Cross

My old man's a white old man
And my old mother's black.
If ever I cursed my white old man
I take my curses back.
If ever I cursed my black old mother
And wished she were in hell,
I'm sorry for that evil wish
And now I wish her well
My old man died in a fine big house.
My ma died in a shack.
I wonder were I'm going to die,
Being neither white nor black?

By: Langston Hughes

Ode to my Brothahs...

This is my Ode to all the Brothahs out there because - you inspired me...
(Soul-Mate by Monica Stewart)
What is it about the man that stirs me so?
From his eyes to his lips to the depth of my soul
an awkward connection is made from him to me.
Causing me to tremble from my naps to the soles of my feet.
In he walks
(and unknowingly) my soul he stalks.
Whether he be ebony, chocolate, or caramel,
just by his presence my spirit melts.
Music flows from his voice and I begin to sweat.
My memories scream for him though we hardly even met.
What is it about the man that stirs me so?

Trying for a clue, but I just don't know.
'Cause whether he be tall, short, big, or lean
it's no matter - still, my insides scream.
Smile for me and I'm set on fire
Say something – about nothing – and immediately I'm wired
to who you could possibly be…who you are.
There's just something about you, black man, that resembles art
makes me stop and calls to my heart.

In my shoes, my feet are wet and I begin to perspire
for a man I've never spoken to and yet I desire
Admire
your eyes, your skin, your essence, your…you
Approaching, my heart goes out, and yet you have no clue.
His hair: Nappy, curly, long, or bald,
however you are, my spirit's sprawled
on the floor, unconscious
leaving me useless, breathless, helpless.
Again and again, I wonder how you leave me feeling so queer, so unusual?
I don't know,
but my brotha, all I can say is

Your black - is beautiful

By: Dorlette Pierre-Louis

Niggers Niggas & Niggaz

by Julian Curry

Sorry

An excerpt from:For Colored Girls Who Ever Considered Suicide/ When the Rainbow Aint Enuf

Lady in Blue
One thing I don't need
Is any more apologies.
I got sorry greetin me at my front door,
You can keep yrs.
I don't know what to do with em.
They don't open doors,
Or bring the sun back,
They don't make me happy,
Or get a morning paper.
Didn't nobody stop using my tears to wash cars cuza sorry.

I am simply tired of collecting
I didn't knowI was so important to you
I'm gonna haveta throw some away;
I can't get to the clothes in my closet.
For all the sorries.

I'm gonna tack a sign to my door
Leave a message by the phone
'if you called to say yr sorry
call somebody else
I don't use em anymore'
I let sorry/I didn't meanta/ & how could I have know about that
Take a walk down a dark and musty street in Brooklyn.
I'm gonna do exactly what I want to
And I won't be sorry for none of it.
Letta sorry soothe your soul/I'm gonna soothe mine.

-By: Ntozake Shange

Ego Trippin (there may be a reason why)

(Kenya by Lazlo Emmerich)

I was born in the Congo.
I walked to the fertile crescent and built the sphinx.
I designed a pyramid so tough that a star that only glows every one hundred years falls
into the center giving divine perfect light.
I am bad.
I sat on the throne drinking nectar with allah.
I got hot and sent an ice age to Europe to cool my thirst.
My oldest daughter is Nefertiti. The tears from my birth pains created the Nile.
I am a beautiful woman.....
I gazed on the forest and burned out the Sahara desert.
With a packet of goat's meat and a change of clothes
I crossed it in two hours.
I am a gazelle so swift, so swift you can't catch me.....

For a birthday present when he was three
I gave my son Hannibal an elephant.
He gave me Rome for mother's day.
My strength flows ever on.....
My son Noah built new ark and
I stood proudly at the helm as we sailed on a soft summer day.
I turned myself into myself and was Jesus.
Men intone my loving name.All praises All praises.
I am the one who would save.....
I sowed diamonds in my back yard.
My bowels deliver uranium.
The filings from my fingernails are Semi-precious jewels.
On a trip north, I caught a cold and blew
My nose giving oil to the Arab world.
I am so hip even my errors are correct.

I sailed west to reach east and had to round off the earth as I went.
The hair from my head thinned and gold was laid across three continents.....
I am so perfect so divine so ethereal so surreal,
I cannot be comprehended except by my permission.
I mean...I...can fly
like a bird in the sky.......

-By: Nikki Giovani