Poets

The Black Plague

Truth!

As the youth open their eyes to the lies told by history teachers, my truth comes in and shakes the earth with a mighty thump, like the sound of a lie breaking. The greater the lie, the greater the thump roars, until eventually you can’t hear straight anymore. While the voices of truth grow stronger and the sound of the lies grows weaker, then and only then… you will have to make a choice. Stand firmly on that mountain of lies, or have your world spun around by the truth like a matrix scene, only this is not a movie. Only the strong will break the cycle, only the curious will know the truth. The brown skin faces that bring tears to my eyes are of the poor that are caught up in the never ending product of the men who yearn for power. The men that will lead the innocent into the arms of hunger, sickness, and mental imprisonment to fulfill their destiny. The men who disregard the human rights once thought to be self evident in the midst of western enlightenment, “that all men were created equal”. I’ve stood there in the dark, questing for a way to open the doors of truth, so to let some light in my home. With no help from my government, and no sanction for my cause, I had to find my own way to what is right. I have also realized that I cannot do it alone! Can you help me find the door, or maybe even turn the knob that will set us both free? Make a choice…. make it soon…… before there is no light to open your eyes to.

The Black Plague

For the Love of Poetry

Blatant Misses

Black Plague Black Plague, where are you?

They call me Blatant Misses but I am a black plague too;

Oh yes, let’s get that out the way, I’m Black… please don’t’ shoot

Let me spit thoughts to these ignorant minds like sperm when ejaculated at an orgasmic peak,

Using the truth as my shield, my beliefs as my stance and my mouth as my firearms

I spit realness where sometimes real has to ask, “Yo, where did that shit come from “

Cause understand, I’m a poet first, a lady second… that’s probably why they call me Blatant Misses

Obama, Obama, where art thou?

I am the future so I guess I’m Obama too

He’s black, please don’t shoot

Please don’t mistake or mis- take him as a hoodlum because they come in all colors, Bush is more reckless than ever, invading a country with no reasonable cause

And just cause I bump fists when I’m feeling something that’s hot Don’t think I don’t know a lot

That I’m a miseducated misfit destined to fit your constricted identity and you want me to identify with this, but I only am what I answer to

So call me a Nigga, call me a Terrorist

Knowing that Republicans are the real terrorists, having terrorized international countries about so called Weapons of Mass Destruction, oil, yea, yea, whatever

cause the same mutherfuckers who blew up the Towers has 7% of American business power

And Bush, Mc Cain, and Palin, 3 assholes in a pod,

EMPLOYMENT, EDUCATION AND ECONOMY ARE DOWN!!!

The only things up are jail rates, police brutality, gas prices, and, of course, McCain’s age

And when that nigga die, we’ll be stuck with the bitch with the winking problem like she’s in her teen age phase

And just cause you hear the Caribbean accent, don’t assume I’m not a resident

Cause I am Obama, I’m fucking good enough to be President!

And who’s better than to turn this economy around. but a Black man, who can always turn nothing into something flip, stack and get around this bitch

And black people, even though it’s against our beliefs, it’s about time we snitch!

Not from the NYPD institution, but constitutionally,

Why is there a question mark after this, Mr. Officer?

I’m’ Black, please don’t shoot ...Question Mark?

What, stop think about it?

