Ebonics and other sounds: Another Pro-Black Poem

The pastor told me

to never complain about pain pray only,

I used to be the girl who needed to hold me

someone carry with caution, sensitive fragility

Yea she the old me

I aint the only one who loves, the God above who sent the dove God’s homie

olive branch, peace keeper,

another chance, peace seeker,

not lil chano from 79th, but I still had to be home before the street lights came on

183rd street to dolton and harvey

where food deserts leave people starving

5 mile walk til the nearest ALDIS


She is majestic, apostolic, mean collard green concocting comic,

meditated comedian,

if you are melanated you’re premium

not regular, not unleaded

She is light– green lantern

Light the night sky so very black

Black panther, no hearts,  black fits,

we don’t stand, we sit to protest the national anthem

black deaths been happening social media just act one scene one

I open my twitter feed and black death is reruns

they giving sons free guns, no person of color freedom


OH how I love America the country that illegal adopted me

who kidnapped me to labor while she leisured

meanwhile political temperature rising to a fever

Oh How I love America where skittles arizona tea, cigarettes

being black in this country is a reason for death

6 foot 7 foot 8 foot brothers in one casket

burials and home goings but justice ain’t forthcoming

wondering how we gone get past it


every resource, precious metal can be found where we settled,

indigenous, native blacks

sporadic middle passage passengers

sewing seeds germinate the pastures

assassinate the king, Dr. King the pastor

We don’t need another civil activist to no longer act captured

Rich soil, but poor people

kinks and coils moisturized by black castor oil

4C  hair products found in the ethnic aisle of products we share

meanwhile we clowning on Gabby douglass for her hair

For the culture,
A culture of violence of white supremacy and we still manage to be black

Yet see black as the enemy

A frame of mindset set in movies where the plot won’t change

potted plant, plot of land,

No Harry Potter, the master’s hands,

I’m a master piece, no magic damned

I don’t rap but you can catch me at the slam


God gave me words,

verbs love in action

not trying to make anyone else happy, just try to reach my God’s satisfaction


The very God who is the very to my good.

The utmost to my highest

Extra to my ordinary

The burden of my rhymes gets heavy but it ain’t nothing a strong black woman can’t carry


Trees like us get cut down

but the roots are still there

We say their names cause we the trees still here

and we still care


Being black makes you an economic commodity


my lack of modesty but don’t let them twist and change the prophecy and neglect or reject the prodigy

our ancestors had breast on they chest that feed a glutinous country

leaving no one hungry

and sorry not sorry if i sound angry

but i’m gone put this bluntly

We are a people of the land of milk and honey

We possess ambition and drive with no car

With no book, We possess wisdom and knowledge

and fact b: some of our ancestors couldn’t even spell college

And here we are at this university facing all this adversity with one common audacity


To grind to keep going knowing that

We are a people of the land of milk and honey

it ain’t a fable

how mama put meals on a table

with no money

We are miracle workers




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