first and still i am a negro

first I was negro stolen from the land of my people  thrown

from my throne like animals forced into a cot - tin field in the land where 

I was no longer part of the African people but a slave with  a lie as name

watching my people slain beat and rape my father and brothers beat

by the whip of bull of the hand of a master

so cruel he swam in my pool of the blood of my young ones

my mother and me raped stripped of the thing that make us women unique

our virginity and they raped our brain it can be done you say

I disagree they deprived of a god given right to write and read  instead they wrote words

like obey you master in the blood of me  some might say

we come along way freedom we gained in a war that was anything but civil 

but that something we gained is nothing cause something like freedom is equal and

that is still not given to us so that truth that we hear is our freedom tree ringing bear

unlike the tree from which my people swing  high and low as they

fill the breath of life growing  slow

they hanged my people from trees tree's from which my people hanged like food

for the barracudas who to our women in the dead of night were more like angels

 

than the devilish demon that violated our women and like breath of the angel of death

  time has passed  and the question has been asked are we still slaves

do we have freedom at last as martin the Dr. king once said well to answer that

ask the moms  of the young black killed on the street who are too old for their wombs

to create meat is there still hope in their for the son to awake and ask Travon

if he thinks the hoodie is to blame well now I leave to ponder

I rest my lips from these words I speak do you wonder if this writer is black

should matter if I am if you think yes then the revelation is obvious in your eyes slave

and I have much to claim shah now hear death hasty breath now I lay my soul to rest

waiting for god 's not white man

judgement whether with a badge cause the only authority is the one

who carries the word in his hand

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 

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