The Trading Post by Lewchie

Yes I would like to trade this pair of shoes, for a pair of Timberlands
They were my Grandfather’s marching shoes, he passed them down to me he
told me that they would help me take a stand
He said he marched in those shoes until they open the school doors to
educate the black man
He said he marched in those shoes until he had the right to vote
Democrat or Republican
He said he marched in those shoes until they had grass and mud stain
from all over America’s land
He said he marched in those shoes while being hit with bricks and
bottles because he had some demands
He said he wanted to be able to drink from any water fountain his
thrist commanded
My Grandfather sure did a lot of marching in those shoes just to prove
the black man was a man
I would not do that to my Timberlands

The Law of Diminishing Returns

One slave,crudely fashioned for the business world
prerequisite for employment
Need to survive
One more day
Yet alone
One more day
Special training will be provided
No need to apply
Your employment has just been guaranteed

Your rules of employment
evident in the fact that you exist
oftentimes without the need for intellect
Personality excluded
You now have the right to reproduce
every family member is entitled
to similar benefits
After several breaths have occurred
In effect signing their contract

After some time in our union of workers
you may gain a name
Your family will be established in society
Simply due to its affect on societies construction
Let the nameless earn their own way
Some blood stains do not wash away
but require special treatment before they
dissolve into organic structures
barely recognizable as what they ever

It is not the responsibility of management
to heal broken bodies or parts thereof
nor broken spirits therein
Be it known at the onset of employment
that your wages are negotiable tender
totally valued by your employer
according to daily market values he establishes
As produced by expected market fluctuations

In the event you may be released
from your present contractual obligations
it is agreed that 40 acres and a mule
shall be your precondition to retirement
It is your employer’s desire that you
be brought up in the fullness of your experience
and acceptable as a full citizen
Your descendants will be privy to these same
Earned benefits

Be it fully understood that one man or woman’s labor
is equal under God’s eyes
Your employer welcomes you and your offspring into
As we know it
As you soon will know it
Liberated and free to grow
Educate your young
Know the fullness of life within it’s safe confines
Breathe deep
Know you are on hallowed grounds
A privilege you may fully understand
One day,yet to come

Once an employee is fully informed
to that degree to which he is entitled
It remains the former employees
As a fully capable member of society
To indoctrinate and elucidate
possible future…….”naturalized”
Of all published and unpublished
Rules of operation
As they may pertain to newly applicable rules
which may revise previously stated rules
Referred to from this point on as “Enterprise Structures”

It is further stated as a matter of
That all incidents related to company operation
Now referred to as
“Casualties and Acts producing Casualties”
shall be the “Soul” responsibility
Of the employee
and all the heirs of the employees
Ad Infinitum or
Till Hell boils over

Weaver Woman

I weave words
like a west african market woman
selling you my vision, my mangoes, my papayas
even my coconuts.
My finished product can be held up to the sun
illuminated, made to shine.

The skins of my poems have been submerged in mud
then laid at the bottom of the baobob tree to dry
like mudcloth.
The blood of my poems can be as dry as the sahara
as wet as monsoons
as cutting as a machete in the hands of the mau mau.

I weave blood into my words:
red blood, dried blood, young blood.
An oversaturation of blood decorates my words
makes them pulse red.
My words hang from trees
like the bitterest kind of strange fruit.
My words find the peruvian revolutionaries
murdered while hogtied
and then buried in criminal secrecy.
My words were inspired by rigoberta menchu.

I roots rock reggae with my words
have them jamming to the heart beat rhythm
of the warmest music.
The fabric of my words is at its lightest
when they’re in the dancehall or the yard.
My words sweep over people
like the softest caribbean breezes.
My words will have you dreaming of blue skies
white sands and coral reefs

and while you’re dreaming
i weave black people into my words
and i am done.
My finished product can be held up to the sun
illuminated, made to shine.

© 2005 Tichaona Chinyelu


I compel you to love your country.

To draw her into your arms ever so tenderly,
To embrace her softly, dearly to your heart,
To huddle close, near together her masses,
And sense her least sustained yearning.

I compel you to love your country.

A nation that lifted the breast of humanity
Caressing it tenderly toward equality’s rapture
With gentle fingers of selfless, searing desire
Exploring over her ever toward paradise.

I compel you to love your country.

