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Debates seem civil, But when there is politics, People scream, "Me, me!"
 Hurt and abusedLost and confusedFeeling accused, just by being you.The color of your skin does not define youThe length of your dreads does not disguise you. The way that you walk does not deprive youBut the way that your heart is will arise you.
I am a Nappy headed woman, I love my naps...I love my curls...I love my dreads.. I refuse to let anyone put chemicals in my head...
Bold Dark presenceWreaks its havocAmongst the people,Poison’d human Morality,Degraded by Brutality,Guarded from Equality,Caged by harmful Mentality.
Given the opportunity to share my point of view... I wish my professor can see that i am more than just a mere name on a sheet of paper I am  more than just another body in a desk
How can you have hate For the color of my skin I've done nothing wrong Is me living life a sin I'm a person, a human Like each and every one of you I've done nothing to harm
I'm no Maya Angelou, Mark Twain, or Emerson. I don't yet know my dearest complaints, intents, or direction. I've never been hurt so bad that I've been deeply pained, I have, however, seen enough to know that we need change.
You pay women to dance, while your love is at home. Two Viking babies asking when daddy is coming home. How familiar is my name, For daddy’s the one to blame... Your ice cold look is really just a new flame.
Know, that every time you speak against me, With that dull razor cut tongue of yours, A little piece of my stored rage slithers its way into existence. Making my finger fidget uneasy, involuntary.
My favorite color is gray. Why? Gray is so boring, so neutral, so.. dead. Right? Gray is what happens when you mix the polar opposites of Black.. and White. When you mix oppression with freedom,
(poems go here) On December 1st 1955, Rosa Parks sat in the middle of a Storm, And refused to move. It was a Storm that had been covering America for decades, Raining down malice,
They said we were free From the chains and the whips, Yet this is another Kind of imprisonment. No freedom at all, To choose and to vote. My voice is not heard But rather ignored.
The cage is open But not to free me. To free me from the bonds That once held my cellmate Whom I expect now runs Far away from the hate
They wanted to call us colored But what did colored mean To a population with crops dying Radiation spewing across the sky Changes from green to dead And blue to hidden
We have been living amongst a misconception Misconceived by those who decided to create the title “Black History Month” Now I understand this title was created to celebrate historical figures
A movement defined by endurance and freedom that gives the heart motive
When people had to live with prejudice they couldn’t bear. They did what it took to make America fair. If one lost hope, another would pull them through Not only for them, but for decedents too.
FREE AT LAST! FREE AT LAST! Black America has been inspired By these words from the past But are we truly free? This question puzzles me? When our fellow brothers and sisters
Everyday, every hour, every way I turn reminds me about the days, the ways, the people who paved this path so I can walk on
I wish on broken stars... 'cause those bright ones give off too much light, too much light can be blinding and if i remember correctly becoming blind was never on my bucket list so, I settle for the dim ones instead.
Shouts in the streets again My pulse wakes from its slumber With all risings, it says "amen" Oh Lord, just let me get home to feed my kids
We're all warm bodies, put together in an artistic ways, Our skin isn't what society embodies, There were never any good ole days, Shunned by society, No love for Ebony and Ivory,
White men had the right, Just pass a test, And fill out the ballot, But African Americans and women could not, Why were we restricted?
Some say black, Some say brown. They call us monkeys, Some still slaves. They call us stupid and uneducated, But really there is some irony in that.
Every day we wait And wait, and wait Wait for our truth Our justice Our rights But they never come. Media purports them Politicians revoke them But the people never receive.
Look at all these presidents, They're all the same kind of gentlemen. Wearing their suits and ties. I wonder where are their wives. Sitting at home? Perhaps, I don't know Because they can't tag along.
Brown, yellow , black , white There just colors no need to fight We are all equal in every way So I am writing this poem because I am here to say That freedom is a gift you see
Beaten, battered and broken Through hell and back, We stay alive, The torture, the hate and lack of respect From Emmitt Till to Rosa Parks, They endured, they fought!
[We fight and we live we strive and we cry.] to live in a world so cold so brave so frightful so full. Of Color [we sigh and we hide and we hate.] to live in a world of hopes and dreams
Little do we know, A Civil Rights Movement Is happening right now. During these times, Protestors remain silent, Hiding in shadows. Paralyzed by fear Of being snatched Away from family.
Equal people, same in hand and face, but outcast quickly when not the chosen race. Die for beliefs that should self explain, that treatment you beg for, hope to gain. Scream and battle with tooth and fist,
“We shall overcome,” he said. His eyes held strength as he gripped the podium. And spoke to the crowds of mothers, brothers, sisters, fathers and sons.
I do not wear the same skin as youbut our struggles, they are similar.You see, while you are outcastfor the way you look, the color of yourouter shell; I am turned away for whom I love.
A cry arose from the crowd Then came another A sister, a brother Shouting above to be heard, be proud What is truth? What is justice? Turns are taken Voices shaken You, they, are equally us!
Together let’s play a game, A game of Checker’s with two colors, With squares both equal and same.
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