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Rated: 13+ · Other · Other · #1856949
reflections on stereotypes
I was born a human,
a man in shape and form,
yet for whatever reason,
my being draws scorn.
Am I rude, abrasive, ignorant or smug,
I guess I'm just depressed,
for my graves already been dug,
it houses my aspirations, my ideals,
all I found sublime,
they said the sky was the limit,
I learned the limit was the sky,
I am a product of decisions
that were never mine,
I was born African,
made a nigger by design.
Can you empathize with a pain for which there exists no remedy,
a hunger that can't be stimulated,
it is the will of the degraded,
pariahs of human society,
the deplorable status conferred unto me.
Yet I am told not to worry,
that's all in the past,
pointed to the stories of exemplary blacks,
names like Winfrey, Johnson and Jordan employed
to silence scrutiny of deceitful ploy.
There are black luminaries,
symbols of success,
but our people remain starving,
their illusions of progress.
Inhabiting a culture where our color is vilified,
an inescapable prison,
where the mind is not thine.
Listen astutely,
bear witness to rage,
as 4 centuries of pain bleed onto this page.
now in this era,
our generation takes stage,
reaching for the key to free us from cage.
A giant can't persist in eternal slumber,
we must establish a front with our African brothers.
it is union with they that will bring our salvation,
an end to the misery,
the ceaseless degradation.
We must employ any means to halt our debasement,
two wrongs won't make right, but it will make a statement.
A war without casualties is not war,
many have perished for freedom,
and there will be more.
They will beat, murder and rape us,
discredit us before our neighbors, mercilessly harass our families,
but those cowards won t break us.
They exiled Garvey, took Mandela's freedom,
gunned down Martin and Malcolm,
made sure no one could see them.
A drug deal took Newton,
after Hoover went PRO,
Nkrumah and Lumumba toppled, need I say more.
To ask the question is revolutionary,
as Gramsci once said,
barring alteration,
this will never be dead.
I am wary of the future, but I am certain of this,
we have much more to offer than hip-hop and fresh kicks.
Fear not of their prisons and repressive systems,
they hold no resonance,
when ones condemned to existence.
Only prompt examination will see change in organization, for if history does repeat,
our destination is the plantation.
Life is a bitch named monogamy,
you only get one,
so where shall we stand when all is said and done.
When we gaze at successors, untempered by hate,
what will we tell them, in their innocent state.
That we loaded our guns, fought back for our portion,
or we wallowed like cowards,
minds hopeless, distorted.
When one is backed against the wall, one can only push back
or will offspring suffer from our indifferent acts.
Contemplation is over, wastes potential and time,
now is our moment to bathe in sunshine, your soul yearns for freedom,
for autonomy it pines,
ignore it at your peril,
remain a nigger by design.
© Copyright 2012 Eugene Yeboah (yeboaheu at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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