Freedom lovers damp in stiff-limbed writhing
Stumbling kisses upon red-barreled bravery,
Softly probing her robust and supple liberty,
Heed now her cries of woeful sovereignty!

I compel you to love your country.

Between her Trail of Tears and Mount Misery
She still waits upon the coupled plains of affection
Ready for our design and mastery of this worlds love
Panting heavy expectation upon her shape.

I compel you to love your country.

Perched upon the shore of Rolles Creek she waits
With Mount Pleasant in reach of her willing fingers.
With expectant sounds of closure now within her folds
She lunges forth with an expectant mouth!

I compel you to love your country.

O! Gentle sleep now beckons to her languid pink flesh
As the rogues tongue laps at her ebbing shores of joy
And beckons her let go of her valuable love’s embrace
Lunging forth behind her eager lips!

She counters not… for she is the boiling hunger we seek.

What a devoted worship we’ve had with the motherland.
Many a great poet has written their songs upon her flesh;
Their bright and shimmering waters lapping her shores
In ardent freedom’s want of hopes howling, dripping heat.

I compel you to love the world!

On this day of days let us remember her youthful glow,
Her ripe fruit of wonder, her drowsy ache of emancipation,
Her most alluring burnish upon our exploring of her skin.
(The burden of immense throbbing now falls upon her heart!)

I compel you to love the world!

America, carry your waves to all shores. Hope, not savagery,
In your goodness, not in impudent desire to control destiny.
Leave not the naked child, but your desire alone on the road.
Shelter not your intentions, but those most needful and hungry.

I compel you to love the world!

We have been witness to our dove, crippled and flailing in terror!
We’ve been onlookers to our expectations emerging fruitless.
Watching unmoved while our oily desire bleeds into the waters
And the cold white eyes of death tread progressively before us.

I compel you to love the world!

Come now, peace. Come now, warriors, lay down your guns
To witness the beauty at your hands as she lays down your sword
And with dripping red lips envelops your craving to possess her.
Do you not hear the night voices calling you with an angels whisper?

I compel you to love the world!

To open the door and step out into the bright sun, desire can wait.
Take notice of the many tender, breathing, soul-caked living.
Gaze upon the world’s most unbendable faith in humanity.
Gently touch her skin, delicately massage her furious soil.

I compel you to love the world!

Enter her sculpting space and weave a covering made of lifeless war.
Paint upon her face a gentle art made of your temples sweat.
Scribe a love song upon her back with the eagle’s most willing blood.
Erect in her a tower of light for all to see that they might weep.

I compel you to love the world!

The masses of age lie here and we should not be so ready to die
Like confused animal’s hooved in selfishness, deficient and artless.
The world is full of freedom lovers damp in stiff-limbed writhing
Stumbling kisses upon red-barreled bravery, tenderly probing liberty.

I compel you to love the world!

Amid her supple lands and majestic mountains she waits our affection,
Ready for our desire and design embracing her most ready warmth
Needing our hot hope upon her shape, wanton as wide-eyed first love.
(Heed now the world’s hot desire for freedom pulling us in.)

With hopeful whisper’s within her waters, she leans forth, expectant.
Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman

R.I.P 2546

Two Thousand Five Hundred Forty-Six
Loved Ones…

Fighting against terrorism
Fighting against weapons of mass destruction
Fighting to help the people of Iraq gain a democracy
Fighting to help the people of Iraq gain a democracy
Fighting to help the people of Iraq gain a democracy

He started out wanting Osama,
but hunted Saddam.

He said we were fighting terrorism in Afghanistan
Avenging 911,
Yet we end up changing Iraq’s political status?

Claimed Iraq had treacherous weapons…
didn’t find any.
North Korea stands on the sidelines waving red flags,
Showcasing their arms.
Loud and clear.

Two Thousand Five Hundred Forty-Six.
Loved Ones…

Said they could come home in 3 months
Said they could come home in 6 months
Said they could come home in a year
Don’t know when they’re coming home
Don’t know when they’re coming home
Don’t know when they’re coming home

Husbands and Wives pray day and night for the safe return of their other half.
Mothers bringin in babies alone cause daddy’s not home.
Kids go months missin a parent
and parents missin their day to day activities
Both havin to substitute kisses and hugs
For letters, pictures and brief phone calls…
That unfortunately sometimes come an unexpected stop.

