Poems from Brianna A. Ward
I sometimes wonder if the greats of this country perceived it to be as great as this country would lead us to believe
I wonder if Langston...
I should not go to sleep to news vans on my front lawn.
Bright lights and huge satellites have no place in my neighborhood
I live in a...
I spit this truth like
Old money in new hands
Like open wombs with stillborns
Like mouths agape and forgotten memories
I spit this truth...
I am nigga....watch me bleed
The concrete of a cold street is the only resting place I'll ever know
You see, at nighttime, even my blood...
You do not have the honor of speaking my name out loud unless your vocal cords can climb up my body, wrap around my throat, and squeeze me...