This is a poem that I’m reciting for a poetry contest tonight so I thought that I’d share it with all of you.

Some say it’s a color and not more than that
but when living in life you know that’s not a fact,
for the meaning of black is the feelings of things
in which someone made truth out of one of their dreams.

Some say that it’s bold like it’s some type of gold
yet the world treats those people like some type of mold.

Some say that its beautiful but there’s no visual
with people of color that mostly are black
on that brainwashing tube, but they’re mostly the news,
so that saying some say is still what I refuse.

Some say that its power which still could be true
since most people will cower when they look through them
like they’re some type of beast from a tropical jungle
that never will cease until blood is their muzzle.

So if these known sayings of things are not true
then the thoughts of these people still shouldn’t be true.
But sadly my hopes for the people aren’t right
and the past full of wars was an easier fight.

I’ll explain.

People are lost from the trials of war
and their once complete life has been ended by gore,
but they are not stuck with this whole rolling of life
because since they are dead they will have no more strife.

Unless they’re in hell,
but that’s not the subject I’ll tell.

But the strife will be felt in the ones that they loved
and their sadness was shoved into all of their mind
until they will rewind all their thoughts to just say,
your ancestors fought for your freedom today.

If they have their freedom then why do they act
like some ghetto dumb kids that have always been packed
with the empty cold eyes that are waiting to cry
when they see they are different because of their pigment.

Whenever they see that they are not the same
as the ones with the fame then they soak up the rain
that drowns out their good day since they no longer play
with untainted perceptions of how they “should” play.

They’re supposed to be athletes that go to the pros
and then flaunt out how much they have such an ego,
when all that it shows is that they are still low
but this still isn’t something that they come to know.

The reason its low is because it’s a game
where they fight with each other like its only sport
until all of their muscles are burning like flame
and then watching their death is another report.

I do not hate sports I just hate that I witness
these stigmas in life that continue to shine
so that no one will look at them to think of business
and they will be back in this system of lies.

A system that strives for all races in separate
divisions of color like matching your socks,
and when they’re applying for jobs like they’re desperate;
why do they have to fill out that one box?

That one little box that will tell them their race
because they have to know if they are a big threat
on their idea of life that is full of their way;
oh, they have to make sure that their skin will fit in.

For if they have skin that they think is a sin
then the black will not grin when the job will begin
and they are not with them since they are not a friend
that they think will help mend their set goals to the end.

Because if they find out their hometown is bad
and that most of the people that live there are black
then the job they will get will not pay ‘til they’re glad
and their chance for advancement will always be whack.

Born in the promise land without the same promise.

The rage that would boil most anyone’s blood
will not ever start floods since their fight has been done
which had never begun since most people don’t see
what is troubling me as I drown in this sea; of lies.

But all of these sayings do not sound too fair,
so let me explain something others won’t dare.

When black people talk I hear mostly some slurs
that are never a verb or a phrase or a word
that would be understood by us not in the hood;
and this ignorance never is seen like it’s good.

For one of the words that they say is much bigger
than what they believe because it hurts the inner
until it burns me up like I am a sinner,
I hate when they laugh and then say the n word.

It’s just so absurd to continue the blurb
that was holding these people in terrible times
and then use them in rhymes with a catchy new tune,
I guess ignorance is something I should presume.

They wear these big clothes and still call women hoes
while people throw money like it’s a great show,
but it always is bad when the culture is mad
when these “artists” just prep to give them a bad rep.

I want to thank all of them for their praise of criminals.
I’m kidding; their lyrics cause sores and are more than subliminal.

They say they’re all gangsters when really they’re wangsters
that sold out their culture for stupid bling bling
which had iced out their teeth or their little new ring;
I wish that these kids were just drowned out old pranksters.

For they caused all these people to say the n word
to the people of color like its no big deal
but the fact of the matter is that it is wrong
because leaders like king would refuse such a thing.

These people are proving that they deserve freedom; right?

But then I still wonder if I can still blame them
for being a product of what is presented.

When thinking of people that dwell on this world,
I feel like most do something that is the same,
they listen to parents like it’s their main game,
when all of their blindness makes me want to hurl.

They go off to school when they know it’s not cool
to just listen to how this whole country was made
off the blood and the death of the blacks in the past,
and since they still teach it, it always will last.

It tells how these souls were condemned from the start
since they never were “smart” and were always so “lazy”
but vision is hazy when I hear that crazy
acceptance of hatred like it isn’t putrid.

If you wonder why I am not happy with that
it’s because it sets out that one dastardly power
that puts all the coloreds in some new attack,
which ends as the reason that these people cower.

So why do they teach it and why do they keep it?
It’s so all the people that are not that black
can still form up bands that continue to stack
up the empty dead bodies that had not a chance.

For if they decided to change up the schools
then it would make a change into something that’s cool
and the blacks wouldn’t feel like they are just some tools.
If you couldn’t guess, my kids will be home-schooled.

But I don’t have kids yet,
so thank God for that.

Although I should say that we’re all in this game
where we listen to elders like they are the welders
to melt our minds into their own rewinds
of how they built their flame so that we do the same.

They say go to college like there lies the knowledge
that helps build success ‘til you feel like you’re blessed;
but after most go they still say they don’t know
what they do want to do; but hey, they’re in school.

But they’re just in school since their parents had said
that they’d rather be dead then go watch you achieve
what it took to succeed without chasing some greed,
but most stay as their pet because that’s a safe bet.

Well it only seems safe for one type of a culture
since ancestors swarmed in like they were some vultures.

This act by that pact had helped pave them a grave
that erected a statue that still will surpass you
and bring up a flood of their happy new blood
that is roaming the Earth and still winning in worth.

So it only makes sense that their kids will be rich
and enjoy on the gold that will only unfold
for the ones with their shade since this world has been made
for their rule in the trade, so enjoy their parades.

‘Cause they really have won since their troubles are gone
and they have the nice cars that will shine over stars;
they also are free from their end by attack
’cause they have not been cursed with this color of black.

But I do not care about troubles in life
for I will end up leaving from all of your sights
to unite with my Father that you know as God;
and I do not care if you think that I’m odd.

Because I am odd I can actually see
that this world hasn’t changed but has only arranged
how the people will live since there always will be
a demented old man who’s in rule and deranged.

But I’d rather go die than go silently cry
and allow my soul’s end by just making a friend
with the failures of others like we’re all some brothers
that shout out ignorance instead of making difference.

And speaking of brothers its always annoying
when people I don’t know will start with their toying
by saying hello to the ones of light color
but when they greet me they say “hey what’s up brother?”

The last time I checked, you don’t have my mother.
So don’t disrespect her.


I will now decide that this poem should end
’cause my thoughts have now been running too much on page
and still most people think that I boil with rage
when the fact of it is that I still have a grin.

All that I wish is that this didn’t stink
and that more people would learn to stop and just think.


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