freedom’s song

ain’t no music
to be played
really
doesn’t matter
the song’s
been heard
before
with words
that
make promises
never
kept
for some reason
folks
always joined in
on
the chorus
guess
flaws are easily
concealed
when
the number
of
voices
are multiplied
but
those damn
solos
never seem
to
attract
a crowd
of
participants
it’s hard
to stand up
and
raise your voice
when
there’s
uncertainty
and
a voting audience
waiting in
judgement
to
contend with
easier
to
just wait
for
the
collective part
of
the song
the chorus
even if words
are
merely mouthed
you can’t
be proven
wrong

grasp straps and pull…

distant words
abhorring
overheard
intended
but
veiled in denial
then
an
all’s well smile
flutters before eyes
repeated gestures
of
oppressors
seen
more times
than
one can count
objective
to grease
success’ pole
before
anyone attempts
to
climb out
of
poverty’s pit
a pit
stared into
by
tormentors
from
its edge
gilded
with
promises
serrated sides
from which
despots
offer
encouraging words
and
relay
how they
arose
from the pit
but
they used
the
stairs

 

poison the well…

words carefully dropped
into a child’s mind to hate
contaminates life

 

gnarled old trees…

been
rooted
in the broken promises
of
freedom
for
over two hundred years
so
it should be of no surprise
that
we have grown
roughened
in
our views
of
the future
and
misshapen
in
our attitudes
for
hope
and
justice
in
this nation
oh
when we were young
we could
easily bend
and
not break
when
the winds
of
ignorance and hate
forced
us toward the ground
then
we would rebound
and
once again
grasp at the sky
but
now days
we refuse to bend
nor
do we have to
we have
an outside
that has grown hardened
and
an inside
having knotty memories
of
the pain
of
our lifetimes
we have
grown
and
survived
like
african mahogany

 

expedient allegiance…

they have everything
but they have nothing at all
betrayal’s reward

 

colorless future…

don’t see no rainbows
nothing but death’s cold gray sky
ain’t  pessimistic
just student of history
still waiting for that damn mule

 

movie props…

we sit motionless
while the scenery changes
and others move on
nothing has really changed for us
the illusion continues

 

course of study…

whitewashed history
pages of propaganda
taught in public schools
subjugation without chains
an embedded enslavement

 

bequeathed…

these
are
inherited tears
part
of
our estate
for
over two hundred years
of
enslavement
oh
it’s not
that
there weren’t
other items
business accounts
land
and
such
but
those were
appropriated
along with
personal dignity
in order
to justify
a false sense
of
superiority
of
primitive people
who
left to their own devices
were
unable to survive
in
a truly competitive world
so
were given
what
was ours
so
we were left
with
inherited tears
and
rage

to autumn patriots…

within the shadows
are our freedom’s graffiti
words written in blood
profane testimonials
of our hidden history