Love Poems About Racism or Racism Love Poems

Racism love poems and/or love poems about Racism. Read, share, and enjoy these Racism love poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems.

Poem Details | by Demetrios Trifiatis |
Categories: love, peace,

WORLD DAY AGAINST RACISM









You asked me the other day, my friend, 
who I am and I replied:
I am you in another body!
Yes, it is true,  
Look, how much the same we are,
No matter what, the color
The creed
The race
The status

Look, 
I am born and I die
I suffer and I enjoy
I love and I hate, just
Like you!

I am a father, a brother, a son, 
A mother, a sister, a daughter, just   
Like you,

Happiness I seek, 
Family to raise is my wish, 
Peace to find I look for,    
Just like you

I yearn 
I abhor 

I fear
I hope

I bleed 
I heal, 
Just like you,

I believe
I doubt 

I accept
I refuse

I laugh 
I cry, 
just like you

We are alike
We are the same
We are brothers...
 
Children of a unique father
 

Tell me, 
My brother, 
My friend,
My ally,  
Why do we have to oppose,
To fight
To hurt
To destroy and
To eliminate 
One another?  

Are our seas really that narrow,
Our oceans that small,
Our lands so limited 
To contain all of us?

Or
 
Is it the case that 
Our hearts are not big enough 
And our minds not so wide-open to 
Enfold all mankind?     

Listen to me, my other self:
It is up to us to change this world 
We have inherited, with its virtues and vices,
History and culture 
Flaws and merits 
And
Try to make it 
Better
Nobler 
Kinder and more caring
By obliterating harmful beliefs, 
Demolishing injurious divisions,
Destroying detrimental distrust, 
Annihilating racism and eradicating 
The erroneous feeling of poisonous superiority 
For 
To bring the dawn of a new loving world, 
A world of acceptance 
Of respect 
Of justice 
Of equality
Of love and 
Of universal brotherhood

So as 

With peace in our hearts, liberated we would be
From past’s deleterious tribulations
That for myriads of years, 
Have kept us, fighting one another!


© Demetrios Trifiatis
     21 MARCH 2015


Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2015




NOTE! Today because of the “ World Day Against Racism” my moral duty, couldn’t let me stay away!
 
This poem of mine is an old poem of 2013 that has been edited and improved today thus it is posted now as a new poem! 

* I did this for all my friends who wish me to come backI will come back when I am ready! Thank you for your love!


Poem Details | by Honestly J.T. |
Categories: america, for her, for him, friend, friendship, growth, how i feel, international, journey, love, racism, school, social, together, truth, uplifting,

One World

Love is not a color,
No hue, neither a race.
All of our blood is the same, 
That runs deep within our veins.

If we could lift up each other,
And know that we all care.
If we help our sisters and brothers,
There's a bond that we'll share.








©2013 Honestly JT


Poem Details | by Cameron Hartley |
Categories: boyfriend, culture, cute love, humorous, love, racism, spanish,

Notes on Dating a Latino: What You Don't Learn in High School Spanish Class

OneLatino boys like Buffalo Wild WingsIt isn't clear why, but it's definitely emerging as a pattern.

TwoLatino boys are persistentWhen he asks to kiss you for the first time, say noWhy? Because you've known him for a matter of weeks and he is not your boyfriend yetDon't worry..he will continue to ask every week until you say yes.

ThreeLatino boys are really good kissers.

FourLatino boys love their familyHis cousins are best friends, so you probably already know several of themIf any of his cousins also like you, you might think this is problematicYour boyfriend will tell you that it's normal, and it's just because they're jealous, and not to worry about itYou will probably worry about it anywaySometimes it's better to let things go.

FiveLatino boys are romanticHe will tell you how he loves you in two languages and struggle to find an apt metaphor which he can pronounce in the English languageSince his English isn't perfect, he uses his hands to compensate when he speaks,  uses a tilt of his head, a shift in his voice; he says most with his eyes, when he isn't speaking at all.

SixNotice how he lights up when he smiles at you, like the sunrise..remember that the word for smile in Spanish is sonrisa.

SevenWhen he offers to teach you the meringue, say yesWhen you trip over each other's feet, laughWhen his face moves close to yours..kiss him.

EightWhen your racist father starts talking about socioeconomic classes, remind him that unlike your brother's American friends, your friends are sober(Well, more soberDo not bring up tequilaThey're not potheads, at least.) Besides, your Spanish teacher is thrilled with your miraculous improvement in spoken Spanish.

NineWhen you go bowling with him and his cousins and he whispers in your ear that people are staring at us, tell him it's just because they're jealous that I have a boyfriend that will dance with me in public.

Ten"Te amo" is a phrase that sounds prettiest when whispered.


