Black Poetry : Dignity Beyond Persecution,Honorable Roger Toussaint,Rebirth Of Marcus Garvey

ASHANTA

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Dignity Beyond Persecution
Honorable Roger Toussaint
Rebirth Of Marcus Garvey



In this format of a communists Society;
Toussaint a man who is persecuted for
protesting against slave wages, in the
principalities of life, and dictated and
gagged by the order, he shall not speak,
to be summoned in the words of blind
justice, that he shall not go against the
laws made by the dictators, he may
not speak; In this life one must sometimes
loose to win stripped of his rights to defend
his cause, in the prosperity of a subtonic
Presentation of summary in the oppositions
, To do are to dye, to dye are to live,
Evaluations of power that sanctions
the rights of dignity, beyond persecution,
Mastery of Self. Man of integrity the minister of spirit.
Finding of principal, might of power, in a order
of thieves that set before the table,
A black man under all odds stood tall, and
the warriors of principals that stood before him,
a thief has no loyalty to color, only by
his on proclamation of order, nevertheless
man feels that what dose not effect him ,
will not effect another, but in the rules of
life, a thief only has loyalty to self, the poor
shall be the one to suffer,
Bluntly called thieves, in the media of persecution,
A black man who stood again before the cross
of persecution, who speaks for the soldiers,
who stand for freedom of life, when the
dictators presented his fate jail him, he has
over stepped his mean, to tell the dictators,
I am a man which is due to all man.

Meekness, simple laws of loving self;
the hero or the coward saving self;
The soul that dies a thousand times,
when the soul of will would die once.
Wave the Flag Black man, Wave the
Flag, Black and White stand together,
Brothers and Sisters hand and hand;
I thought once how my ancestors
Sing the sweet songs, of love
The souls that march upon the clouds,
And the sound of the ancient drums,
Humble the elders that carry the cross
to carry the crown to place upon the warriors heads.
The soldiers begins to beat the drums
And the spirits rise upon the clouds,
as I sing the Nubian anthem
the ancestors who brought me cross.




Through the struggles of a diversity, the constitution
Blackness was won, nevertheless the scars
Continue to bond after the glory was won.
In this mean less area of time, the image has stood the abomination of heroic bureaucracy the soldier who waved the banner, the battle of a lost generalized consumption of spineless association that brittles the thoughts of unity.

But while the image has stood the test of time, soldiery of confinement the soul has no strength of its own, what dose it takes for the image of a king, to stand up and claim his rightful place? Crying that the soul is governed by another, who has know power only if the mind allows, the glory came, and the definition of warrior has declined, the politics that led to that moment has been cast aside by cowardly conformity, if man who lives through another mans eyes of a hopeless survival, and the brother the savior who has given his life, that his brothers should walk the red carpet, the king that lied upon the cross, to give a devil greater power that has know control only if the mind gives it freely, Assassins of the abomination, and the treason of the glory, confinements of genocide amnesia; particularly known, as wisdom and spirituality, the by laws of God, the rainbow reflects the cries of the soul,
the dead roots which continues to dye slowly,
Helpless when the water sits upon the door,
Roots that refuse to save self.



If I must go down; a warrior of strength, Toussaint stands tall, he walk with dignity as he face the media of a lynch man rope, don’t be the one to pull, when the marksman steal your freedom, and laughs behind the back door, in title the submissive slave, In my observation of warrior, his words cry from the eyes of a true soldier, the rebirth of the warriors of freedom, freedom is not free, and a warrior will not bow down, honor my brother of the Caribbean land, A true Soldier is not a man unless he shedder of his blood, he walks with dignity, and the spirit of his souls speaks, let not my hierology speak of weakness, I will walk on the battlefield alone, as a man if I must, what is life if you can’t subside under the lynch men rope, He stands tall my black brother shall not go out In a cowardly conformity, he stood tall and took the burning bullet that man set before him, I shall die with dignity; Let not my horology speak of weakness I shall walk on the battlefield as a man what is life if I can't die like a man. Every man must die, so If I; I choose it as a King. A coward dies a thousand times but a brave man dies once. I shall not go out in a
cowardly conformity; I shall stand tall if I must. Take the burning bullet, which sets before my death. 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 I have fought for a cause; lies upon the dark; the inner man shall not awaken from the dark, the bite of the bullet is much to hot, the valley is closing in as I take a deep breath, the warrior is not a warrior; until he has shredded blood, words are a hopeless survival if the unite is divided, we shall all fall at once, under the emancipation of slaves, who continue to use the black race through the fire.

