PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

 

 

“Smoke wrote the same story

since the dawn of time.”

(Derek Walcott)

“Though we pray to nothing

Nothing cannot be there.”

(Derek Walcott)

 

                                                                The more things change

                                                                is the more things remain the same.

                                                                The more things remain the same,

                                                                is how more wealth is gained.

                                                                The more wealth is gained,

                                                                is the ruling Cast true aim.

                                                                 

                                                                All else,

                                                                is just “smoke and mirrors.”

                                                                To distract and justify retribution

                                                                for riches not yet attained.

                                                                 

                                                                One needs more

                                                                than what God has given.

                                                                Gluttony is the heart of evil.

                                                                 

                                                                The Hoard’s mentality

                                                                makes it home

                                                                in the collective unconscious.

                                                                Its primal bloodlust 

                                                                lays dormant in the id.

                                                                The Sleeper slumbers!

                                                                 

                                                                The ego is unchain

                                                                and runs rampant,

                                                                while the super-ego suffers a coma.

                                                                 

                                                                The vile frenzy of men

                                                                shrouded with dark capes

                                                                rides the four dark horses,

                                                                to enforce white ascension upon high.

                                                                The Cast system is alive!

                                                                 

                                                                Mob justice

                                                                void of civilized practice law

                                                                with intent to blatantly murder.

                                                                The complacent society

                                                                plays it part in it silent support

                                                                of homicidal maniacs.

                                                                The enforcement of slow,

                                                                but assured genocide.

                                                                 

                                                                The Judicial system

                                                                dance to the political tunes

                                                                of covert politics.

                                                                The Law is a deserter,

                                                                of “due process...;”

                                                                surrendering to the darkness

                                                                of vigilante justice.

                                                                Decadence has found its posh home.

                                                                 

                                                                Welcome to social norms

                                                                or for some,

                                                                normal living.

                                                                Who dare make sense of the

                                                                psychology of unexplained wickedness?

                                                                Unspeakable evil can never be justified!

 

Jesus Jeremiah Jones,

was a boy like any other.

born innocent in a foreign land,

but his choice of home was not of his own.

 

His Grand Ma and Grand Pa,

Were stolen from the land of their birth,

where milk and honey flowed like rain,

and the native-folk walk on pebbles of gold.

It was not everyone’s paradise,

but it was our paradise nonetheless.

 

Nagi,

The Great Divider watch over us.

The ancestors,

which form the threads of life

stitching together individual lives

to form the living-sheet of the community.

 

The fabric of life was alive with vitality.

Not all was perfect,

but it was perfectly fine for all of us

or as perfect as perfect could be,

when considering the time.

 

For we loved our nation,

and our nation loved use back.

It was our little heaven,

as heaven on earth could only be.

 

Many Grand Mumaas and Grand Pupaas,

were captured like beast,

ram like sardines into the hulls of ships,

with others who shared the same fate.

 

But,

A more accurate picture would be the latter.

The apocalyptic slaves ships were,

jammed,

packed,

with fresh two legged cattle;

a floating

fecal

hell

hole,

in the bowels of untold numbers

of wooden demon beasts.

 

We should have been given homage,

for all men were born in Africa,

and forced by fact to call her their mother.

But not all men love their mothers?

Not all.

 

Though all of humanity were birth

out of her black loam loins,

into her nurturing arms

to suckled her Nubian breast in infancy.

We don’t all love her,

but many of use love her still.

 

We should have been given

the proper courtesies,

or due regard for our humanity,

for Gaia gave birth to homosapien

in the Great Rif valley.

 

Like the prodigal son,

The Slavers 

were returning home.

But not for forgiveness or a feast,

but to ravage the continent of there birth:

That gave them life.

That gave them paper.

That even gave them there God.

 

We should have been embraced as family, but instead we were promoted;

from humans to prehuman;

from persons to beasts,

from brothers to cattle.

 

We were declared to be sub humans,

animals,

so to speak.

As a matter of fact,

three fifth of a human being.

It is all the same,

and carries the same name,

unbridled evil,

would stanch just as sweet.

 

Our Slave Masters,

rising up from the Ocean,

resurrected in the guise of our ancestors;

pale as our long dead;

Kings

Queens

Kins

Fathers

Mothers

Brothers

Sisters

Children

Lovers,

and

spouses.

 

Nevertheless,

they wreak havoc

on our civilization

like Star Trek “Borg.”

 

Assimilating without understanding,

decimating out of fear,

and want of empathy.

 

For Armageddon came early to the continent,

Just like everything else,

for all was at an end,

as far as we were concerned.

 

While the ocean opened its merciful mouth,

and swallowed uncountable black souls.

The waters overwhelm

by the lances of our tears,

felt our bleeding hearts;

took pity on our nation,

and received most of her children

in a swift ending.

Our cold bleached bones

at the bottom of the abyss

tells the gruesome tale.

 

While religious goliaths

collected money for each of our saved souls,

we were ordained to be;

heretics,

infidels,

chaffers,

heathens,

witches,

warlocks,

savages,

cannibals,

Negros,

Niggers,

and unbelievers.

Everything else but men

or at least human beings.

 

But to us,

We were people who loved our children.

We were men who adored the land.

We respected our ancestors.

We respected our elders,

which melted the past,

the future into the present,

to form deep bonds with our ancestors.

 

So,

There was never a question

of one’s position in the land.

The stream of life was a continuous flow,

and not hampered by generation gaps.

 

Even though we worship the Great Divider,

we were giving the deserving fate

of burning at the stake.

 

We love Nagi,

creator of all things.

We loved our God

who breath life into  existence

from the void.

But her name was different

even though her essence was the same.

 

{...(conclusion to my unfinished work)}

 

Remember,

we though the Slave Masters were our ancestors coming home.

 

The Nation supresses the memory of slavery,

because of the  curse of racism in reverse,

this is what we learned in many verse.

 

The Jews speak of the holocaust,

and Hitler’s bloody rain.

 

The Chinese remember Genghis Khan,

and the unbearable pain.

 

The Romans lament the Huns,

smashing up Caesar’s Empire

like a warlord going insane.

 

The British remember Napoleon Bonaparte,

and how he caused fair to fall like rain.

 

The Kurds remember Saddam Hussein,

they cannot forget the pain,

and when will we be treated the same?

Empires;

build there cities,

fill there coffers,

and run there war machines

on the cheap cheap fuel of slaves.

 

Expelling exhaust

of inhuman cost;

blood

fire

and pain.

 

Black slave.

White slave.

Any and all slaves,

was the living fossil fuel of the past.

 

The sizzling

of curdling blood,

and mangled flesh

is the pollution of the past.

 

Tearing this from the pages of history

to leave a gapping black hole,

to devour the truth,

is just plain obtuse.

 

Slavery allowed the west to live as kings,

is an enabling truth.

 

Burning the tapestry of records,

and skewing the evidence,

is simple not sane.

 

Forgetting the sacrifices of our ancestors

without a whisper of untold names;

is to steal away our place in history,

ripping apart the Nation’s dignity,

and rapping our humanity.

Is the same crime,

for a second time.

 

Derek Walcott said it best;

“Smoke wrote the same story

since the dawn of time.”

Leegal Poet

Wayne Ferron

Wayne Ferron.All rights reserved @ Copyright