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Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts

Sunday, July 14, 2013

Trayvon's Scream


Everyday and every night some black or brown child will slip through the cracks of this world… disappear… meet with a violent event that

stops his heart…

that steals his breath

… that ends his life.

And there will be silence.

* * * * * *

Who really screamed that rainy Florida night?

I believe it was Trayvon Martin.

I believe it was his mother.

I believe it was another faceless,

Nameless victim of America’s

Injustice.

Who really screamed that rainy Florida evening…?

I believe it was a chorus of my ancestors. It was

Emmet Till’s scream…

And Abner Louima’s

And Yusef Hawkins’…and

Michael Griffith’s…

And Michael Stewart's

And Eleanor Bumpers’

And Oscar Grant’s…and

Ramarley Graham’s…

I believe it was Trayvon Martin’s scream

Knowing

His right to a life of Liberty was

A cause too small to hear

And too meaningless to process…

His Life was just

A scream to be ignored or

Crushed

Like a beetle upon concrete.

And now. . .

Who will scream for all of them?

And who will scream for him

If not us…

If not me, a lone poet who knows nothing

About the pain or velocity of a bullet

To the chest?

All I know for sure is this:

Justice is a blind bitch that doesn’t give a shit about us.

It just continuously breaks my heart that we must live like this!

It just continuously breaks my heart that we must die like this!

The saddest reality of all is this:

Justice is a blind, cold-hearted bitch, that doesn’t

Give a shit

About us.

One.

Copyright© 2013 By L.M. Ross

All Rights Reserved without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this work may be reproduced, stored in or reintroduced in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission from the author, except brief quotes used in reviews.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Happy Natal Day, Billie



Miss Billie Holiday aka
Eleanora Fagan would be
95 years old today.

Wow! Billie, "Lady Day" who
Changed the tone and sway
Of Jazz and made it her
Own. Billie, who
Colored it Blue,
And sadder than the hang of
Strange Fruit as
She sang it soul-
Deep and authentic, too.

I wonder if she were still
Here, still breathing air, fresh
Gardenia in her hair...
Would she still be
Singing dem old
Weary blues?

Would she be lost
Somewhere between
Applause... and
Those small-minded cities,
A broken heart...
And the tears
Trapped in her
Wounded croon?

Would she still be
Changin the scope
And the mood
Of a slow and smoke-filled
Jazzing room?

Or would she be
This thrillingly new and
Smiling diva
Relinquished of
Her old demons, at last?

Would she
Had married her best friend,
Prez, settled into the burbs,
And raised a slew of
Black jazz babies?

Would she have said:
'Later for fame!' and
Grew truer to the game,
Became totally Her Self, and
Finally
Heroin-free?

Ahhhhh... Ms. Billie!
What a beautiful sight
And what a glorious sound
That Jazz song
Might
Be!



Happy Born-day to you,
Our Sweet
Lady Day!


One Love.


LMR


copyright © 2010 by L.M. Ross