Tag Archive | poetry

POEM: No More Sacred Spaces

Safe Passage

There are no more sacred spaces,

Just look at all the faces

Lost in a haze of confusion

Finding out safety is just an illusion

When children go to school to learn

And find bullets are all that they’ve earned

Finding no safe place to hide

As munitions come in at all sides

 

There are no more sacred spaces

Just look at all the faces

As they go to worship in churches

And a gunman uses pews as perches

To snuff out everyone he sees

And receives a meal for his deeds

The ultimate sanctity has been broken

Shooting up a church is an unspoken

Betrayal of all that is holy and civil

Peace shattered by a psycho

 

There are no more sacred spaces

Just look at all the faces

Their eyes are permanently dilated

Scarred by evil incinerate

Going to work is a clear and present danger

When a coworker uses guns to express anger

And blood begins to flow like rain

Never to earn a living again

Because they came in to make a living

Just to be murdered by a cold-hearted villain

 

There are no more sacred spaces

Just look at all the faces

Children are no longer safe at home

But instead, shed blood and bone

As parents commit filicide

Driving off cliffs into ocean tides

Or stuffing them into couches to smother

Or being molested or harmed by mom’s lover

Leaving more questions than answers

A sickness that spreads like cancer

By system too broken to protect

Those suffering abuse and neglect

 

There are no more sacred spaces

Just look at all the faces

As they exist within their own skin

On a scale that deems darkness a sin

When they see those flashing lights

And their guilt is deemed by flight

And bullets blaze all around them

Murdered by cops forever condemning

Dark skin to death due to cowardly fear

Only to walk away when the smoke has cleared

 

There are no more sacred spaces

Just look at all the faces

As they celebrate in a marathon crowd

Or an outdoor concert celebrating loudly

Oblivious to the impending peril

Of ticking bombs or the sights of a gun barrel

Victimized by a cruel declining civilization

As powers-that-be argue over legislation

While we witness the castration

Of the peace of a powerful nation

 

There are no more sacred spaces

Just look at all the faces

That vote on the whim of hope

Our way of life is on a slippery slope

Because we took our eyes off the prize

Valuing wealth over human life

Sacred spaces are dissipating

As the nation is segregating

And as our children are dying

And evil continues its uprising

 

There are no more sacred spaces

Just look at all the faces

As they look to us for solutions

To put an end to all the pollution

All we can do is pray

That it will not remain this way

©2018 Kim R Woods All Rights Reserved

 

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POEM: Battle Road

Battle Road

Remember many years ago when you were just a young boy

And your only concern was candy, games, and toys?

You did not have a single care in this world,

For at your mother’s breast you were cared for and nurtured.

But as you became older and grew into your teens,

You began to realize that life was not all that it seemed.

As you careened your way into manhood, your path was not quite paved,

You lived by your own terms and there were prices that you paid.

It was then that you began to see the outcome of your heavy loads,

Childhood was suddenly gone, and you found yourself on the Battle Road.

It is a road on which all boys must travel as a young man,

With time on your side and your future in your hands.

It is where you take your hard knocks and learn the value of your life,

To your credit you endured all the pitfalls and stayed in the fight.

Perseverance, love and faith are the marks of the manhood code,

For without them you would not have survived on the Battle Road.

Now older and wiser you have paid your dues,

And you can now live your life as you so choose.

Because your trials did not kill you… they only made you stronger,

There is an awareness of your existence you did not have when you were younger.

You have reached a milestone that continues to pave your way,

Your feet have become steadier… you no longer bend and sway.

Your convictions are more steadfast, your integrity more secured,

Life now tells the story of all the personal wars you have endured.

So cross over into this milestone with triumph and expectancy,

For within you are the visions that will soon become your legacy.

And be proud that you crossed over it… you will now reap the mother lode,

Because only a man can say that he overcame the Battle Road.

 

 

 

 

©July 2005 Kim Woods
All rights preserved

The Love of a Black Man

 

 

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 PDF LINK:   The Love of a Black Man

Because you are loved. Keep your heads up!