We invade other countries over reasons unclear
Guiding individuals a world away to a freedom that most don’t embrace,
While hurricanes and floods smother our states
And sista’s and brotha’s in our back yard,
Imprisoned by nature’s fury,
Plead help for 5 hellish days and nights.

Two Thousand Five Hundred Forty-Six
Loved Ones…

They fought in a war that many don’t understand,
They fought in a war that many disagree with,
They fought in a war that has no certain outcome or ending.
Loyally sacrificing their lives on our behalf,
Sadly caught up in a catch-22.

Two Thousand Five Hundred Forty-Six
Loved Ones…
U.S. Casualties as of July 6th, 2006
Thank them,
Remember them,
Honor them.


A World Apart

Things never change!
Life is a unsolvable obstacle course, trapped inside a mind, a body and an unreasonable world.
Unimaginable pain & suffering that can only be felt by it’s own victims, but not noticed by it’s only confidants.
Collapsed voices that cant be heard, gestures that can’t be seen, and crys that can’t be understood.
Thoughts cluttered with the mirrored images of a soul that is lost in his own path, and the destruction of his unexplainable choices.
The glimmer all gone and only the black rust remains over a already tarnished being, rapidly disamating and slipping through the hands like dry sand on a windy day.
The heat to much bear, and the cold an unstoppable force that seems to be all that is comforting.
Walking on a thin line of razor blades, with only alcohol to clense the painful flesh.
The aroma of heartache overtakes the sweet smell of desire, and overpowers the innocence of life.
With heartbeats shorter and breaths gasping fiendin for relief no where in sight.
Lifeless and motionless standing in the middle of a battlefield with a war going on inside, destroying and gaining control of an unexpected infantry.
The impact of silent wounds causing chaos and havoc with outburst that leak through the pores like deadly gases and cause mental explosions simular to sonic booms.
Eyes wide shut that can only be open like Venician blinds, but closed like scars under surgical repair.
Concieving motives to break out of the wrath of an inferior society where pain is love, but love is pain and the passion for an answer cant be accomplished because it trapped in a safe yet to be discovered.
It’s a different world where everyone comes from.
No laughter, no joy, no rejoice.
Only painful realities, misguided dreams and blisters from the everlasting struggle that will continue until the hurt stops and the emotional sighs of relief eclipse the excrutiating terror of living in a world with no progress of change that is recognizable in this lifetime!


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

Letter to the President

Sincere –

Dear Mr. PRESident,

I think its funny how you use Americans as test dummies, sticking our noses in the business of other countries. You see the lives lost overseas its the same way everyday, you bumping up gas prices then maybe you should up our pay. Because I think that’s its past due for you to reconcile the truth amongst (y)our country’s people, you stand against homosexuality in the military while sending toy solders to play casualties, now which murder is legal? Now do you want war or do you want peace in the streets,give me a job or I’ll continue selling dope to make ends meet. You say that there is a war on drugs but can you stop the one that’s in our schools, because if you think an assault rifle can’t be sneaked in class then you’re a damn fool. You only come around when you need the votes for another election, I hear the people talk, drop out for your own protection. This world was not created so that you could pose our country as being a major threat, now you got men running around dancing with bombs strapped to their chest. The REVOLUTION is here and I need no man to lead me, because I read the book on SUICIDE by Huey P. Newton’s apple bump me on the head with a question to ask, but I knew the answer,”they stay behind their desk to save their own ass.” And what’s the deal, I heard that you might be cutting out income tax, we work hard as is, how about cutting Equifax. The issues aren’t hard to understand if just listen to what the people want, better pay attention before Kerry gets elected and you don’t. I’m tired of all this bullshit that YOU got stated, it sickens me to the core as if ten chickens farted. Is there, no there is a better re-solution to what’s going on, this day was prophisized leaving Jesus right and you completely wrong. Then you f**ked me up by saying that the economy is better because you, oh yeah, the unemployment rate has just went up again so thank you. The stock market is just the opposite of those statistics, some go up but mostly down, now who’s being optimistic. Just leave well enough alone then you wouldn’t be getting all these complaints left on your phone. I’m just saying what many are afraid to say so will you turn the lights on and lead a better way. Because if you can’t get this mess together here and overseas, then the people and I think its’ best you leave.

Your Biggest Fan,

p.s. Tell your people to find Bin Laden before he finds us again!