Tag: #blackart

Lost Questions

Poetry

I find it strange that you claim to live your life by a book you’ve never completely read.

I find it strange that you still believe you can determine where I go once I’m dead.

I find it strange that I came here for church but your more worried about the hat that’s on my head.

I find it strange that you lack yeast if knowledge of self is God’s bread…

I find it strange that you twist the bible for your own personal gain.

I find it strange that if I question your book then I’m either a demon or insane.

I find it strange that you think your religion is the only one that’s real.

I find it strange you could be so deranged that requires a special kind of skill.

I find it strange you’re able to judge without knowing what someone feels.

I find it strange you don’t look for answers but if you don’t then I will…

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The New Pledge

Poetry

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Die for America?

I won’t die for these characters

People untrue to themselves

They’re really caricatures

Kidnap my ancestors on ships

Then say they carried us

Nah, you ain’t the man, Peter Pan

Watch us fly without your fairy dust

The only reason this place is what it is

Is because of us

Tell Baltimore to calm down

No thank you, We’ve had enough

Pushed to the breaking point

Then we start breaking stuff

And somehow they’re mad at us

So if I stood in a crowd full of black faces

You know, the kinds that aren’t painted

I’d stand at attention in the room

Raise my right hand and salute

And say that I pledge allegiance to all of you…

photo was taken with Canon EOS Rebel T3i using 18-55mm lens by photographer T. Todd

The Negro Speaks of Rivers

Poetry

I’ve known rivers:
I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I’ve known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

Langston Hughes, 1902 – 1967

In 4th grade I recited this poem for a project and since Langston Hughes has always been my favorite poet. If you haven’t already I encourage you to read into his works as well as his history. Hope you all can appreciate this poem as much as I do.

-T.Todd