The love of a black man is like no other
Because in him there is an essence of
The unknown and power unseen
His hands are like an iron mitt with just enough soft
To melt us like snow
His lips are full and strong
And taste like a promise unfulfilled
In his love is character of true
True to the knowledge of who he is
True to the passage of roads he’s seen
True to the fulfillment of his dreams
Because, you see
When he looks at you, he sees his destiny
The love of a black man is limitless
When he knows of himself
It reeks of a feral masculine scent
That is but a touch away
A glance away
Oh but when he looks at you what does he see?
His ability to be himself?
When the day is done and the mask is off
Can he be not the man the everyone else sees but …
Who you see?
And, when troubles rain down
Like an endless torrent of woe
When he begins to question his worth
It the money right
Is his status tight?
And there’s not enough time to catch a breath
Can he cry in arms of understanding?
Or be judged a punk or a loser
As time immoral has judged him so
In your eyes will he see a mirror of himself?
Oh but the love of a black man is fleeting and yet so real
It reeks of a long day’s work
And brandy
And calloused hands that caress so sweet
And heat that envelopes a dream
His love is long and strong and hard and … oh!
Did you feel that?
Was it the way he kissed or licked or gripped?
Was it the way he looked into your eyes when he
Oh! Discovered that he was home
The love of a black man is fragile
Like dropping a rock on a deck of cards
It is not self-sustaining
It is the rarest of all finds
And requires strength to hold
Because his back is strong
It holds the cares of his love and…
Needs to strength of
Softness to remind him
That he loves not in vain
And to encourage him that
The whips and chains of his
Own struggles
Cannot taint his heart
And, if all is good you will take flight
In his world that knows true
Because the love of a black man
Is you

(c)2011 Kim Rosemon Woods
all rights reserved

Babies In the Battlefield

Babies on the Battlefield

Babies in the battlefield

 

A war is ablaze within our midst destroying all that we hold dear

Bullets are flying everywhere, leaving imminent death and tears

Little casualties are unaware that they are caught in the quagmire

They have no captain to lead them and no guns with which to return fire

 

The casualties of this war are many – there are no bullet-proof shields

There is a clear and present danger for our babies on the battlefield

Not fully grown and yet their lives are diminished much too soon

Because of cowards who hide behind guns – full of anger all consuming

 

To them life has no meaning – they just aim and pull the trigger

When they miss their target, an innocent life goes out with a final flicker

Their assassins’ hearts are cold—with souls devoid of the capacity to feel

And then we are left with the lifeless bodies of our babies on the battlefield

 

After all, selling dope and making money is the most important thing

Shootouts to guard posse and turf outweighs the decimation they bring

They build empires off the flesh and blood of our dying communities

Then spend all the money and die without leaving an enduring legacy

 

The pain they cause just to prove affiliation to a group of spineless cowards

So weak minded they lack the mettle to fight without guns and crowds

Our children pay the ultimate price – they did not chose this life

But for gangs, drugs, and money, they get to pay the ultimate price

 

Our brave soldiers are sent overseas to fight for other lands’ rights to be free

But here at home the war intensifies and cowards are claiming our babies

Terrorism runs rampant and no one seems to be doing anything

People continue to die as dope lords become their puppet kings

 

Multimillion-dollar prisons are erected to fight the ‘war on drugs’

Instead of using it for education and preventing kids from becoming thugs

Who, then breed more generations of children who kill to achieve ‘juice’ status

As they slaughter each other on barren fields warring against enemy factions

 

Communities are held hostage because no one wants to be labeled a squealer

But they blame law enforcement because they can’t catch the killers and dealers

The tragedy of individual apathy is the reason our children are dying daily

Slamming doors to law enforcement only allows crime to thrive and prevail

 

The rate at which our babies perish is painfully surreal

Our own black men are killing babies on the battlefield

This plight will end when we stop pretending the solution is not in our hands

So stand up tall and make the call that will heal our bleeding lands

Communities will become strong, violence ends, and we can begin to heal

And no longer will our babies perish on the battlefield

 

 

©2012 Kim Rosemon-Woods

All rights reserved