There once was a boy who lay on the Beach
If we were a better world,
He would only be sleep
His mom would be smiling
Laughing with Love
We failed this Child
The side-effects of a harsh world
Where his skin color made him worth less to our eyes
We ignored their screams
Their yells
Their cries
So a mom gathered her children,
And went to the Beach
She could not tuck them in
She could not let them sleep
They got on a raft,
Tossed and turned by the sea
And that's how little Aylan
Got to visit the Beach
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Ode to Role Models
I grew up looking up
To the boys on the Block
Everybody was a killer
We all had Glocks
Cash in the socks
Work in the boxers
Man to man, throw hands
Had to learn to be a boxer
I wasn't really tough
I was just an impostor
I had good grades
With a mother and a father
But that ain't what the hoes liked
They wanted Blood and Crip niggas who skipped school to roll dice
So, I went away for the summer
Cooked up a hustle
Came back with a pocket full of money and some muscle
It was kill or be killed
Life was a jungle
Black Lives Didn't Matter
You could get 'em for a bundle
Of some hard white
Or some good green
Throwing away our lives pissing over Martin Luther's Dream
We never dreamed because we never knew nobody with a future
Everybody worth something
Sold something
I wanted to be Nino
Money Making Mitch
Ace Boogie but not Rico
'Cause he turned into a snitch
All my role models gang banging Blood or Crip
Nobody we knew ever grew up to be shit!
So . . .
I guess we thought we wasn't shit either
Pour some out to my Role Models
If only they had been teachers . . .
To the boys on the Block
Everybody was a killer
We all had Glocks
Cash in the socks
Work in the boxers
Man to man, throw hands
Had to learn to be a boxer
I wasn't really tough
I was just an impostor
I had good grades
With a mother and a father
But that ain't what the hoes liked
They wanted Blood and Crip niggas who skipped school to roll dice
So, I went away for the summer
Cooked up a hustle
Came back with a pocket full of money and some muscle
It was kill or be killed
Life was a jungle
Black Lives Didn't Matter
You could get 'em for a bundle
Of some hard white
Or some good green
Throwing away our lives pissing over Martin Luther's Dream
We never dreamed because we never knew nobody with a future
Everybody worth something
Sold something
I wanted to be Nino
Money Making Mitch
Ace Boogie but not Rico
'Cause he turned into a snitch
All my role models gang banging Blood or Crip
Nobody we knew ever grew up to be shit!
So . . .
I guess we thought we wasn't shit either
Pour some out to my Role Models
If only they had been teachers . . .
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
I Live In Darkness
I live in Darkness
I have become comfortable here
Long ago my soul submitted to the dark recesses of my mind
And whenever the light shines
And I attempt to grasp a glimpse of Hope
The Darkness pulls me back into its choke . . .
I can't breathe
Suffocated by Despair and Desperation
Like Eric Garner on an NYC sidewalk
Snuffed out before I can taste the Rainbow
Like Trayvon in Florida
Shot down for standing up
Like Oscar Grant on that BART platform
Black Lives Matter
But what of my Black soul?
Does it matter?
Or is it just an oily stain
On the Fresh White Fabric of the American consciousness ?
Don't believe me?
Let the news tell it
Let the Preachers Preach it
And let every eye see
For themselves just what we are
We are
Born with a purpose and created by God
Made in HIS image
The Original Man
We are
Chained and Exploited
Jump high, Run fast
But don't you Read that Book
We are
Beaten, Whipped, and Chained
In the name of a Triune God
Under the Yoke like Jeremiah
Suffering like Job
Crucified but NOT buried
Never Resurrected
3 years, 3 decades
Maybe 3 centuries.
I have become comfortable here
Long ago my soul submitted to the dark recesses of my mind
And whenever the light shines
And I attempt to grasp a glimpse of Hope
The Darkness pulls me back into its choke . . .
I can't breathe
Suffocated by Despair and Desperation
Like Eric Garner on an NYC sidewalk
Snuffed out before I can taste the Rainbow
Like Trayvon in Florida
Shot down for standing up
Like Oscar Grant on that BART platform
Black Lives Matter
But what of my Black soul?