Poem Details | by robin davis |
Categories: abuse, anti bullying, discrimination, love, racism, prejudice,

I Have Hidden Super Powers

I don't wear a cape around
My neck, breaking the speed of sound
Or capture bad guys in a web
My powers have never fled
From my heart that's where they stay
Secretly until the day
I see injustice come along
Others are treated so wrong
My super powers become stronger
When I can't take it any longer
Hearing stories of bullying
My special skills kick right in
Set loose, no holding them back
My love alert goes on attack
Not stopping for anything
It won't ease up until I bring
All this hatred to a low
I give one huge final blow
Across the land until there is
No more hate or prejudice
Until then, I'm on alert
Making sure there is no hurt
I will be here till the end
All my powers I will send
Into the hearts of those so weak
Mild mannered, shy and meek
That get pushed around each day
I'll make sure it goes away
This promise will be kept for sure
Any kind of hatred I abhor


Poem Details | by Shanity Rain |
Categories: abuse, analogy, angel, beautiful, beauty, blue, christian, color, creation, cry, dance, death, death of a friend, discrimination, dream, emotions, faith, feelings, kids, future, grief, happiness, heaven, image, imagination, inspiration, inspirational, jesus, journey, joy, kiss, life, light, love, magic, miracle, mythology, peace, racism, romance, spiritual, strength,

There is a place

There is a place you can go that is full of only love and Warmth
you will be surrounded by a light that shines from the Heavens ,
Sprinkles of Silver and Gold

This place is filled with brilliant colors of Purple , vibrant Gold, all colors.
not one Color is less significant then another ,
for every color is equal here

This place is surrounded by the beauty of different Flowers.
All flowers have significance here No one Flower is better then another
All Flowers are equal here

It is important you know , you can cry here , and should cry as often as needed
For  the tears will cleanse your Soul and give the Flowers water to grow.
No  one Tear is insignificant here , every tear has value and not one is better then another

 money holds no value ,  Where you live , what you own,  has no significance here

You will be surrounded by a beautiful light that shines from the Heavens
A shining warm light will encircle you and allow nothing to hurt you 
Hate will be shed at the door like an old jacket of no use

There is a place of beauty and  Worth.
This place will not be found on Earth
It is a place where no one person is better then another


Poem Details | by The Lonely Poet |
Categories: love, peace, racism, usa,

Together We Can

Can the Ameri-can
Love the Afri-can
Can the Afri-can
Love the Ameri-can
Can we all live together as one?
Yes! Together we can


Poem Details | by Francisco Pepino |
Categories: hurt, life, loss, lost, love, prejudice, racism,

PRIDE, AND PREJUDICE

PRIDE IS HOW IT BEGIINS:
He comes once around in my lifetime - take note,
He will turn everything upside down and on its head,
He will show you how pure it feels to make love to him,
He will give you his body and soul - no holding back, 
He will start to love you with a love you've never witnessed before,
He will throw emotions towards you with fire in his blood and fire in his emotions,
He will show you how complicated one person can be - its no simple voyage,
He will show you how a hardcore introvert lives with silence being voice to you,
He will write poems about you and leave it by your bedside table.
He will flourish as long as you are happy with him and him with you.
He will let you know you've met your match - dont come with your bullshit hey.
He will not be afraid to show you how he cries and shed tears of sadness.

PREJUDICE IS HOW IT ENDS:
A COMMON TALE IN THE WASTELANDS OF CAPE TOWN:
And now for the most important one above all, 
This is what he will swear by (cross my heart and hope to die),
HE IS NOT AFTER YOUR MONEY BUT YOUR HEART FROM START,
Everything of him, it will be yours even if yours isn't he's.
And dont be a fool like some that regret losing this/their beautiful Filipino boy,
Because you looked past what his heart's good intentions,
And if you love someone nothing else really matters...
Although naive but don't let other's advice be there sword that kills you;
Dont give in to your's and other's prejudices against this boy (its not fair),
HE IS POOR, HE IS COLOURED/MIXED RACE OR HE HASN'T GOT A GOOD EDUCATION,
Its post apartheid/1994 in Cape Town , Its ok to have a mixed race or black boyfriend.
Just be above the bigotry and nastiness (dont be afraid to chose him), 
And never let regret forever haunt you with those two words - WHAT IF?
The colour of his skin and the lack of money in his pocket - it doesn't matter,
Choose love above all and don't let that boytjie go don't be a fool, 
Racism and judgement destroys souls some never recover from it
For as you destroy people of pure hearts you invite yours to condemnation.

AND SURVIVAL THE BOY ENDURES:
Coloured/brown/mixed or black boytjie I know one day you'll find whatever you looking for, 
Your heart will gather such goodwill on your life and above all never change!
You are brave and endured enough but remember you still here and still fighting,
Your heart is still there in the same spot and it will never fade.







