Social Anger of the Black Poetic Mind

I feel we should all be tired of losing our children to these evil streets. We should all be sick of the heartache that makes mothers scream and fathers weep? To be honest, the poet in me is tired. I wake up nightly out of my sleep. My creative mind is troubled and seeking to find some peace. In the past, I have written about the general dismissiveness

As our politicians continue to make mistakes. I have scribed the genocidal epitaph of the victims of murderous hate. I tried to bring elucidation about the lives and family we have lost. It is hard to add up the price of what each lost life has cost. Lately, I find myself writing the thoughts of a father's fearful mind. You see I cannot hide the dread. It will not be held down deep inside. I think about my children growing up in the land of the bigoted gun. A nation where cops kill black families by murdering their only sons. I pity my children's existence in a world eviscerated by sociological decay. I pray that they stay strong as the world attempts to steal their dreams away. I am haunted by my thoughts as citizens continue to kill, rape, and sin. Ashamed I pause to consider, "Do these fears haunt the hearts and minds of white men? Do they sit up with fear and worry inside the pitiless night? Do they wonder if society will rob their children of a decent life? To me, it seems their privilege means more than the life of our black youth. Whites continue to bellyache and complain whenever light shines on the truth. Blacks die a million deaths as bigots gleefully live a million lies. They revel in Alt-Right Supremacy while our children continue to die. As a black man, I fear the loss of all we have fought so hard to gain. I can't help but reflect on slaves that gave up everything so their families wouldn't be slain. They worked hard in the faith despite being murdered and defiled. They worked under butchers that would willfully kill their child. Bigots saw blacks as beasts, and this justified their deadly sins. Blacks were cold-blooded animals that masqueraded as decent men. The sins of hateful white privileged leave a mark on our American lives. Today we still see the fruits of their evil play out in front of our eyes. Our American youth are infected and kill for petty slights and jeers. Murder is the answer to every objection, hurt, and irrational fear. Tears mean nothing; as personal pride and selfishness reign supreme. The result is that no culture fully lives the American Dream. I wish there were love in this pseudo-land of equality and glory. However, the poet inside me cannot make up that wondrous story. No, inside I am just as angry and infected by our communal hate. Even the innocent are affected by the anger of watching men take. I am tired of the lies that deliberately give an ignorant altered truth. Lies pervert our understanding and trigger ignorance in our youth. I wish we could rekindle the ideals declared in the American Dream. I wish we could let go of our hatred with one primordial scream. I wish a scream could free up our minds and free our troubled souls. Then we could all come together to make this country safe & whole. The poet's mind tells me these are old wishes of a scared father and black man! My people have waited for the same promise since America began. I feel the poet inside is losing the belief in America's dream. My mind is angry and frustrated by all the evidence it has seen. Langston Hughes once asked, What happens to a dream deferred?" Today we ask another question, "What happens when the dream never occurs?" The answer lies in our future. I don't know how long we will last. I just know that if we cannot find brotherhood, We will revert to the destruction of our brutal past. © 2017 Eddie K. Phillips