You Don’t Speak For Me

Enough! You don’t speak for me!
Vulgar and disrespectful Rap
does not make up enough
of a cross-section
to represent
the African-American demographic.
One small, albeit loud, percentage
of rap holding woman in low regard;
referring to other African-Americans as niggers;
while vocalizing little if any respect for others
and their property.
Enough! You don’t speak for me!

How dare you fix your lips to say
“nigger” isn’t disrespectful
as long as a Black man says it;
Hiding behind “freedom of expression;”
no less than the slave tyrants
who formed this nation
under less than equal opportunities.
How could you speak for me?
You’re to ignorant too even know your a plant!
Who do you really represent?
Surely not the Sojourner Truth’s!
Surely not the Benjamin Banneker’s!
Surely not the Martin Luther King’s and Malcolm X’s
who had more respect holding up a middle finger
than you do in your entire monologue.
Surely not the Andrew Beard’s
and George Washington Carver’s
without which the American Industrial Revolution would not have come
and most of us would have starved!

Were the trials and tribulations of our people lost to you?
Did you miss that piece of history
where people fought and died so you and I could share
water fountains and bus seats?!
Or are you so unappreciative and ignorant to think
you earned your “bling, bling” on your own?!
Silly rabbit, tricks are for kids
and you have proven you never grew up
and will probably die 200 pounds foolish
and 60 years mentally enslaved
because that freedom you think is dressed in all that money
ain’t nothin’ but a bigger cage
and you never even left the plantation!

© 2007 John M. Swails

Empowered

My wife speaks life to me
and pardon me while I elaborate
but I don’t think you understand
see, she speaks life to me!

In the midst of situations
holding little or no hope of
a positive outcome;
situations where many would give up,
some deeper perseverance rises
empowering a tired spirit and weak flesh
to breathe and press and be,
because,
my wife speaks life to me.

Not just words of encouragement
sent from someone with little confidence
but from deep inside where
spiritual power resides,
she feeds my soul,
helping me to regain control
of my situation;
allowing the GOD given victory
to fall down upon my location –
the kind of victory that only
dwells with the perseverant and faithful
and all of this
in me exists because
my wife, speaks life to me.
________________________________

By John M. Swails 2006

Paper Place

by John M Swails

I’m tired of
rubber opinions and
plastic personalities
bouncing and shaping to the latest
popularity poll;
souls sold to
the most “happening” bidder,
while those who didn’t sell
are setup as “sell outs”
and clout buys all the self-esteem
you can afford
to hide your greed
and insecurity behind.

Come one, come all;
don’t miss the next ship of opportunity,
leaving from the dock of denial
enroute to the land of no integrity.
But fear not,
political power drinks will be provided
to lull you into forgetfulness
while a jury of new found friends
help you reconstruct
your convictions:

One Jones,
two Jones,
all Jones,
with no thrones,
but there will be no complaints
because no thoughts are allowed,
and all opinions will be
delegated to you,
by a member of
the “in crowd” cabinet.
All habits
shall be broken and reset
according to the doctrine of society,
but study quickly
as it changes without warning
and you don’t want the morning
to catch you uninformed.

So tell me…
are you happy
yet?

© 2006 John M. Swails.
All Rights Reserved.

Pre-Requiem

by John M Swails

There’s a slow sort of dieing going on
like when a dog stops drinking available water
or doing any of the many things he or she aught to do
to maintain;
almost as if the brain has decided to dismiss life,
and suicide is unconsciously entertained
like a shortcut to a quick reward.
No.. not as blunt or obvious
but the end result remains the same.

Too many brothers, fathers, sisters, and mothers,
have given up the right to think
in exchange for the comfort
of a financial plantation,
submitting to the gospel of the media’s dogma
and offering up their rights…
three by two by one
till none think for themselves
and the fences’ boundaries
slowly close in.

But they… no, we, are numb to this
blinded by artificial success;
we fail to recognize our dependency.
And with voices successfully squelched,
we are led to the slaughter –
incarcerated son…
raped and devalued daughter.
Fathers first to be removed with the art of
deception, depression and greed,
leaving mothers to depend on others for their needs,
and government offerings hide secret agendas
but having invited the viper in
her guard is easily subdued and removed,
leaving her offspring
as easy prey for their venom.

This poison begins in main stream education,
removing any indication
that Black culture’s contributions towards society exist.
Inventions reassigned
or just as easily dismissed,
removing pride of ancestry
to be replaced by low self-esteem
and bleak prospects for any piece
of the “American Dream,”
seeds killed
before plants ever get a chance to form.
Dreams shattered
almost before they’re ever born.
And with no past to stand on,
what does one’s future hold?
And with no one to guide them
when will the truth be told?

There’s a slow sort of dieing going on
like when a dog stops drinking available water
or doing any of the many things he or she aught to do
to maintain,
almost as if the brain has decided to dismiss life,
but the saddest part of all is
the antidote of truth
has been here
all the time.

© 2004 John M. Swails.
All Rights Reserved