Does it matter?
Or is it just an oily stain
On the Fresh White Fabric of the American consciousness ?
Don't believe me?
Let the news tell it
Let the Preachers Preach it
And let every eye see
For themselves just what we are
We are
Born with a purpose and created by God
Made in HIS image
The Original Man
We are
Chained and Exploited
Jump high, Run fast
But don't you Read that Book
We are
Beaten, Whipped, and Chained
In the name of a Triune God
Under the Yoke like Jeremiah
Suffering like Job
Crucified but NOT buried
Never Resurrected
3 years, 3 decades
Maybe 3 centuries.
Monday, December 29, 2014
Strength
She is Broken
Like jewels shattered into pieces
Not as sweet as Reese's Pieces
More bitter than chocolate that's 100% pure
Potent is a great descriptor
As I shower in her wisdom
Untold stories
That are nightmares turned to life
A sharp pain in the night
As you step on broken pieces
Trying to pick up all the pieces
To put pieces back again
But it forms a different picture
Not the same
And not too different
Like a mistranslated scripture
That's its own type of sin
Cracks can be refilled
But the fractures can't be mended
But we can always be rebuilt
So if she falls I'll build again
But I'd rather not rebuild
So I'll try not to drop the ball
And to minimize her falls
With a stable resting place
Yet I am haunted by my conscience
And the simple fact that I
Cannot be there to catch her
When she falls every time.
Perspective on the Poem:
I wrote this poem during one of my hardest weeks at the prison. One of my favorite ladies there attempted suicide. It taught me a very valuable lesson than anyone who works in ministry should learn, people are not objects and you can't fix them. This incident really broke my heart. I held in my emotions as best I could all day and when I got home that night, I broke down and cried like a baby. Only after a heart to heart with my coworker did I come to truly realize that the amount of love and effort you put into a person is not the only determining factor in their lives and sometimes, sadly, you are not enough.
Like jewels shattered into pieces
Not as sweet as Reese's Pieces
More bitter than chocolate that's 100% pure
Potent is a great descriptor
As I shower in her wisdom
Untold stories
That are nightmares turned to life
A sharp pain in the night
As you step on broken pieces
Trying to pick up all the pieces
To put pieces back again
But it forms a different picture
Not the same
And not too different
Like a mistranslated scripture
That's its own type of sin
Cracks can be refilled
But the fractures can't be mended
But we can always be rebuilt
So if she falls I'll build again
But I'd rather not rebuild
So I'll try not to drop the ball
And to minimize her falls
With a stable resting place
Yet I am haunted by my conscience
And the simple fact that I
Cannot be there to catch her
When she falls every time.
Perspective on the Poem:
I wrote this poem during one of my hardest weeks at the prison. One of my favorite ladies there attempted suicide. It taught me a very valuable lesson than anyone who works in ministry should learn, people are not objects and you can't fix them. This incident really broke my heart. I held in my emotions as best I could all day and when I got home that night, I broke down and cried like a baby. Only after a heart to heart with my coworker did I come to truly realize that the amount of love and effort you put into a person is not the only determining factor in their lives and sometimes, sadly, you are not enough.
Hush! He's calling
Hush! Hush!
Somebody's calling my name . . .
Not a hymn she's singing
But an urge she's feeling
Forever whispering to her soul
Brain chemistry altered
Shaking sins with her son
Deadlier than the Seven
Slippery like the Serpent
Reaching out from the Dark
Grasping on to her, tightening its grip
Recovery is like walking up a mountain
On eggshells
With a monkey on her back
Slippery Slope on a conveyor belt
Possibly impossible . . . BUT
FOR I KNOW THE PLANS I HAVE FOR YOU SAITH THE LORD
HIS PLAN can crush those mountains
HIS PLAN can loosen that grip
HIS PLAN can overcome chemistry
HE CAN smash the Serpent's head
Hush! Hush! Somebody's calling your name.
