poetry:
Black people aways lived in the lions den,
we never misunderstood our enemy’s but loved our friends,
some things in life can’t make us comprehen like why hateful playful people want to darken their skin.
many tried to fold and break us but never could we bend,
singing songs from the church house to the second floor of the pen,
shedding tears to wash away the sin,
funny how same people who hug me they judge me,
acting like they above me.
back in the days it was a white mans world and a black mans grief,
now a days its a whitemans nightmare and a black mans relief so yes we have increased,
Its our women hour to be empowered for they are Allah’s most precious flowers..
no more hiding in the shadows of being a coward love is sweet hate is sour,
so as we witness the wicked that get devoured I expect to get knocked down like the twin towers,
but I as a black man will rise again as the sun do in the east,
because I understand I am always fighting like a warrior so my people would not be food in the belly of the beast..
these are the life of our days we pierce the water with rocks to see the waves,
nomore walking blindly through a maze,
don’t let your duty trump your loyalty we was born from royalty,
Everytime we close our eyes and open them up we rewrite black poetry.
Nolonger am I’m a slave,
my ancestors is the reason why this road have been paved now I can left up my head and allow my voice to be raised,
I praise my higher power yet I honor the ones who marched for me while showing me the definition of being black and brave,
they layed their life down for righteous and embrace an early grave.
peace to the true and living
ANTHONY WATERS
DOC #720-786
