace!

Stolen from Afrika Our Motherland, the 
White man had to continue his evil plan.
He stripped Our Names from Our Spirits,
Ripped Our Culture from Our Souls, and
Drained Our-Story from Our Veins.  They
Then destroyed Our Black Family taking 
Away Our Afrikan Nationality.
We Can No Longer Hold Our Peace!

They worked Us so hard from can't see                                        
In the Morning to can't see at night,
Slowly chipping away at the bond between
My Brother and Me.  We ran like hell to 
Escape from hell, but everywhere We went
We ended up in the same old hell.
We Can No Longer Hold Our Peace!

The emancipation proclamation was 
Supposedly written for Us, but it was
Only a lie, just a political strategy.
We have fought in every war throughout 
America's history and what the hell have 
They done for Us But kept Us in mental
Slavery; what the hell have they done for 
Us but set their dogs on Us; what the hell
Have they done for Us but assassinate Martin
And Malcolm; what the hell have they done 
For Us but turned Brothers against Brothers
And Sisters against sisters...; what the hell 
Have they done for Us but continue to 
Miseducate Us; what the hell have they done 
For Us?
We Can No Longer Hold Our Peace! 

David L. Weeks (c)                                                                   


What mightiness composed greatness divine?
Is it of His of is it of Mind?
Who sits and rules over the world below?
Is it the Lord of Lords or does My Mind say so?
At whose command does the sea stand by?
Is it The Son of Man, or do they wait for My cry?
Who holds the key that unlocks the sun?
Is it His grace or My will be done?
What command authorizes a change in season?
Is it His Glory, or is it My Reason?

Could I have created and imagined so well,
With thought separated Heaven from Hell?
Could it be me that created history from 
Moses to Martin, my grandmother to me?
Could it be My Breath moves the clouds?
Is thunder my voice resounding aloud?
Could I have contrived a world so well,
Moses from Martin, Heaven from Hell,
Mountain from valley, mother and child,
Day from night civilized from wild?

In my Splendor did I create the Great Jehovah?
If I die before I wake from this dream would the world be over?
Could it be my ego has gotten out of place?
Could it be I'm blasphemy, fallen from grace?
Jerod D. Frazier (c)

a millennium protest chant

"What do we want?"


"When do we want it?"


[somehow, i don't think martin and malcolm
 quite had this in mind]

Rose "bambam" Cooper (c)

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