Here's a revolutionary act--
how about,
I'm not going to write
another damn poem
about,
or in tribute to,
or in memory of,
another young black person
gunned down
before their prime,
before their time?
I feel
I've written enough about that;
in fact,
too many
poems, songs,
essays,
and polemics
have been
exerted forth
on the subject.
And you know what?
It hasn't changed
a damn thing!
Hell,
we've passed laws
against discrimination
and police brutality,
and guess what?
You know what I'm saying!
So, no,
we don't need another poem,
another ballad,
another talking head,
or poisoned pen,
extemporizing
and
philosophizing;
expounding and
profounding
on lives lost
needlessly
and unceremoniously;
we need
intelligent,
unpretentious,
non-biased,
no agenda,
malcontents
in law enforcement
and government;
in our schools
and,
by God,
in our churches;
in our communities
and
in our boardrooms;
from the President
down to
the janitor
cleaning toilets
in some
non-descript
building,
in some non-descript
neighborhood--
to have the courage,
the intestinal fortitude
to say,
'It's been more than enough,
for far, far too long,
and damnit,
we're doing something about it;
from shoring up
and storing up
our communities,
to demilitarizing
and retraining our police;
from taking the money
that's going into the pockets
of corporate shareholders
and putting it into the pockets
of neighborhoods
that feel that nobody cares,
that nobody sees,
that their lives don't matter.
But you know what?
I've lived as long
as the Civil Rights Act
has been in existence,
and I've seen over that time,
more blood of innocents spilt;
and I've seen
the righteous forsaken;
and I've seen
promises broken;
and I've just done,
what I said at the outset,
I wasn't going to.
So,
I will lay down my pen,
close my eyes to the light,
and pray,
to a God
I hope is listening,
in spite of my doubt,
in spite of history,
past and present,
that another young black child
lies down safe tonight
and awakes
to a new day.
© 2014 Joseph Powell
how about,
I'm not going to write
another damn poem
about,
or in tribute to,
or in memory of,
another young black person
gunned down
before their prime,
before their time?
I feel
I've written enough about that;
in fact,
too many
poems, songs,
essays,
and polemics
have been
exerted forth
on the subject.
And you know what?
It hasn't changed
a damn thing!
Hell,
we've passed laws
against discrimination
and police brutality,
and guess what?
You know what I'm saying!
So, no,
we don't need another poem,
another ballad,
another talking head,
or poisoned pen,
extemporizing
and
philosophizing;
expounding and
profounding
on lives lost
needlessly
and unceremoniously;
we need
intelligent,
unpretentious,
non-biased,
no agenda,
malcontents
in law enforcement
and government;
in our schools
and,
by God,
in our churches;
in our communities
and
in our boardrooms;
from the President
down to
the janitor
cleaning toilets
in some
non-descript
building,
in some non-descript
neighborhood--
to have the courage,
the intestinal fortitude
to say,
'It's been more than enough,
for far, far too long,
and damnit,
we're doing something about it;
from shoring up
and storing up
our communities,
to demilitarizing
and retraining our police;
from taking the money
that's going into the pockets
of corporate shareholders
and putting it into the pockets
of neighborhoods
that feel that nobody cares,
that nobody sees,
that their lives don't matter.
But you know what?
I've lived as long
as the Civil Rights Act
has been in existence,
and I've seen over that time,
more blood of innocents spilt;
and I've seen
the righteous forsaken;
and I've seen
promises broken;
and I've just done,
what I said at the outset,
I wasn't going to.
So,
I will lay down my pen,
close my eyes to the light,
and pray,
to a God
I hope is listening,
in spite of my doubt,
in spite of history,
past and present,
that another young black child
lies down safe tonight
and awakes
to a new day.
© 2014 Joseph Powell
