Black Men Live

I turn on the news to find two men talking about a new book called "Is Marriage For White People?" They ask the questionm should black women should settle for the current state of black men, since , supposedly, the black man's condition isn't ideal for marriage. This black author is asking black women to give up on finding a black man to avoid being in a bad relationship. I think the aurthor, Ralph Richard Banks, doesn't serve the God I do. I teach black men every day, because instead of giving up on black men, I breathe life into them.

A poem I wrote in honor of the black men that I will never lose faith in

"Black Men"
I went to three places and saw my men behind
Behind the cooking counter
Behind the storage unit
Behind the dumpster
Behind
My men shine
And work again to rule the land
They are the kings that gave her birth
Behind the desk, my men, they build
I hear God through my men’s cries
“I am a leader “
“I am the leader”
“My community is my mission”
“I am more than a statistic”
The princes’ calls are my peace
The bone
The beginning
My men are the revolution
Shall not they die
They are our future
Together, we conquer

Fuel

I went to get gas today. I felt like a soilder: eyes open in every direction. I was raised in a place where going to the gas station at night was something you do in groups. Alone, I arm myself in case conflict arises. On the floor of my car, I see some type of tool, along with tons of other things. I pick up the rusty weapon, and I place it in my pocket. I take my debit card out of my purse, placing the purse on the floor with my computer and the debit card firmly inside of my hand. I come from a place where you don't keep bags in your seat or your windows will get busted.

I try to use my debit card, but the machine isn't running. Running in the store, I feel silly for being so nervous. I relax as I have a friendly conversation with the cashier. He says it is supposed to get very cold tonight..(I wonder if that means that I won't have work.. In the south, when it gets too cold, we like to stay home...Or at least I do.)

I noticed a man on the side of the building. He was just standing there with no place to go. I wanted to save him. As I fueled up, the man before my eyes reminded me that I can go anywhere because I have a car with a powerful engine. I call her Honey. We speak in silence.

At the gas station, where I hold weapons tightly, I am inspired to drive.

Born: Identity

I’m not me
I is he
His actions are my reflection
I stir in his direction
If I is you
And you’s a fool
Then I’m the fool that lose
The most
I is, is who you are
From dirty clothes to busted cars
I’m the gas that consumes your ass
Ready to die
Lost: she cries.
Who am I, if I am he
Thought I would never not be a she
Until she opened herself to he
She once had identity
If she is I,
But I am you,
Then someone’s left with out a clue
Of who she is
That walks with he
A reflection of nothing. Plain. Empty.
If she can breathe
I’ll take her hand
Tell her she is more than just a man
If I am you
And you are me
Let’s hold hands
And set her free
I am you
You are me
Together forever: we.