Perspective on the Poem:
I wrote this after talking to a prisoner about her crack addiction. The prison gave her no type of program, residency,or rehab. They are just going to let her back on the street, with no new knowledge of how to battle her addiction and not land herself back in Prison. We are setting people up for failure and it is heart breaking.
Somebody's calling my name . . .
Not a hymn she's singing
But an urge she's feeling
Forever whispering to her soul
Brain chemistry altered
Shaking sins with her son
Deadlier than the Seven
Slippery like the Serpent
Reaching out from the Dark
Grasping on to her, tightening its grip
Recovery is like walking up a mountain
On eggshells
With a monkey on her back
Slippery Slope on a conveyor belt
Possibly impossible . . . BUT
FOR I KNOW THE PLANS I HAVE FOR YOU SAITH THE LORD
HIS PLAN can crush those mountains
HIS PLAN can loosen that grip
HIS PLAN can overcome chemistry
HE CAN smash the Serpent's head
Hush! Hush! Somebody's calling your name.
Perspective on the Poem:
I wrote this after talking to a prisoner about her crack addiction. The prison gave her no type of program, residency,or rehab. They are just going to let her back on the street, with no new knowledge of how to battle her addiction and not land herself back in Prison. We are setting people up for failure and it is heart breaking.
The System
Justice has compassion
But not our Justice System
Prison for Profit
Turns citizens to victims
Hand of one, Hand of all
Unconscious criminal acts
Some did it
Some didn't
Some were caught in a trap
Like pigs in a pen
They eat slop on a plate
No love, No kindness
The only power's in Hate
America the Beautiful
Broken stones beneath it
Crumbling standard of Justice
Or is it really Just Us?
Perspective on the Poem:
This poem explore the vagueness and gray areas of our laws and the barely humane conditions of our prisons.
Flip The Switch
Flip the switch
Snuff a life
Succumb to darkness
Put out the light
What is a life worth?
In this shattered system
Not much,
If within these walls
We bring death inward
Eye for an Eye
Leaves us blind in love
Young in Faith
No teeth to chew scripture
No minds to see straight
If God loves us all
Can we take that from another?
Life is more than their crimes
We've all made unpleasant choices
So what's the going rate
For a mistake or two or three?
Loss of life is worth LIFE
Do you see the irony?
Life is worth life
Death can equal death
Redemption equals nothing
That part is for yourself
But in the bare truth of life
In her certain circumstances
Her life is almost up
She is at her last standing
Flip the switch
Snuff a life
What is a life worth?
Well in OUR Justice System
They don't ransom it for much.
Perspective on the Poem:
I wrote this after hearing from my supervisor about a women on Death Row, who has exhausted all her legal procedures and now awaits death. It jarred me, because after working in the Prison system, you start to see the cracks. It begs the question: Do we ever really know certainly enough of someones innocence or guilt, that we can justifiably take their life away? And if we execute people, are we short changing GOD of His opportunity to save them?
Snuff a life
Succumb to darkness
Put out the light
What is a life worth?
In this shattered system
Not much,
If within these walls
We bring death inward
Eye for an Eye
Leaves us blind in love
Young in Faith
No teeth to chew scripture
No minds to see straight
If God loves us all
Can we take that from another?
Life is more than their crimes
We've all made unpleasant choices
So what's the going rate
For a mistake or two or three?
Loss of life is worth LIFE
Do you see the irony?
Life is worth life
Death can equal death
Redemption equals nothing
That part is for yourself
But in the bare truth of life
In her certain circumstances
Her life is almost up
She is at her last standing
Flip the switch
Snuff a life
What is a life worth?
Well in OUR Justice System
They don't ransom it for much.
Perspective on the Poem:
I wrote this after hearing from my supervisor about a women on Death Row, who has exhausted all her legal procedures and now awaits death. It jarred me, because after working in the Prison system, you start to see the cracks. It begs the question: Do we ever really know certainly enough of someones innocence or guilt, that we can justifiably take their life away? And if we execute people, are we short changing GOD of His opportunity to save them?
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