Time machine

Power was not what I gained

Rather what I used

Knowledge was what I used

And also gained

POETRY was a time machine

I wrote of the anguish of a slave

To say he or she was not important

They all felt pain.

Yet held on to hope

Power surging through the words I would speak

As I was not the only one

Still, part of the memory and hope that raged on

I told not a tale

Rather a cry for a change

Because while one period of dehumanization passed

It would be reborn to take on a new form

The people shall listen

The people shall listen

Until they look back at their trail of blood

The Indians they called whose tears were left behind

And the blood they whipped

It could not lay down the pen which stood against the sword of time

 My purpose in life was reshaped

If I did not tell their story

I would be joining the ranks of those who abuse them

Again Again Again

Americans think too little of the world

Yet the world of them

Slavery exists,

Here and there and everywhere

We educate to learn

Yet a man’s greed succeeds

Man’s lust succeeds

Man’s ignorance prevails

Until the percentage cap 99

And they say sorry

 Pretending God didn’t watch what they did

What did they do?

Some documentaries and over hundreds of kids go missing

 You are different

You are different

Yet our palms, fingernails, hair, and tongue stay the same

This is what I learned!

For a moment I walked the shoes of a victim

Actually the bare feet of a victim

I learned again the world was bleak of humanity

But hope through gathered poetry and resistance remains

 

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world

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