Roots Black Routes
I want my poetry to sing
Published in
3 min readApr 16, 2021
1) The vision seeks the man.
Called upon by my past
I live to die in search of my mast
As if today’s my last.
In the direction of tomorrow
I drift on reed of tongue.
2) Writing is the urge to tell folks about it.
I drift but I know where I’ve been where
I’m at where I’m going.
I have been a slave I’ve been a king
I have died for living.
In loose tongue I have sung just to lung
Angers of my people
In eulogies of soul euphony
Uncovering my pain.
I drift but I know where we have been.
3) History is a people’s memory.
Imbued with blue black blues
Memories drifting on reed of tongue
Moan nightmares of the truth.
“We have lived a painful history”
Passed down by word of mouth.
Anthems of silent hostility