Poem Details | by Akua Lore Zaan |
Categories: africa, black african american, black love, desire, education, identity, inspirational, prejudice, race, racism, slavery, uplifting,

Hidden Figures

I am black and I say to kindred flames...
Never assert nor cry "things are the same".

It is the height of dishonor to our fathers,
Our hidden figures of the past, and our martyrs.

We no longer must hideNo need for underground trains.
Do not keep blaming injusticeIt's a crooked cane.

Wait for the hand of the oppressor? That is madness!
Why would the oppressed ask the slave owner for access?

Let's take it upon our lettered selves to advance.
So, do not say "things are the same"Now is our chance!

If one hidden figure can succeed, there are no excuses.
If one hidden figure has engineered, where are the nooses?

It is a disgrace to our history to assert "things are the same".
It is a dishonor to our hidden figures...a noose and a chain.


Poem Details | by Shanity Rain |
Categories: anger, bullying, childhood, evil, holocaust, mother daughter, racism, truth, world,

Southern Love Southern hate

Southern love,  Southern hate 
they are the opposite of each other 
 I have  memories of both in the State I love dearly.

Going back to a old plantation home in the South ,
as a child I played in the many Pecan trees , collecting baskets upon baskets of fresh pecans

the smell of fresh pies , of pecan and rhubarb , oh my Mom took the prize

One afternoon , School was out , it was in summer  , reminisce of fresh lemonade 
My Mother called my name 'child come in here now " in the middle of the day ' 
she many times called and I would hide in this paradise full of honeysuckle and pecans

This time the tone was one of fear , and alert , "come inside Now"
 I ran to the top of the old plantation stairs to my Mother
I saw in the distance what seemed to be a parade in the day

This time the parade was of people in "white sheets ' going door to door,
just like salesman they would knock , they would greet
my Mother said " We have no time for this here " leave now , and leave fastyours is only teachings of Discriminate

she sent them quickly away , giving back the paper , the invite 
These people dressed in funny white  sheets  
only later I discovered what this was about 
Your Parents do their very best , to keep any Evil out

These people are not just from the South , they are all over the World 
Leaving me that day with no doubt Make the choice you have , we all do
Remember Gods Children are innocent , and many a color , they could be Blue ~


Poem Details | by Tom Quigley |
Categories: granddaughter, heartbreak, history, lost love, racism,

A Day In A Town

Evening. A harbinger, the breeze is redolent with petrichorSoft rain begins. Across my bucolic demesne, I see My erstwhile dalliance’s town Ephemeral it was But such passion lives on That day A willow tree Where serendipity Turned propinquity to romance The epiphany of our love brought not Open doors, but a higher fence. Ancient love eons old Recalled from my wheelchair. Jade eyes Chocolate skin Casualty of hate. Granddaughter rolls me back inside Efflorescence crunches under the wheels Her eyes flit to the ebony Young man down the road Perhaps times change. Hope lives. 4/10/16


Poem Details | by Brad Nicolas |
Categories: death, love, morning, poetry, race, racism,

Blood On The Leaves

Blood on the Leaves

It makes me sad
To think, then mad
To be associated with them,
only by color.
You play us like they judged that man.
The blood on the leaves;
Warm and full of life.
Don’t put that on me, Ricky Bobby.

We lost someone today.
Sad is all this is,
Pushing us 100 years in the past.
I can’t imagine that town’s shame.


Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: community, health, history, integrity, love, race, racism,

Not Your Negro

Last night I was mesmerized
by James Baldwin
in a documentary
"I Am Not Your Negro"
in which Baldwin reflects on
Medger, Malcolm, and Martin
who were shot in that order
within six years of each other,
all under age forty,
by guns newer nationalistic leaders of the NRA
would most likely celebrate
for sale and use to hate,
retaliate
for sins of uppity last-class birth.

One picture stands out
among several shocking views.
A Birmingham Alabama protest placard
stating
INTEGRATED SCHOOLS
AND MARRIAGE
IS COMMUNISM.

Both Marx and Engels
would have been surprised to read this,
but perhaps such an obvious display of ignorance
merits no alternative definition,
or even grammar,
having more to do with economics
than monoculturing misuse of supremacist politics.

So allow me
this one much belated try.

Communism is an evolutionary theory
of economic development
assuming competition between those who own
and those who do not
will inevitably lead
to falling aristocracies of hoarded wealth,
regardless of race, color, creed,
gender,
gender preference,
religion,
language,
whether you vote blue,
or red,
or green,
much less black and white not together.

Communitarianism
is a cooperative evolutionary experience
in which co-investment between and among co-owners
leads to optimal quality improvement
of healthy wealth outcomes,
regardless of race,
gender,
creolizing mutually enculturing
as above.