I shall dye nobly as my brother Jesus who laid upon the cross, if we must die, I shall take your hand; And we shall look upon the skies, as you my brother, As I ; we shall go at one time. Let not thee suffer, take the last breath, that I Shall march through the skies; There shall be no tears, I the soldier of God, Their shall be no pleading, I shall carry the cross; as my brother upon the skies, so I shall give back to thy brother who died for me. Grave that lies upon my trust; I shall not die, as the murders that stand Before me, when you speak of my death, you shall never remember a beginning plea; My body is just a carcass; but my spirit shall fly free life, beware of the walking dead, I shall not bow over.

But the tears that shall flow from my mothers eyes, It's not the coldness of my brother, Who kill me because he feels that 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,
However, the image a King you may believe in hope he has died,
in those terrifying screams of death around us
that remind me; another tribe castrated through the mind 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 in degradation of racial
hate, 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 They 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, Oh but the devils who planed
my death, there is a greater power than he,
I will meet you on the other side when you
feel that you have castrated me of my
manhood, be still serpent of Satan, the l
ord will speak, and when he do, you will see
the power you thought you had.

Oh 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, 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 your house of shame, I walk as a black man, speak as a black, and I shall rule as a black man on the other side of my fathers house.


The people has no say, children stolen and sold, without freedom of defense, every child worth 500,000 in grants, 18, 000 children in foster care, freedom taken away from the parents in control of their young, parents locked up when the child refuse to go to school, nevertheless parents are sanctions when they discipline their young,
Children are told to call authorities on the parents who give them life, to do or to dye, to dye are to live, wake up people, today the Blackman tomorrow the multi color rainbow, freedom know longer stands in this place call the land of the free.






Remarks By Roger Toussaint



With a $1 billion surplus, this contract between the M.T.A. and the Transport Workers Union should have been a no-brainer. Sadly, that has not been the case. Our contract expired on Thursday at midnight. In an attempt to save mass transit, and in deference to our riders, we postponed our deadline and attempted to continue talking to the M.T.A.
From the beginning, the M.T.A. approached these negotiations in bad faith, demanding arbitration even before trying to resolve the contract. Hours before the contract expiration, the M.T.A. got rid of its $1 billion surplus -- a surplus which we believe continues to be understated by some $100 million. The M.T.A. knew that attempting to reduce health and pension standards at the authority would be unacceptable to our union. They also knew that there was no good economic reason for their hard line on this issue -- not with a $1 billion surplus -- but they went ahead anyway. And they did this supported by the Bloomberg administration, which wants to overrun the municipal labor unions and all city workers and impose down-press wages and gutted health benefits and pension plans. This has been combined with attempts by the M.T.A., joined by the mayor and the governor, to intimidate and threaten our members and their families.

The Local 100 executive board has voted overwhelmingly to extend strike action to all M.T.A. properties immediately. All Local 100 representatives and shop stewards are directed to report to their assigned strike locations, picket lines or assigned locations nearest you immediately.
To our riders, we ask for your understanding and forbearance. We stood with you to keep token booths open, to keep conductors on the trains, to oppose fare hikes. We now ask that you stand with us. We did not want a strike, but evidently the M.T.A., the governor and the mayor did. We call on all good-willed New Yorkers, the labor community, and all working people to recognize that our strike is their fight and to rally in our support with activities and events in solidarity, and to show the M.T.A. the T.W.U. does not stand alone.
 

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