Mercy mercy me.
My heart aches for a mess you will have to clean.
For a world you will have to trample through aimlessly.
Neighborhoods look more like graveyards.
Placards rest on the backside of cars like headstones.
We’re more dead now than anything.
Don’t forget to mourn us,
as we travel through the terrain of your mind.
There have been many poems written about you.
Don’t be afraid to read them.
One day you’ll open your front door
and find them resting in a hand woven basket,
like a once orphaned baby.
Cradle them.
You’ll need them.
Give them comfort inside the walls of your chest.
Let them call your heart home.
Cradle them.
Please.
They’ll need you.
People will try to write your story.
Believe me they have a way with words.
You’ll find them magic eraser your ancestors
in and out of history books.
Fight the urge to play victim.
Remember to never forget.
Mama and Daddy didn’t raise no fool.
And big mama aint risk her life
sneaking in the back of school to read no books,
spend all day picking cotton and shucking corn,
bathing somebody else’s children,
so you can sit back and let them take
what’s always been yours.
Remember to never forget.
She went without so that you could have
The power to make a choice
Right or left.
No or yes.
Your strongest weapon will always be your voice.
Use it wisely.
Don’t ever play sniper
assaulting others with daggers
from an unmarked corner of an unknown room.
They’ll use your innocence for target practice.
Do not play the coward.
Let your words come only from a spirit of confidence,
belting forcefully from the lower domains of your chest.
Something like that dream of Dr. King
that rolled off the mighty hills
and stone mountains of Georgia.
Do not be afraid to dream.
Don’t forget to love.
They will bombard your eyes with flashing news
of trendy styles, what’s to come and what was, what is.
Don’t ever be fooled into thinking that love is a passing trend.
It has undoubtedly been the only glue
holding what’s left of this world together.
Don’t be afraid to love.
Rip your chest open and pull your heart out for someone.
Be selfless.
Live boldly.
Stop and smell the roses.
Let its pollen seep into the vents of your nose
until you sneeze from it.
You’ll reek of it.
Marvel in springtime’s beautifulness.
If not for yourself,
do this in remembrance of me.
There have been many poems written about you.
Do not be afraid to read them.
One day you’ll open your front door
and find them resting in a hand woven basket.
Do not fear the possibility of your incapability
to nurture them properly
For you are doing exactly that right now.
Author Bio:
A graduate of the University of California, Irvine with a Bachelor’s in African American Studies as well as Claremont Graduate University with a Masters in Cultural Studies, Alex Tha Great (Given Real Encouragement Amongst Turmoil) is a spoken word artist, author, vocalist, actress originally from East Palo Alto, CA, now based in Dallas, TX. She has performed over the country since 2009 sharing stages with the likes of HBO Def Poets Joaquin Zihuatenejo and BessKepp, actress Irma P. Hall, and opening for R & B singer Noel Gourdin. In the fall of 2012, she released her collection of poems entitled Sticks and Stones Don’t Break My Bones. It carefully catalogues a wide range of political and personal texts employing long bluesy ballads and haikus. Her work has been published in Illya’s Honey and Bohemia. In the summer of 2012, she was especially inspired to formulate her own one-woman show Passport To Womanhood that is currently touring. Alex is a dynamite artist with a sincere passion and love for the art. She has future plans to enter a PhD program African American Studies and become a college professor. Some of the items on her bucket list include learning how to play the piano, starring in a Broadway musical, and riding an elephant. She lives by the motto: Live Life. Love Life. Be Blessed.
My heart aches for a mess you will have to clean.
For a world you will have to trample through aimlessly.
Neighborhoods look more like graveyards.
Placards rest on the backside of cars like headstones.
We’re more dead now than anything.
Don’t forget to mourn us,
as we travel through the terrain of your mind.
There have been many poems written about you.
Don’t be afraid to read them.
One day you’ll open your front door
and find them resting in a hand woven basket,
like a once orphaned baby.
Cradle them.
You’ll need them.
Give them comfort inside the walls of your chest.
Let them call your heart home.
Cradle them.
Please.
They’ll need you.
People will try to write your story.
Believe me they have a way with words.
You’ll find them magic eraser your ancestors
in and out of history books.
Fight the urge to play victim.
Remember to never forget.
Mama and Daddy didn’t raise no fool.
And big mama aint risk her life
sneaking in the back of school to read no books,
spend all day picking cotton and shucking corn,
bathing somebody else’s children,
so you can sit back and let them take
what’s always been yours.
Remember to never forget.
She went without so that you could have
The power to make a choice
Right or left.
No or yes.
Your strongest weapon will always be your voice.
Use it wisely.
Don’t ever play sniper
assaulting others with daggers
from an unmarked corner of an unknown room.
They’ll use your innocence for target practice.
Do not play the coward.
Let your words come only from a spirit of confidence,
belting forcefully from the lower domains of your chest.
Something like that dream of Dr. King
that rolled off the mighty hills
and stone mountains of Georgia.
Do not be afraid to dream.
Don’t forget to love.
They will bombard your eyes with flashing news
of trendy styles, what’s to come and what was, what is.
Don’t ever be fooled into thinking that love is a passing trend.
It has undoubtedly been the only glue
holding what’s left of this world together.
Don’t be afraid to love.
Rip your chest open and pull your heart out for someone.
Be selfless.
Live boldly.
Stop and smell the roses.
Let its pollen seep into the vents of your nose
until you sneeze from it.
You’ll reek of it.
Marvel in springtime’s beautifulness.
If not for yourself,
do this in remembrance of me.
There have been many poems written about you.
Do not be afraid to read them.
One day you’ll open your front door
and find them resting in a hand woven basket.
Do not fear the possibility of your incapability
to nurture them properly
For you are doing exactly that right now.
Author Bio:
A graduate of the University of California, Irvine with a Bachelor’s in African American Studies as well as Claremont Graduate University with a Masters in Cultural Studies, Alex Tha Great (Given Real Encouragement Amongst Turmoil) is a spoken word artist, author, vocalist, actress originally from East Palo Alto, CA, now based in Dallas, TX. She has performed over the country since 2009 sharing stages with the likes of HBO Def Poets Joaquin Zihuatenejo and BessKepp, actress Irma P. Hall, and opening for R & B singer Noel Gourdin. In the fall of 2012, she released her collection of poems entitled Sticks and Stones Don’t Break My Bones. It carefully catalogues a wide range of political and personal texts employing long bluesy ballads and haikus. Her work has been published in Illya’s Honey and Bohemia. In the summer of 2012, she was especially inspired to formulate her own one-woman show Passport To Womanhood that is currently touring. Alex is a dynamite artist with a sincere passion and love for the art. She has future plans to enter a PhD program African American Studies and become a college professor. Some of the items on her bucket list include learning how to play the piano, starring in a Broadway musical, and riding an elephant. She lives by the motto: Live Life. Love Life. Be Blessed.
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