Democratic whole Earth system healthy politics,
both sacred and secular varieties,
support communitarian wealthy co-investing economics,
and vice versa.

But,
neither competitive totalitarian communism
nor cooperative subsidiary ownership
and responsibility
and authority of communitarians
is defined by racial integration,
or libertarianism either, for that possibly unrelated matter,
although these might agree
that continuing freedoms for segregation
and its fossilizing maintenance
prolongs and builds higher walls
between those who have most,
those who have nothing,
and those who worry about joining the latter
by waving placard ignorance
for the former,
too busy hoarding their money
within gated communities
to actually show up,
while quietly financing
our most avid absence of integrity supporters.

Enforcing segregation of races
works about as well as
forced separation of food-chain species,
where eventually everybody starves separately
rather than feeding off
and on
each other
together,
more like an actually healthy community.



Poem Details | by millard lowe |
Categories: abuse, anger, black african american, emotions, hate, love, racism,

EMOTIONAL RECIPROCITY

    
     EMOTIONAL RECIPROCITY

Anger is an acceptable and normal emotion,
but I must not be;
such an emotion is only for the free.
No matter the commotion,
I must take care not to act abnormally.
No matter what’s happening to me,
I must restrain myself and not get angry!

Hate is an acceptable and normal emotion too;
strange as that may be…
Yet, is normal for the psyche of you;
but abnormal for the mind-set given me.

Love is the mother 
of all emotions that can be expressed;
and is like none other…
She’s the one that should never be suppressed.

Although my life is a miserable wreck,
Woven with misery and strife,
I must struggle to keep my emotions in check;
otherwise, I just might lose my very life.

No matter what’s happening to me,
I must never suffer myself to be angry;
nor allow myself to ever express hate,
but to accept my fate…with docile humility…
And not rant and rage like somebody crazy:
For my life could end on any given date.

With my emotions, I would love to know what to do.
Maybe, one day, you should trade places with me;
then I could know and love how to work my emotions on you:
being angry and hateful as much as I’m allowed to be.

On second thought, I love the skin that God has put me in.
I love knowing that the life I live is not a God sent sin.
I love knowing it’s okay to hate the evil way you have treated me.
I love knowing it’s okay to be angry at not being treated honorably.

When at last…all has been said and done,
and for me, justice and liberty will have been won,
then will love’s emotion be shared by each and everyone.


Poem Details | by louise nelson |
Categories: america, black african american, humanity, love, racism, society,

What is the altetnative

Life as we know it makes no sense if we have no choice 
So what is the alternative and do we have a voice ?

The world is spinning out of control with violence and death all around 
And the Republican presidential candidate is a racist media hogging clown
Everything is off kilter and while I sit and contemplate 
What is my alternative and what will be my fate?
How do I sing songs of joy when chaos is on the rise? 
How do I survive a Babylonian society and keep my eyes on God's prize? 
In the midst of perversity and immoral behavior 
My only alternative is to stay  connected to Jesus my Savior 

When I see a white man kill nine African Americans in a church
And after arrested given a bullet proof vest
Yet when an ex-military black man kills five white cops 
He's blown up I feel such unrest 
Over the injustice and the inequality that is occurring every day 
Over 123 black men killed this year what more is there to say 

What is the alternative?  What is it that we need to do? 
What is the alternative? As a nation we need to seek truth 
I don't condone MrJohnson's behavior 
but I understand where he's coming from 
Too many young unarmed black brothers 
Killed by white police guns

So what is the alternative? 
What as a nation do we realize? 
That racism is alive and well and killing blacks is on the rise 
What is the alternative? 
How do we bring about true change? 
It's time for white Americans to stop acting like we're deranged 
We are Americans too my people have been here over 400 years 
Yes we were once slaves but let me make this clear
We are no longer your property 
We are no longer your chattel 
Stop killing and slaughtering my people 
Like they're mindless cattle 

So what is the alternative? 
It's time we all develop a true relationship with God 
And hopefully be infused with a Christlike love
And true compassion in out hearts 

THAT IS THE ALTERNATIVE 


Poem Details | by Verlena S. Walker |
Categories: angst, break up, change, character, conflict, funny love, racism,

INDIFFERENCE

[In High School, this took place].

The White Boy said (excuse my French), if I fall in love with V’lena, I would be a 
     buffoon.
     
V’lena stated if I denied my love for Butch, I would be a damn fool

At once, both responded you are a racist.

{These are all lines from my Senior Play}.

Indifference 
     The Title
______________________________|
Penned on May 24, 2014!


