
We celebrate the birthday, June 7th, of one of our most distinguished poets, Gwendolyn Brooks. She would have been 100 years young. Born in Topeka, KS, she grew up in Chicago and published her first poem at 13. Brooks was the winner of the 1950 Pulitzer Prize for her collection Annie Allen, the first African American to win that award. Throughout her career she received many more honors, such as being named Poet Laureate to the Library of Congress in 1985, having her image on a US postage stamp, and being presented with the 1995 National Medal of Arts. Her characters were often drawn from the inner city life that Brooks knew well. She once said, "I lived in a small second-floor apartment at the corner, and I could look first on one side and then the other. There was my material.” So let’s celebrate the woman who wrote: "I am interested in telling my particular truth as I have seen it."
Primer for Blacks
by Gwendolyn Brooks
is a title,
is a preoccupation,
is a commitment Blacks
are to comprehend—
and in which you are
to perceive your Glory.
The conscious shout
of all that is white
is
“It’s Great to be
white.”
The conscious shout
of the slack in Black
is
"It's Great to be
white."
Thus all that is white
has white strength and
yours.
The word Black
has geographic power,
pulls everybody in:
Blacks here—
Blacks there—
Blacks wherever they may
be.
And remember, you Blacks,
what they told you—
remember your
Education:
“one Drop—one Drop
maketh a brand new
Black.”
Oh
mighty Drop.
______And because they have
given us kindly
so many more of our
people
Blackness
stretches over the
land.
Blackness—
the Black of it,
the rust-red of it,
the milk and cream of
it,
the tan and yellow-tan of
it,
the deep-brown middle-brown
high-brown of it,
the “olive” and ochre of it—
Blackness
marches on.
The huge, the pungent object
of our prime out-ride
is to Comprehend,
to salute and to Love the
fact that we are Black,
which is our
“ultimate Reality,”
which is the lone
ground
from which our meaningful
metamorphosis,
from which our prosperous
staccato,
group or individual, can
rise.
Self-shriveled Blacks.
Begin with gaunt and
marvelous concession:
YOU are our costume and our
fundamental bone.
All
of you—
you
COLORED ones,
you
NEGRO ones,
those of you who proudly
cry
“I’m
half INDian”—
those
of you who proudly screech
“I’VE
got the blood of George WASHington in MY veins”
ALL
of you—
you
proper Blacks,
you
half-Blacks,
you
wish-I-weren’t Blacks,
Niggeroes
and Niggerenes.
You.
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Ajitto, Robert Maplethorppe, 1981 |
The Whips That Striped the Backs of
Slaves
by Levi Mericle
The whips that striped the backs of slaves so millionaire masas
could feel fulfilled.
How dare we?
The policemen’s club and pepper spray that mocked the actions of
the Civil Rights Act –
by making a mockery of flesh and blood.
How dare we?
I want you to take a knife and run it across the palm of your
hand
and tell me that the black person sitting next to you bleeds
differently.
How dare we?
This isn’t about just listening to the police
but it’s about the police being justified beyond what justifies a
race.
It’s as if our gun is pointed to the preference of skin color
more than a preface of a crime.
How dare we?
Time places a border between our differences, I know.
You may try to make yourself think and believe that we are much
improved
And yes that’s true.
But until you can look at the black man your daughter’s about to
marry
without your stomach churning,
you have no right telling me black lives matter.
Until you’ll let your young white son date a little black girl in
middle school
don’t you dare tell me we are different.
It has nothing to do with time,
it has nothing to do with “LIVES MATTER”
it has to do with you removing the bigoted sunglasses you’ve been
wearing.
Because when I walk outside I see a bright blue sky
and a pitch black night,
I see a rainbow when it rains
And people living and breathing in our world.
Because black lives matter.
So can you just lower your weapon of hostility and recreate your
heart to listen with your eyes.
And don’t scrutinize.
Until you can erase all the past from your mind
and see the lives right here,
right now as equals,
don’t tell me we are different.
Levi J. Mericle is a poet/spoken-word
artist, lyricist, and fiction writer from Tucumcari, NM. His work has appeared
in many anthologies and literary magazines and journals, such as Black Heart Magazine, Apricity Magazine, Mused, Flash Fiction Magazine, eFiction India, Awakenings Review, and the University of Madrid’s literary journal. He is an advocate for human rights and for the anti-bullying
movement.
Finally someone spoke for africans. It great to see that. Otherwise blacks are so discouraged due to racism. Now they have a platform to show their talent. Great!
ReplyDeleteawesome poetry and paintings!while i reciting and practicing the poems,i got chance to really understands,what it means.the poempollock' lavender mist is just amazing.keep sharing more with this.
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