We need Obama in office, I’m sick of the Bullshit

And they gonna keep hearing my mouth unless they kill me

Cause we are black plagues, he is the Black Plague, I am Blatant Misses

We do this for the love of truth, the love of freedom

We are For the Love of Poetry

Jerry Laroque

Another day, Another tie, Another shirt,
flirtin wit this 9 to 5 that won't pay me what I'm worth.
half my mind is perturbed enthusiasm's a blur
and I can't make sense of what came first was it the liquor or the curb.
So like liquor distilled in a rocks glass I'm like a nigga standing still watching his life pass
watching me.
A cup ah clear makes it hards to see so I'm probably pondering my latest quandry
why lack monoply? Would I be sloppily squandering aristocracy gathering fast cash
commitin a highway robbery.
I'm a gentleman not much of a hard-rock life ain't even that much of a hard-knock but I'm sick.
In my M.J. dayz but should be benched for throwing bricks the prime-time of my age wishing I could freeze my wrist.
Picture that or Rather this
To co-exist; donating my bottom dollar to a moment in time bliss.
I think timeless, 10 years from now pissin out the same fix it be the story of a future King who got his name frisked.
Oh the irony!!!
Kings with bum mentalities are paupers who think they've made it but it ain't where you from its where your aiming; I've been around long enough to see where lack of hustle takes men
the slaughterhouse of failure where it slays them;
No name a damn shame is how it paints them, defeat is not my destiny but I feel my faith wavering.
At a days end I sit with a drink and think I should be higher; In fact I should be so high out of sight out of spite the atmosphere would cut my air supply Why?
Cuz I'm simply so dope I should be dead, but I've been dupped by monotiny to becoming synthetic instead.
But my head is indecent exposure; scrutinizing smut, drinking booz, and wheezing blacks if I don't try something to fill theses gaps I'm reminded of my setbacks.
Turned off by living below the average line so I did the impossible and converted a nickel trick into a dime.
As I wiped the mud off her cheek with the sweat of my brow she beamed at me, Immediately I got an erection, noticed a slight change in her facial expression that reflected mine, quietly she thought to herself its about time, I told you things would change if you treated me better instead you thought I was out to get yah.
At that moment I pulled her close and carressed her; As a sign of endearment, gently I bit her lower lip sweet, supple, and thick like apple pie on a cumulus cloud.
Thanking GOD I kissed the sky.
Felt a breeze in her
smile like a ray of sunshine seen on the slit of her lips, full tits like pomegranites I've been longing to kiss; bottom shaped like an apple plucked from the tree of life.
To sum into one word shorty was effortless.
And as if reading my mind she whispered touch me, desirefull I approached
to grant her request, unabashed I unbridled my tongue to massage the fruits of her chest.
Till the the words "live forever" permanently stained my breathe.
We menaged wit the real,
stress,
and consistency
I told her she wasn't a regular chick to me she was a kin to me
She said no I'm the love you put into me
Now day in and day out I give her the stroke off my back
this dime I'm talking bout is life and everyday we climax.

Definition

Whispers of a Lonely Soul

My mother birthed an experiment that went wrong
like a stillbirth breeching through the tunnels of love
suddenly gasping for breath from the heavens
filtering through the body beating the brain and allowing the heart to think
This writer toils harder than construction workers
laboring triple overtime for life sentences en Saharan heat
I told the heroin addicts to place my blood en their spoons
and all the crack-heads and ecstasy-paradise travelers became jealous
as the smack-fiends overdosed, since all the others wanted
to go to a place where they could actually bring peace en their rest
and visit the heaven they have been promised
even if it was for only as long as their first high

But I’m addicted to black love and the beauty of our sistas
Not smelling their smiles or tasting their laughter
my mind and life go through withdrawal trying to
save the instances downed en their fermentation of joy
while others darken their spirits allowing their souls drenched en light liquors
raining en their cups from too much humidity
I reminisce on how I’m so skinny that when my back is pressed against walls
and my heart whispers to my body, my Lockes dance en response
Growing up, people always lipped I had a fresh mouth
yet I never replied they had brains thinking on crutches
or, “Doesn’t it wonderfully complement the engines en my mind
where neurons moved faster than V12 glitches on meth?”
Dreaming so hard, my pillows soaked my thoughts
softening with every scene helping me monitor nocturnal music
as the stars came out trying to thief my ideas, building solar systems away
making me feel so good, it is hard to discontinue
my subconscious prayers, trying to interpret Holy visions

Destroy the negative and leave not an empty lot
but create happiness from it that others can peel off
and boil en their pots and pans of love and happiness
feeding the hunger beating against their friends’ hearts
Still, make sure that what you designed reflect starfish
after entire neighborhoods came receiving precious alms
that their shadows’ dances mimic the motions of tide-waves set off
by the moonlight, making love to the air, you feel as tender breezes
through your bedroom window, dreaming of the magnificence you developed
listening to God’s voice, coming en the form of little black girls
resembling the last branch of Solomon’s family-tree
I took a leaf making light strokes with a number-two pencil and scrap paper over it
So my picture could tell you, keep your eyes open
because the greatest sounds you will ever hear flash en the lobes of your heart
My dreams are invisible, yet as I tell them
I add color to my tongue, painting the memories left breathless on your eardrums
My thoughts are the smallest things changing the ways of their injured world
helping it balance on one leg supporting the altering axes
of seasons growing into others, hoping I place this universe’s behaviors
on the sofa, as I scribble remedies en my poetry books
until defining beautiful and gorgeous epidemics
plaguing aliens on planet organizations
I could never exercise my thoughts’ muscles
within the gymnasiums en the spirit of my humble mind
I urinate my ideas like a lyrically alcoholic diabetic
onto classical statutes just to make them modern art
while the wetness snowboards from your eyes recognizing their beauty
settling into the cracks of your mouths, cuddling on your taste-buds
just so they could feel good, having a place they could call home