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The Black Man
Monday woke to the sound of birds
And car engines roaring down the street
And with the dawn woke a bitter man
His cupboards were empty
His baby was hungry
His manual labour could not afford the rent
And outside a swastika was painted on his building
The skin of the man was black as coal
And the beard on his face remained unshaven
And the wells of his eyes were full with rage
His stomach was empty
His muscles were cramped
His gun it was loaded
And the man decided he wouldn’t go to work today
Outside, the day was a picture of beauty
And as the man stepped out he felt the sun
And he reflected on life in a jail cell
His brother sold crack
His sister sold herself
His gun was hidden
And a man in a suit spit as he passed
The streets were filling as he walked on
And he saw a woman clutch her purse tightly
And he watched a cop try to stare him down
His teeth were gritted
His lips stayed shut
His eyes found a billboard
And a white man was driving an expensive car
At the bank an open sign was being flipped
And the revolving glass doors spun and spun around
And the man entered without a disguise
His fingers reached a pocket
His hand withdrew the gun
His lips cried, “Stick ‘em up!”
And someone pushed a button below the counter
The wails of police sirens shattered the morning air
And the man dashed from the bank with a sack
And a shot was fired while a voice shouted somewhere
His knees sank to the pavement
His lips parted, then closed
His life bled out from a hole in his chest
And a cop said, “Damn niggers never learn.”
so true,i hate it that this is true!arghh...and it keeps going till the end.. ~drooping flowers~
~*Guinevere*~
three words that i can think of descibe this poem, amazing, beautiful and true. it's amazing just in itself adn beautifully written.and so damn true it's not even funny. racisim is far from dead, it's actually everywhere. i know that i see some form of racism everyday or at least everyother day somewhere close to where i live. anyways. i am glad you wrote this poem i loved it adn it reaches out to so many people. keep writing i love reading your poems.
that poem kicked ass!!!!!
Life is pretty much the same for the black woman, although I do think that the black man has it harder. I like your comments at the end of the poem. It makes you stop to think. In some small way, maybe this poem will bring about change.
Steve - racisim is not dead
and neither is any of the other
deadly social sins.
Racisim is not an american issue
but a Global issue. Up outside of the
hood and urban wars of our american landscape
is places like the middle east.
As far as racisim goes; we
are all tribal by nature. even if
we where all "white" or all "black"
we would still look for differences
inside the colors that makes us
superior or inferior. For example
let us look at Ireland or Bosnia.
Your poem is an intresting commentary
on things that need to be change to
improved to quality of life for all.
Love this poem. One more thing careful
with the "n" word in the streets -
some people are still a little sensitive
to the sound.
Keep writing - Keep the faith.