Poem Details | by Madhavi Sarjare pagare |
Categories: angel, anger, autumn, beauty, best friend, betrayal, boyfriend, care, character, culture, depression, desire, for her, for him, friend, how i feel, humor, i love you, innocence, inspiration, inspirational, lost, lost love, love, lust, poems, poetry, racism, religion, trust, wedding, wife, world, writing,

LOVE FOREVER FADES AWAY

 LOVE FOREVER FADES AWAY!!!!   wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare

Waving like the sea,
Your decision was bias.
You ought to give me wedding ring,
But set my dreams on fire.

Can you answer me for the single reason, what made you do this?
Was it the beauty? Was it the caste, or the complexion?

You said I am your love at first sight.
You were the one who took the initiative and intended to keep it up.
You were the one who delightedly filled my heart with zeal of love.
You were the one who elegantly filled the warmth of love in my soul.

Confronted with an unsolvable dilemma’s where there is no right answer, we always know the answer to everything.
But what you did? You just made false promises.
Still you define it as the love, true love?
Or the love that vanished with no reason.
Answer me, answer me, my thee??

Near the bandra reclamation,
Sitting at the amusement park,
You were the one who excitedly expressed your thirsty feelings.
You were the one who stared at me without closing your eyes for a single second.
But you were the one who set my dreams on fire.

You said you will ask your parent’s for lifetime commitment?
But I will ask you one thing, if you feel your parents will understand and decide your love,  then why you fell in love?
If you know that story wont line up with an happy ending, then what made you do this?
It’s just the pain you mounted on my heartYou just broke my heart.

When you blamed, that it’s the caste, it hurted me like hell.
Answer me my love, what made you do this?
I was happy being single.
Then, why you disturbed my life with no reason?
Then, why I got so much acquainted with you for all season?

It’s was so easy, that you picked up different slices of life but why Castism you did my almighty?
In the bruising darkness just left with ashes of memories, lying my face down in ignorance.
You broke my trust for all the life time in my way.
But still you left the happy prints, as a hope of ray.
It’s because of you, Love forever fades away.
But still left with the mementoes of yours, reminded me every day!!










Poem Details | by Clay More |
Categories: love,

NO RACISM

We have to accept every religion with respect and open arms.
It seem like we are here to eat, make good and then to die;
Getting hate, fighting wars over religious made covens:
We stand far from seeing love, peace or acceptance;
If we can’t live up to appreciate others for whom they are;
Where then do we go?


Poem Details | by Shanity Rain |
Categories: abuse, addiction, angel, best friend, black african american, brother, bullying, character, cry, dance, death, death of a friend, dedication, discrimination, eulogy, farewell, forgiveness, freedom, friend, friendship, gender, goodbye, grief, happiness, heaven, identity, life, love, memory, pain, pride, racism, rainbow, rights,

William part 1

I ask all to be open minded as I tell the story of my friend,  William
There are so many prejudice in this World , from color to sex 

To me it has always been the soul , the person inside 
For one that is shallow will not experience life in true blessing 

William my friend was African American , he was fun and personality full of 'I am here "
William was Gay , William disowned , William called "A queer "

Well this is a lesson for all to know
God does not care what color , but the heart , what color it shows

I had left my 1st Husband , with 2 children I had to support
I was depressed , felt alone in the civilian World of a sort 

For when I got to Monterey bay , I was on a Military base 
Very shy and recluse , not leaving the perimeter of the land 
I opened such a big door when I left that abusive Man 

I had the tiniest apartment with 2 little rooms , probably 550 sqfeet I presume
I will never for get the night He came to my door , William ," Girl, lets go dancing 
Let's go explore ! He called me 'The platinum Blonde "

We went out together and danced , he was amazing ! William energized any room He Lit it Up ! 
For he had something inside his beautiful soul , no money could buy, nor silver or gold.

Well years went by in Monterey bay , I had fallen in love with a man , Lost so much time

Time went by , after the man broke my heart ,I remember "where is William "
I missed something that lies  deep in my heart The true Love and friendship of he I craved

Now this story is long so go to  "William part 2  "be patient , be brave


Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: addiction, culture, gender, health, love, racism, slavery,

Creolizing Grace

We often lament long-term effects of slavery
on those enslaved across multiple generations.

Enslavement leads to addiction and codependent denial,
then is taught and mentored to enslaved children,
also separated from family and sold,
until third generations and beyond
were dressed in commodified adoptions
and creolizing adaptions
and fear
and anger
and despair
about not born good enough
right enough
correctly enough
healthy enough
timely enough
to gratefully know God's White Caste Grace.

As hellish as this continuing historic lamentation
co-arises a tale of chronic traumatic stress disorder
issuing from slave owners
who purchased human nature
with a contract exchanging money
for rights and responsibilities
and violent terrorism of animal husbandry.

