The wind whispers
sounds of autumn
speedy on the track of life
as we watch those who stumble,
the sun sets,
I’m watching the sky turn grey,
Experiencing the lonely road of another day,
Only true comfort exist in the arms of black mothers
Another day of ghetto mattresses
piss infested wit no covers,
And when the rain pours,
we close windows and lock doors,
find shelter to avoid the quiet storm,
We run from the pain and anguish
car notes and bank statements,
Wondering when the love left.
I just have to reflect…
my love is eternal,
I’m watchin my soul fly free,
my love's black on both side most definitely
Anticipating the beauty
Inviting color into my onyx world
Holding on to dreams means for living.
Our love is meant for giving.
The condition of my environment
Is preventing my progression towards success
I have to get out.
I have to fly free from…
An environment non-conducive to the American dream,
America the beautiful has a black eye,
it festers like the sore Langston Hughes spoke of,
where's the dove of peace?
if the street rainbow has no gold at end,
just tarnished brass.
What of real love our street need?
Real justice our souls bleed?
Ancestors died fighting now they being made a mockery.
While death falls freely to the innocent,
Color blinded by desires.
Misprints of black and white.
Shades of gray unwelcomed.
Oh, such a familiar sight,
Lil black boys and girls
Experiencing a different world
Merry-Go-Rounds full of destruction
Creating hood celebrities.
Where being streets smarts
And hood savvy
Is glorified as success.
What the hell is happening?
When work shifts equal 8 hours on the corner.
A bullet wound your badge of honor.
Where is the love within all the drama.
How backwards our worlds have become.
Selfish desires keep us from unity.
Justice keeps us from living.
The easy way out keeps us from working.
We must start speaking our greatness back into existence.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The wind whispers