This is a Test by tshmcmillon@yahoo.com

My revolution shall not be televised
nor my religous beliefs compromised
by your judicial system
my tears shall not be close captioned
as you wait for my reaction
just so you can judge me
my lifestyle will not be pre-empted
by your attempts
to disguise your intentions
with my best interest
imposing your morality on my shortcomings
I shall not broadcast my fear
on your local network station
advertising my frustration
for the sake of emotional compensation
with which you are giving
only so you can go and spread my news
I will do you one better
this is my commercial letter
of what will be
no regulations imposed by the FCC
can tempt me
I shall not proceed w/ caution
because your feelings are offended
your guilt tormented
by my sixty seconds of fame
please remain seated
feeling defeated
as you stay tuned to another reality show series
starring me
as we are live and as I learn
Life is only a test.

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
Warning
Some blood stains do not wash away
but require special treatment before they
dissolve into organic structures
barely recognizable as what they ever
Were

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
Society
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

Warning
Once an employee is fully informed
to that degree to which he is entitled
It remains the former employees
Responsibility
As a fully capable member of society
To indoctrinate and elucidate
possible future…….”naturalized”
Employees
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
Confederation
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

The Unpoem

For Those Who Love Poetry Unconditionally

A poem is not perfect.
It doesn’t have to be molded
Into shapes or sizes
Or themes.

It doesn’t have to be cheerful or humorous,
Sad or serious.
No big words are needed,
And footnotes are not required.

It can be an interpretation for the world to understand,
Or speak a special language just for you.
Share it with everyone,
Or keep it privately in a safe place.

A poem doesn’t have to be written or spoken.
It can be as simple as a thought,
Or as complex as an interrupted dream.
Whatever the poem is or isn’t to the world,
Let it mean something to you.

*SLB*

Untitled

Exaggerated claims of things to be ashamed
Just to follow the crowd, instead of speaking the truth aloud
To want to feel accepted in this world is just expected
Of me, you, and everyone whose flaws and faults weigh a ton.

Low self-esteem is really a common thing
Although people these days try to act unfazed
Deep down inside always trying to hide
Their true feelings and pains, which never get them any gains

Thats why I say without a doubt, we should shout it out
Let the world know who we really are even if we arent up to par
With the expectations of our current generations
Because nine times out of ten these are the feelings of many other men.

Juaneka Gore…Poetic_Soul

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

Message

My sistas, my sistas, where do we stand?

Do we stand by the grave
Of the love that has passed away
As you hope and pray
That one day he will again see your face

Or do we stand by the man
Whose hateful hands
Has caused the pain the he himself once began
And while he’s out fuckin’ some girl named Ann
From your face the blood has ran

Tell me, do we stand on the street
Passing out your treasures like lunch meat
Steady trying to get on your feet
But on the bed he holds you down like concrete
Trying to rise but you’re in too deep

Or do we stand in the local club
Dressed like some video hoe trying to impress some wannabe thug
Loosing your dignity just to gain a dub
As he deprives you of respect and you mistake it for love

Or do we stand in front of the mirror sucking in all you are worth
Crying cause on the outside you don’t look like her
Not realizing that true beauty is an eternal gift that is given at birth
And can’t be molded or shaped like the women in Glamour

Or my sistas will you stand and shout with all your might
To stop the wrong and try to get the shit right
Because if we go on at this rate destruction is in sight
And I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t sent here to destroy, I’m here to fight

So my sistas, my sistas, I will ask you again, where do we stand?

My brothas, my brothas, when will you step in?

Will you step in when the baby you once knew as your own
Is lying there on the corner all alone
With one fatal bullet through his dome
Cause you were never there at home
To give him guidance but now he’s gone

Or will you step in when all the parties have died down
And all the cryst’al and Bentleys are no longer found
And all the girls around town
Won’t speak a sound
Because you’re nothing but a bum now

Tell me, will you step in when death comes knocking at your door
Because of some set you’ve claimed before
But your homies aint there any more
And you’ve lost your last war
As you lay dying there on the floor

Or will you step into that lonely jail cell
Because of the deadly temper you’ve thrust upon the woman in the wedding veil
And it’s easy to tell
You’ve lost your freedom as you walk down the gates of hell
And as your children sit watchin you realize your attempt to become a man has failed

Or will you step into that hospital room
As your body disintegrates into that fatal doom
And the Grim Ripper moves closer whistling his famous tune
Because you’ve been careless with your body, there aint nobody else to blame but you
As the disease known as AIDS has taken over and your final hour approaches too soon

Or my brothas will you step in when the fate of the black man
Has been reduced to the battles fought across East and West coast land
And the accomplishments of the Million Man March is now on the second hand
Because before you can strive for a better place for you to stand
You gotta continue to fight over who was behind the deaths of 2pac and Biggie over and over and over again

So listen up because I don’t think you quite comprehend that in order to protect our future, my brothas, now is the time for you to step in

Eyes Of A Tiger

Fierce Attitude and A warm repeated beat
A Sharp mind with a Judge and Grand Jury
Prowls the Plains with the Sight of a King
The Eyes that cannot be interpretted by
a Scientist, Hunter, or Anything

Actions and Intentions Understood Only
By its mind so complex
Known To The World as a Wild Creature
But Never Acknowlegded as an Animal
with a Focus

Do not Underestimate the Silence,
The Cuddling Acts, and Peaceful Soul
Intrude on its Territory, Once It
sees You, It turns Into a battle

Look into its face, you dare
and it Will Sense Fear Like A Sound to the Ear.

Even A Hunter Looking For It With Eyes Of Fire
Does Not Realize He Is Not Only Being
Watched But Hunted By The Eyes Of A Tiger

Vanelle
Copyright © 2009-2011

LISTEN FLY AND RISE

by – Big Jay – artisticsongs

fly nigga fly, rise nigga rise!
get u’r feet up out the concrete
and claim u’r territory
rise nigga rise!
stop oppressing u’r selves
stop being slaves
2 the idea of thug ways
fly nigga fly!
let u’r spirit be no longer broken
lift u’r heads up HIGH
rise nigga rise!
hear the call of the Most High
attain wisdom at all cost and
fly nigga fly!
we r kings our wives queens
so let’s treat them as such
rise nigga rise!
stop robbing u’r selves of pride
it’s u’r god given right
for black 2 be beautiful
so make it so
u r ordain 2
fly nigga fly!
they say the revolution
shall not be televised
and when it occurs
darkness will be transformed n 2 light
but only if u
rise nigga rise!
the mountains await u’r voice
2 bring about life
and rivers 4 u 2 speak a new course so
fly nigga fly!
let us take the world by storm
we’ve been shun 4 2 long
let us hit the polls
elect a black man, no black woman as
President
thus killing 2 birds with 1 stone
let’s make our enemies eat their stereotypes
4 that we shall no longer abide by
rise nigga rise!
this our time
the revolution shall not be televised
4 it beings within
RIGHT NOW!
fly nigga fly, rise nigga rise!