The children of slave owners,
and those who profited by economic and political relationships with this ancient breed
of traumatized neurotic, if not psychotic, people owners
continue a contagious curse of unresolved stress disorders
to the extent we allow ourselves to hide behind
entitled to be superior ego-manias.

To the extent slavery and concomitant addictions
to violence and racism,
xenophobia and sexism,
capitalism and ageism,
(years of potential return on investment)
resolve to heal White Caste Grace,
to that extent we are open to profound creolization of love,
available only through gratitude for sacred dignity
of all God's Earthly Creations,
in all our polyculturing diversity.

Yet unresolved owning of people,
sex as transaction between buyer and sold,
and more violent ways and means of husbandry
as applied to women and not straight enough men,
children,
poor and vulnerable populations,
criminalized and shamed and disgraced stigmatizations,
all carry these worn threads of traumatic stress disorder,
human natural lives as if competitions to own and control and rent and manage
other angry fear-avoiding people
were compatible with abundant political ecology of grace
and mutual gratitude's democratically ubiquitous response.

While the Agricultural and Industrial Revolutions
greatly expanded the scale of slave and people-owner tensions
and pathological husbandry enculturations,
moral ambiguities about humane patriarchal stewardship
and matriarchal domesticating husbandry repressions
appear to be as old as Creation Stories.

Freedom for healthy interdependent relationships
remain in tension with deeply etched fears of self-enslavement
and angry insecurities about intrinsic grace
and value
and dignity
shared by all Earth's Tribes,
all God's Sacred Creations,
continuing internal landscapes of enslaved property
and more exterior climates of growing competitive
rabid
over-heated
over-populated
Yang-dominant 
pathology,
rather than Yang/Yin creolizing harmony.

Transitioning from the Industrial and Agricultural Revolutions
into a permaculturally Sustainable Evolution
invites each of us to embrace
this great divide written across each unhealed yet interdependent heart,
part humane slave owner
and part domesticated addict of self-denial,
to continue more resonant matriarchal self-husbandry
with gratitude for healthy grace,
with love for
and with
and of this Earth space,
spiritual interior and natural exterior
creolizing place.


Poem Details | by Cameron Hartley |
Categories: beautiful, color, love, racism,

Gold

When I close my eyes...
I can't see the 
Color of his skin.
But he feels like 
The color
Gold-
Tastes like
The color
Honey-
Sounds like
His breath is
The color of 
Light.


Poem Details | by GERT WEWEGE |
Categories: abuse, care, christian, discrimination, love, racism, sun,

The Same Sun

Our lives are passing by and we look down
Someone with holes in their shoes and we frown
People are so different, city and town
Even if you wearing rags or expensive gown

All our hearts pump the same red
Some of us are lucky to have bread
Cold winter nights in a warm bed
Others living like, the walking dead

Our hearts have gone to stone
Every breath we take is on loan
Regardless your palace or time-zone
Is everyone too afraid of the unknown

After all is said and done
And caring less for everyone
In the long run
We are all under the same sun


Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: age, career, happiness, love, parents, racism,

Good Journeys

I have heard many moms repeat
"You never stop being a parent."

Sadly, I don't see or hear that quite so much from the dads,
although I know of remarkably nurturing exceptions.

I thought of this as my impossibly young,
yet oldest son,
nearly twenty-two,
stopped by for an early birthday present, cash,
before heading out in his car
with a fellow rap artist friend
on their way from this Atlantic coast
to that San Francisco Bay.

D.Bnever drove away to college,
or flew off on a great summer excursion,
or even went off to a technical school,
nor the military.

He did try to make Job Corp fit.
But, two suicides
and one stabbing on his dorm floor
and he decided not to return
after Holiday vacation that year.

He has been the last driver of not just one,
but two, of my totaled cars.
The second crash he walked away from
was when a drunk young white male
hit him head on
in the middle of a gorgeous New England sun-bright June
afternoon
as he was coming home from his first,
and last,
out of home employment
busing tables in a casino diner.

D.Bwas approaching the end of his three month probation period
when they let him go,
primarily for his ADHD challenges
with getting to work on time
with all the pieces of his uniform
clean and intact.
But, he also had trouble showing up
ready to set aside the dramas of his personal-political life,
which often feels like a race 
and age 
and gender profiled
and marginal 
and commodified life.
It was hard to stay focused;
to be there when he was there.

Tomorrow D.Band his friend since high school days
will see a slice of these continental States
from coast to coast and back again
for the first time.

I am ravenously happy for him.
I wish I could have given him wings, 
some outrageous pile of cash.
My heart stops
when I notice how he is so vulnerable
exposed
raw
too often despairing and perhaps even terrified
more about himself
than intimidated by a hostile world closing him out.

