Sitting here thinking
About these ghetto youths.
All the struggles they face.
All their dirty boots.
Its time they stop,
Rod and kill, and shoot
But it’s the struggles of life
Which forces them to loot.
Could we but educate our sons,
And feed them truth.
What do you see when?
You are looking into these mother’s eyes.
And watch her son bleed out,
And hear her woeful cries.
And as his blood runs cold,
Here comes the wretched flies.
Remember Timbuktu?
And the pyramids
Diamond, Onyx and Gold
In all our villages.
We had great books of old
Knowledge unlimited.
Spiritual phenomenon unfold,
From kabalistic scrolls.
Black men rise up!
You who once walked on water.
You who told the meaning
To pharaoh’s dreams.
From your lineage came
The Shepard who killed goliath.
Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians.
We are all that and more.
We have been slaves
We have been slavers.
We have been gods.
We have been godless.
But most of all we have been
So why are we now?
Oppressed, suppressed, repressed?
Being marginalized yet idolized?
About the Creator
Stieve Fernandez
Hello am a 36 year old Jamaican national three years into my journey of creative writing
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My needs
I need a lover, Who, Thinks its ok to cry. A lover Who Chastises, but understands the reasons why. Who Forgives me, even love the way I lie. I need a lover Who, Consoles me, frustrated! She lets out a sigh! A lover, Who, Would be devastated! If ever I should die Who, Enjoys picnics, laughing hard, under sunny skies. I need a lover Who Denies me not as the cock crows thrice A lover Who Stays! Despite what’s rolled on the dice Who says I do! Then laughs as we are showered with rice I need a lover Who Picks me up when I’m feeling down A lover who Asks me for a song, ‘cause she likes the sound. Who Kisses me softly before laying down.
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Poets
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