Black Poetry : We Ware The Mask


Well-Known Member
Jan 15, 2003
Brooklyn N. Y.
We Ware The Mask

In this abundance of hidden secrets
The pain continues to rise, upon the mask that gives no
Pleasure, the sure thing in this life is death,
And another is the loyalty to one God, above the skies,
Anything that lives beneath, without loyalty to God,
Is long suffering, there is no back door to the house
Of righteousness, nevertheless man makes and breaks
His codes of blackness, we wear the mask that smile and lies,
It closes our eyes and leaves us into the fog of dragoness,

This debt we pay to human ego, many who lives
Within the sub bionic tortures of self,
With sores of bleeding images that
Replenish the masters of mask,
We smile, and mouths of subtleties that
Dribbles from the tongue of mad dogs,
Why would this omissible place call earth,
Enduring the plea’s and degradations,
To beg and plea to a man who has not loyalist
Not even to self, through the chambers of 400 years,
Yet we continue to plea for the strength of others
Than self, if one crawl as a worm, so he be stepped on as such,

Oh but yet we smile, but, O great Christ the image
Of thee, the DNA is not worthy of your secrete image,
The betrayal of roots that cry out lies,
The tortured souls that lies upon the
Cemented roads, but yet we cry only for self,
We sing the black folks Athens song
But allow de’ children of roots long
Suffering without chose, to wear the
Hidden mask, self murder no respect
For the blood line that carries the
Documentarily of self-pride
Beneath de’ blooded hands
That forsakes the legacy land;
De psalms have no respect for the
Legend his homeland are stroll.
To thee from tortured souls arise.​


Lyon King Admin.
Mar 21, 2001
yes indeed the mask , as da souls rise .
tyte sista


Well-Known Member
Mar 18, 2006



Jul 2, 2003
So true. I like this flow.

I saw as a young child how everyone was not who they pretended to be in my eyes. I saw unhappy on top of a smile. I saw sadness in eyes. In movements and heard uneasyness in words.

So I asked my mother to explain. She said son in this world there are those who take. There Are those who suffer and those who make. I asked her to explain it more.

She said. I mean. There are selfish people out to get from you what ever they can. Use up your time, money and even take your life.

Those who allow this from any level are the sufferers. Now in some cases you can't do anything about it. So change what you can. The rest do all you can and give it up to God.

Then there are those who make a difference in this world. They are those who either have power already or come into power. They get influence and change starts to take place. It has to be gradual change for if those who are to make others suffer, notice the change. They will do things. Even murder to stop it.

So we ware the mask. To hide from those who would otherwise eliminate the leaders.


My mother has wisdom for the education level she was allowed to achieve and has. She was born in 1929. At the sixth grade she had to quit for black schools only went that far unless you left Tennessee. She also needed to quit so she could help around the family farm. She picked cotton. Feed the animals and grew up and worked cleaning as a domestic maid, cooking caring for, caring for whites children, serving them at their parties, working cleaning hotels and whites homes. You know the jobs our mothers did. That America claims no one wants. Well we don't. Construction. Carpet Laying. House painting and Landscaping is another thing. It is outright discrimination to excluded us from those mentioned jobs. Like they did in 1969 from the electronic and telecommunication boom. When all the Vietnamese immigrated here.

Her nine children retired her 35 years ago. At about the age of 40. She hasn't and never will have to work again. Unfortunate for my father and all of us love him dearly. For God said honor thy Mother and Father. So we do.

Does not have it as well. He didn't sacrifice for us like he could have. He wore a mask. The mask even fooled him. He thought life was grand in the streets. My mother told me the streets offered nothing but trouble. So I get in and out of the streets and leave those who club all the time and never form a social life ( a relationship that means something ) with their children and family out there.

I love my mothers hands. I love her feet. I love her smile and laugh. She wears no mask, and she keeps her soul at peace. She raised her nine as a tight bunch. Command goes up line, as well as down line.
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