Closing ranks
on all the ways his particular black life will not matter
in Earth's vast history.
Not significant enough to be sure if it could become possible,
or even safe,
to love himself,
to allow himself a long and warm regard,
as I embrace him.

I don't know if I could finish being a child
without becoming an everyday
relentlessly caring and nurturing parent.
I can think of nothing so binding both feet to Earth
yet so free flying impossible to control.

For many reasons,
whether despite or because of my single gay male identity,
I chose the second class Mommy Track
instead of going for the Ph.D.
And not just the Mommy Track;
I adopted only the older broken kids
who would never safely drive or hold a job,
or would never talk or walk,
or would never thoroughly clean off her own poop,
or sleep through the nightmare night,
or would not feel safe outside our home,
stalking the boundaries of life while high school friends head on and out
to colleges and new friends
while he struggles to tolerate two classes each semester
at a nearby community college.

It feels good to know I am needed
but frightening to realize I cannot retire from this parenting profession
except through my own growing incapacity.

These four charges of mine
remind me we are each such a precious gift
for each other.
I have never regretted my more generous choices
rather than less magnanimous.
Not necessarily because the return on investment has always been better for my kids,
but because those were the moments standing out most clearly
in my column for Fully Living,
rather than continuing to draw out a stingy half-life,
under invested in our shared future regenerators.

I hope D.Band friend have the time of their young lives
as I have had mine,
and even better,
even better.

It is so much easier,
and comforting,
to have old and happy memories
when we have had both young and generously happy times,
seasons,
reasons to smile
and greet each fleeting dawn.







Poem Details | by Andrew Crisci |
Categories: change, children, conflict, love, peace, people, political, poverty, racism, religion, society, together, truth, war,

A Free World Without Barriers And Flags

How unthinkable is for a Jew and an Arab to walk
side by side and end the atrocities of war!
They wouldn't be afraid of a nuclear weapon attack,
their sky would be blue, not filled with horror;  
will their children be taught unprejudiced love 
to build that harmonious and peaceful grove?

If religious wars were never fought, 
so much grief would be spared
for the ones holding the hateful thought:
wouldn't Jesus be more loved?

If food were given to hungry people, 
death would be walking away from all;
many see starvation, but ignore the call...
they rather live well and ignore their struggle.

I must believe in the dream of world peace
when happiness would reign and increase
in lands where justice has been miguided
and the quest for truth has been denied.

Let's hold hands and teach the little ones
never to be remembered of conflicts
that caused woe and death for ages!
Let's write " Peace " on they foreheads:
they will know pure love that can be built with kind hands...
they will create a free world without barriers and flags! 


Written on 10/25/2016


Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: culture, humanity, love, music, political, race, racism,

Singing for Stevie's Wonder

I remember,
in the early 60s,
our thirty mile drive
from our historic family farm,
in all White rural Michigan,
not counting the Mexican migrant workers
which adults made a point of discounting,
on the first of several shopping trips to Thrifty Acres,
through vibrantly young all Black urban streets
of nearby Lansing.

Making Stevie Wonder and I,
him singing in all Black city churches
and me in all White rural and small village churches,
harmonic neighbors in my privately humming heart
yet never possible to publicly meet and greet
as this nation and this world were meant to sing
and dance our regenerations not apart.

I didn't know apartheid by default yet
but I do remember
seeing nearly black as ink skin for the very first time
on a smiling brown-eyed boy
on a chipped white painted bicycle without rims,
and longing to talk and listen with him
and laugh with him about the fresh green smell of freedom from training wheels,
freedom to create our own fast pedaling breeze
across our summer-hot black and white faces and arms,
and knowing that I would touch his dark warm skin
with loving wonder
about what it could be like to become with him,
to grow together,
to smell and feel and fly our satisfying diverse integrity
on a tandem red in-your-face bike,
bright shining all the way back
from Black-streets Lansing
through little White Woodland,
spreading across all Black with White Capital Cities
on out to woodland farmers,
to peddle fly while singing our glad hosanna wonders.

As I reweave
this first drive by encounter with racial diversity
and humane ecstatic curiosity,
I imagine asking Mom to stop,
pull our metallic gold Ford over
so I could ask his thick black-framed glasses name,
which would be Stevie,
and take his hand
to walk his bike back to his home and family
where we would live together
happily and most prosperously ever after.

This was my moment,
too quickly passed,
to know passion's love at first sight,
these sublime sounds and dark satin skin smells
of Stevie's Wonder.


Poem Details | by Teddy Kimathi |
Categories: art, imagery, life, racism, society, urban, world,

Love is on the edge

I live in a town bursting with all kinds of people;
humans who break shops and groceries in broad daylight;
attempt to put explosives inside a school bus;
hate Zionism to the deepest Swastika core;
people who see life revolving only around them.

