YBP – Young Black Poet. (Part. 1)

Play me for a fool and I’ll lose my cool.
In a pool game of five balls; the fool
who hit the white-ball is he who gets
played by the cat on the Empire State Building.

 
Give me the mic let me recite my
plight tonight; my fight for freedom
with my might and power. In my
kingdom, diamond sparklingly
thoughts lights the room full of dark faces.

 
Acknowledge and represent;
I am the dark faces of my people!
In this place I trace my race to the roots,
from branches to stem.

 
Homeland security have me feeing
ruthless. Insanity blurred to sanity.
My knife blunt from trials of vanity.

 
Martin Luther King; Africa home to
Kings and Queens; we were leaders before we were followers.
We were conquerers before we were conquered.

 
Gold in the purest of form.
Beauty in the roughest of form,
dangerously lurking in danger.
Africa! Forever beautiful does she
remain in her blossom form.
I lay my head in your bosom and
wait for the day to see you again.

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