Social Anger of the Black Poetic Mind

We should all be tired of losing our children to these evil streets.

We must stop this pain that makes mothers scream and fathers weep.

To be honest, the poet in me is tired. I wake nightly out of my sleep.

My poetic mind is troubled and seeks words to find some peace.

In the past, I have written about our country's social dismissiveness.

I have criticized how our callous politicians continue to make mistakes.

I have scribed the genocidal epitaph of the victims of murderous hate.

I tried to bring elucidation about the lives and families we have lost.

However, it is hard to add up the price of what each lost life has cost.

I often find myself writing the thoughts of a Black father's fearful mind.

You see, I cannot hide my dread. It will not be held down deep inside.

I think about my children growing up in the land of the bigoted gun. 

A nation where cops kill Black families by murdering their beloved sons.

I pity my children's existence in a world eviscerated by social decay.

I pray they stay strong as malicious people attempt to steal them away. 

I am haunted by my thoughts as racists continue to kill, rape, and sin.

Ashamed, I pause to consider: 

"Do these fears haunt the hearts and minds of White men?

Do privileged White fathers sit up with fear inside the pitiless night?

Do they worry about society robbing their children of a decent life?

It seems their privilege means more than the life of our black youth.

They bellyache and complain when the light shines on the racist truth.

Blacks die a million deaths while bigots gleefully live a million lies.

They revel in Alt-Right Supremacy while our children continue to die.

As a Black man, I fear the loss of all we have fought so hard to gain.

Our ancestors didn't give up everything so their families could be slain.

They lived by hope and faith despite being murdered and defiled.

They worked for murderous racists that would willfully kill a child.

Bigots saw Blacks as beasts, and this justified their deadly sins.

Blacks were cold-blooded animals that simply masqueraded as men.

The sins of the hateful privilege leave a mark on our American lives.

Today we see the fruits of their evil play out in front of our eyes.

Our youth are jaded and kill others for petty slights and jeers.

Murder is the answer to every objection, hurt, and irrational fear.

Tears mean nothing, as pride and selfishness reign supreme.

The result is that only some cultures fully live the American Dream.

I pray for agape love in this pseudo-land of equality and false glory.

However, everyday racist citizens willfully rewrite the American story.

It is hard to not be angry and infected by their communal hate.

Even the innocent can be affected by the anger of watching men take.

I am tired of their lies that deliberately give an ignorant altered truth.

The lies pervert our understanding and spur ignorance in our youth.

I wish we could validate the ideals declared by the American Dream.

I wish we could let go of our hatred with one loud unbridled scream.

I wish the primal scream could free our minds and troubled souls.

Then we all could unite and make this country safe and whole.

The poet's mind says these are wishes of every faithful Black man.

Our people have waited for a societal change since America began.

However, the poet inside me fears losing the belief in America's dream.

He wrestles with cognitive dissonance about everything he has seen.

Langston Hughes once asked, 

"What happens to a dream deferred?"

Today we ask another question, 

"What happens when the dream never occurs?"

The answer lies in our future, which moves beyond our evil past.

We must find a common brotherhood, or this country will not last.

© 2017 Eddie K. Phillips

Reviews

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Poignant, powerful and important poem. Life and death issues from a black poet's perspective, penned eloquently, honestly, emotionally, wearily. Weary of the ignorance and rhetoric that change nothing.Fearful of the future for the children and the country. Great flow, rhythm and rhyme. These words need to be heard ""What happens when the dream never occurs?"...I hope we never have to find out. Thank you for this poem.

[Eddie Phillips]

Thank you for reading and connecting with the frustration of my message. Writers are supposed to relate the truth and pain of the environment. I wanted to give words to my frustration.

[Donna]

This has so much feeling, anger and truth. Excellent writing Eddie!

[Eddie Phillips]

Thank you. This poem still haunts me. We have to do better for the sake of our children.

[Donna]

Your right! I like the way you express yourself. Nobody is superior over anybody. We are humans and we all need to be treated equally. Its 2018!!

[Seeker]

This is so powerful a cry in the wilderness. A sad reminder of the futility of speaking truth to power, when power itself symbolizes injustice and hypocrisy at home and abroad. A power that denies the provisions of its social contract in their entirety to Others. "It comes as a great shock around the age of 5, 6, or 7 to discover that the flag to which you have pledged allegiance, along with everybody else, has not pledged allegiance to you" --- James Baldwin. My brief poem, "The Color of Justice" has some parallels, but nowhere near as eloquent, I must admit. But we are on the same page, if you find the time to read it. Yours is a very moving poem, Eddie.

[Madame Murrell]

Langston Hughes once asked, What happens to a dream deferred?"
Today we ask another question, "What happens when the dream never occurs?"

-This line was so deep and hit home for me. Love this poem

[Eddie Phillips]

We are living in a time of turmoil and dreams that inspire seem to reach men and women less. Thank you for reading this poem and connecting with the message.