I live in a town which feels as though you are sleeping on a yogi’s
bed, filled with pointed nails;
love is becoming thinner each day, though I am still carrying a spark
of compassion to the townsmen stuck on a roller-coaster 
heading to the abyss of dark reality; co-existence is a very hard vocabulary

Love is on the edge……


Poem Details | by lol nm |
Categories: cry, horror, how i feel, hurt, i love you, inspirational, racism,

The Guy in the Empty Desk

You're next to my crush
the love of my life
you shouldn't sit there
that spot isn't yours

IT'S MINE!!!!!!!

Give it back to me 
you don't deserve it
I  him
I deserve it

Give.
It
Back.


Poem Details | by Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser |
Categories: absence, abuse, analogy, angst, bullying, care, desire, emotions, faith, feelings, for her, for him, future, growth, heart, inspiration, inspirational, life, loneliness, longing, love, pain, passion, racism, spiritual, strength, success, uplifting, visionary, wisdom, world,

LIKE A HIRED SOLDIER

who can tell a person is wrong or right?

day-to-day each one is a hired soldier..
fighting in their own battlefield..
not to kill a criminal or a terrorist..
rather a person striving for better life..

who can definitely say one's reason for living?

allow me to say that each one is struggling so..
one reason maybe is to earn a living..
one reason maybe is to gain power..
or this maybe one reason to share God's love...

who can tell hundred percent that such person can do harm?

isn't it, only by giving into chances that you can know one person..?
isn't it, through God's eyes we are all equal despite who we are here on earth..?
isn't it , through genuine acceptance that divisions and differences are broken?
isn't it reaching out is fine but alright?

sad to say that persons judge without knowing..
sad to say persons can conclude without even investigating..
sad to say, persons who are educated will look at others just by their race..
sad to say, persons outcast and demeans another person because of looks..

hired soldiers we maybe everyday..
true to say, we must on guard to others..
we must be vigilant to stay protected..
we must use all resources in us to keep living..

however, must we be hired soldiers to condemn and persecute innocence?

by: olive_eloi
19/10/2013 2:12pm


Poem Details | by curtis johnson |
Categories: america, anger, love, racism, violence,

50 Years Ago, City On Fire

                                                                                                                                                              
I was at work in Chicago when shots were fired in Memphis                                                                                       I had no idea that shortly thereafter, cities would also be on fire.
It was close to quitting time when my boss said to me, "He's dead!"                                                                                 I do not remember my reply, but no doubt confusion filled my head                                                                 

So I boarded a city bus for home from 'The Loop' to the Westside                                                                               But before I made it home, the flames had already lit up the night sky.
I have had many a peaceful dream as well as some horrific nightmares                                                                           This was clearly not a dream but a living front-roe-seat nightmare                                                                   
From the streetcar, I could see mayhem and a city out of control                                                                                Aghast, bewildered, filled with disbelief, eye to eye with hopelessness.
There had been progress, but the wilderness wandering would continue                                                                

A young man of 18, I was both sad for DrKing and shocked for America.
Massive violence had erupted upon the violent death of a non-violent man                                                       Irony defied imagination as logic, reason, and sanity bowed to emotion and passion.
                                                                                                          Presently, as I write this on the west coast, it's 5:30 PM in Chicago, just about the time that I received the news 50 years ago50 years ago today, the voice of 'The Dreamer' was silenced, giving way to the alarming siren sounds of fire trucks and police cars
04042018cjPSFB


Poem Details | by Danita Michelle Allen |
Categories: love, racism, self,

Who Told You

Who told you...
that...
Your black...
Isn’t beautiful?
That your broad nose,
Wasn’t descended 
From Kings & Queens.
That it didn’t speak 
of Royalty?
That the onyx of your brow,
And the copper, bronze, topaz, 
And the black diamond, 
That is your skin,
Is not as or more valuable 
as their pearl or lily white?
Who told you,
That the way that your hair
Stands or lays
Should not be the standard 
From which “good” is
Measured?  
That it should be chemically
Altered, instead of
Naturally treasured...
That the fullness of your lips
Should be censured,
Until wanted and permitted,
By them...
Who told you,
That your role in life,
Shouldn’t be planned 
And designed,
But not banned,
By your own hand...?
Who told you, 
That you had to 
pull your brother or sister
down,
So that you could 
Climb out of 
The barrel.. 
that was not created 
By us, but for us?
And...who told you,
That you couldn’t be loved?
Love you.
Love
Your
Beautiful 
Black
Self.


Poem Details | by edward johnson |
Categories: africa, bible, black african american, i am, i love you, jesus, racism,

Being Black

I do not have a problem being Black
God made me Black
I was made in his image
I thank you, God