Black Poetry : A Message To A Black Son The Fears Of The Color Black and The Black Man


Well-Known Member
Jan 15, 2003
Brooklyn N. Y.
Within this Universe truth shall not be silence; Who and what is the black man? The blood that flows through his vain as his brother, Jesus, Solomon, Moses; all men of the rainbow colors of God. The empire of Gold; the story was written on the stone. There is no dress rehearsal in who he is; the mission Is to bring forth the beauty that God has blessed; and his gems are restored. Through the eyes of a black mother the story hidden and sealed, but the shield shall be broken; For every black man that dies in the struggle for unity; As his brother Jesus; shall return; there is no back door to the words that was written in the books of life. I shall display the oppositions of what and why? A message to a Black Son do you know how valuable you are? Angry black woman speaks; know the man; know the boy; meet the King.
Power struggles which racism portrays the documentation of war, it is not the color of a man, but the myths that have haunted man for century’s, color is blind if the heart is pure,
Man is man, foul is foul, God is God alone. It is not the man on the mountain; but man who walks with dignity and righteousness. It has been a decade which man hide behinds the codes of color, relinquish the true beauty in all people, I shall take you on a Journey which you might understand that we all as people feel the same pain of ignorance, my obligation is to God, not man for his like of correspondence to truth is hidden within a televise mind. Many who are afraid just the thought of the mentioning of Color, and many who have live within the dark for so long he begins to hate self.

Man who fears the word Culture and Color, release the toxins that divide man as a people, it is not the man who is feared, it’s the myths that have divided God Children, the unknown of the true person within, man has fought a battle for years, living in a tunnel of fear, the mention of the word black, creates a fear that man shall be blame for the evil of some, everyman is accountable for ones on sins, during slavery, remeber my son, every thing that comes in black face is not your brothers, Harriet Tubman the abuse and the battered, never was she defeated by the devils who wore the mask, she continued to bring my brothers and sisters across, fear not the word of color, what God has created no man shall erase, racism is not only one mans dilemma; but the world suffers the same source of ignorance, breaking the barrio of color, maybe all men can enjoy the beauty that God has given. It is not the man on the mountain but the man who walks with dignity and strength.

No one recognize the warriors, because many have never fought a war, only wisdom brings calm to the pain, nevertheless the dead soul has know compassion only to self, Oh what a bitter taste of brim, but the spirit of God walks us through the fire, peace and blessings my brother warrior.

It is not the pain of the burning bullets,
But the smell of instant death,
The black trains as it rides slowly,
To take me to the other side,
It is not the lead that burns through my body,
But the tears that shall flow from my mothers eyes,
Its not the coldness of my brother,
Who kill me because he feels he can,
Dark as the night that the blood runs
From the leaded bullets upon my chest.
Know man knows the battle of war
Until he has bit the bullet of death.

It is not the horror that sets before me,
But the image a King has died,
in those terrifying screams of death around us
that reminded me; another tribe has passed on.

Plunge in a black body bag, another one out the way
The hidden darkness that surface the face of a snake,
Never realizing death for death, nevertheless one might
Live upon the earth, and one whom moved on to a better place.

The wind, the storm, the sun, waves fare well,
it is not the satisfied look in my brothers eyes, he have
Killed his brother, no sympathy that he express,
The devils children have struck again, oh what a bitter
Spaceman of a dead mind, who cannot control, the
Leaded bullet of death, which rises upon the mid night
Horror that lye upon my chest, the screams of thy mother
Thy have killed my son.
The rose have cuddled in a fetal position
I shall never forget, the pain of thy birth,
She have know position her self to the same event;
those steady and merciless black fingers,
with the hand on the trigger,
know mercy, upon the beaded eyes of death,
holding the darkness, that seeks my death;
hell gaze me in the eyes, as the assassins
plan my death, I have moved on,
but unto I shall leave, I shall return
I shall live within the mind of
The assassins who stood before my death,
If thy take thy life, thy take ones own,
Eye for and Eye, tooth for a tooth,
I shall return, I take my journey on the
Black train who slowly drives upon my
Space, the black smoke that spreads upon
The skies, the engine call no return.

And addictive drug call power,
And andote call murder, a mind call
Destruction, bullets call deliverance,
Black trains call desire.

I shall not die, the carcass is just a frame,
I shall return when God gives the word,
The brutal of the beast, has set a trap for
Thee, the only pain I feel, the tears upon
My mama’s face, the black dragon,
Shall feel the whip of his own
Dis regards, I am not dead the spirit
Cried from the grave.

Looking out thru these bars, the scars upon my hands; the lack of conscious continues to black list my soul, how darkness blinds the bitterness of the heart, their shall be know love, if the heart cries; hidden under the brad clad mask , I sit upon a 8/11 cage, thy greed has penalize my judgment, I relive thy ancestors, but though my dis obedience to God, the four by walls cover my space, the screaming of the jungle, that lives upon my space, caged in a mask of confusion, I shall not suffer in silence, the hell that I set before self, the injustice to my brother, I the cage bird without a song, I was blessed with the jewels of family, I have tarnished my blessings before God.
The bounding of fair that lies upon my turf, the walls closing end, I cannot breath, I humble in a fetal position, wanting to crawl back in the womb, thy spirit leashes out like the fire of hell, I continue to resume, I relive the blood of thy brother, the haunting that combines my pain of conscious, I seek, I shall now feel the fowl of my brother. Many Elders have pleaded treason to your cause, be a leader my son.

Oh the spoken words of warrior has know back door, the wisdom to know and the reasons to apply, the almighty pen the instrument of truth, only the poor man shall sit at the table, and the rich man shall hold the door, the ancestors who walked through the fire, and never look back, the sister black mother Moses, turned over 3 wars, understanding the mission of a soldier, one must know God, the light of the almighty was standing at the door, truth has no back door in the father's house, the blue print was written as Jesus, the revolution shall continue; as his warriors complete the mission which must be complete, I cry not for man he has know control; the warriors of my fathers house shall have the last word.​


Lyon King Admin.
Mar 21, 2001
awesome write i'm listening wit intent ear speak on sista almighty


Well-Known Member
May 13, 2003
Bay Area, CA
Servant of the People
Sister ashanta :grouphug: so pleased to share in your poetic glow once again

uplift the truth and defeat the devil my sister :grouphug:

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