Search Thoroughly
What if African American's became the majority?
Imagine an America (if you can) where the majority is Black.
It is a place where whites, browns, yellows, and reds exist.
The children of slaves will never lack.
And cooperation will be in the midst.
Economics, education, science, and ideas would reign.
Amongst the darker flesh the days would be for glory.
And all the other colors would not be a bane.
They would instead recount the past that is so gory.
Every person would be like drops from the sun.
They would illumine the Blacks and add to their wit.
The majority will know how the government ought to be run.
And every child’s memory would remain fit.
If Blacks achieved majority status in the United States,
They each would alter extremely their individual fates.
About the Creator
Skyler Saunders
I will be publishing a story every Tuesday. Make sure you read the exclusive content each week to further understand the stories.
In order to read these exclusive stories, become a paid subscriber of mine today! Thanks….
S.S.
Keep reading
More stories from Skyler Saunders and writers in Poets and other communities.
Smartystan
The gleam from the streets of Smartystan sparked the brain. Platinum and diamond streets always seemed to drive thought in the city-state-nation. It meant that vehicles could rove over the avenues and boulevards with ease and become not a distraction but a reminder of how clean and well-kept even the alleyways and back lots had been.
By Skyler SaundersExclusive • 3 days ago
1:49am
4/16/25 1:49am I want to breathe death in my larynx and feel loose change in the torn and raggedy pockets of my mother’s cardigan. The water is next to the bed. It’s not cold and never will be. So I guess what’s left is us; we will walk with crooked feet on a path carved by ancient societies. You will borrow my shoes. I will taste vengeance in my tea and convince myself it’s good for my liver. Coffee is fine too. Yes, that’s all. I will think about how I want to kiss you and, the clouds, they will rise to space, and leaves, they will glue their limbs back together. The sun has been out for weeks. This screw isn’t any looser than when I bought it. But I will wake up and I will be in the ship that splits in two and slide my sullen palms across its tundric pillow. I never took swimming lessons so whatever happens is meant to be. I’m sorry if that upsets you. I’m sorry I said that. Anyway, I want to lie nude in wildflowers with ants who build colonies and worms who can’t see. You have a problem with textures. You can’t help it. I could try to tell you things, like how I want my children to understand how little everything is and to not be afraid of the giant fingers that grab at sewing needles in their dreams. I could say it always scared me. It’s just not right. But listen, back to it: I want to indulge in passion and binge affection. Is it a sin if it helps? I will endure the things I am given and inculcate everyone around me to do the same. Do five laps around the block before you respond, whatever helps. I will tell you I want harmony to be palpable and wheels of recognition to be locked in an imperishable gear. Refill the pot if it’s empty. What I want has nothing to do with me. Diagonal tile is cold, you know, and my hair gets crunchy after too long out there. I want this lesson to end.
By Olivia Dodge6 days ago in Poets
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.