~*2Deep*~

Twitter Poetry : Remembrance

In Writer's Block on 16 November 2011 at 2:27 pm

Today is a new day and therefore it means a new poem. I wanted to write about whatever was the first thing that came to my mind. It was a little difficult writing with more than one person because they were responding to the same line and so in some places I feel it got out of sync. But I already have a remedy for that the next time. Over all… I am still loving the Twitter Poetry idea.

I got the help of two wonderful gentleman who inspired me to write; OneCann and NotebooKKTatted. What awesome writers they are. I hope that you like. I had a blast. Thanks for reading.

Remembrance by: 2Deep, @OneCann & @notebooKKTatted

Each day is a reminder

that our ancestors would bitch slap us if they knew

that THIS is what they marched for,

 sped up their meeting w/ God for

O: tore up their backs with cracks of whips

as a pound of flesh was ripped

so we could keep track of shit that doesn’t matter

N: not too happy that they marched for free dumb niggas

freedom to call women bitches

same mentality with a freedom livin’

Died to read,

hung from the very trees later cut down

to make the books that blacks now refuse to read.

History hung like rappers’ chains

O: gained nothing but the pain of stained pages in neglected chapters

that are forgotten shortly after we’ve been forced to read it

They never told us how they made it to the mountain top,

kept the ingredients to the taste of Birmingham tap water

tucked in the back of buses

N: guarded by only the tired legs of one old woman

who refused to give up her seat

move her feet

or give way to anything but exhaustion

O: her loss caused our gains

as the names of churches went up in flames

while a king sat meditating in balls and chains.

Dreaming of the day when he could stop little black girls

and little white boys

from growing into Niggers and Bigots

who would one day wake up from said dream

N: but til he does his slumbering message resonates in waking lives,

taking lives was never the plan

he always knew he was JUST a man

With JUST a plan

tucked in the conductors back pocket

on the tracks of Amtrak’s predecessor.

Muffled passengers headed to the promised land…again

N: or numbers and digits used 2 calculate the amount of hate in the world

the fate of the world lies in hands only big enough to grasp sadness

Deep below the decibel of the overseer’s ears

Swing low

Sweet Modern Negro

Taste the purpose of why we ate chitterlings & pig’s feet

N: ‘cause anything else was too good for slaves

to the mindset that freedom was worth it

and the fight would never be defeated by death

Strange Fruit never tasted so ripe as it does with remembrance,

wrapped in the season of correction,

standing for something

N: and falling for nothing if not in love with the idea that things could change other than minds and currency

O: now negro spirituals have given way to minstrel shows.

We sell our souls

and never know what we’ve sold it for.

Keep the receipt.

Remember from whence you came

& head towards where you shall go

with the memory of our ancestors sweat,

blood,

tears.

Go forth… and do this in remembrance of them

I think that this poem has a very deep message. A call of truth, I would say. Let us know what you think below. God bless!

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