Ignorance of the Black Mind

I wrote a poem after I watch the George Jackson film. The film was disturbing, but necessary. George's actions were unusual, but he needed to commit them. He needed to show the black world what happens when you stick to your values. He died for what he believed was right. And while in prison, a few days before he was killed, he wrote a letter to his mother about his experiences. And I took that notion and used it as inspiration to write this piece. Now personally, I don't know if I would have kidnapped a judge in order to make a huge point, but obviously George knew something I didn't. That you can't reason with irrational, and disillusioned minds that see themselves superior. I admire his efforts because he stayed truth to his message: We will not fall, nor stand for injustice. If must, we must die as our ancestors did, so that we can provide a better life for the future generations.

A Letter

George wrote letters to his mom.
How?
When only blood was in his eyes,
a bomb of punches from the
"Black" fist of power-
only a white hand in the shadows.
How did he see a black utopia?

When only blood was in his eyes
and ice veins crackled like chandeliers kissing
the ground. No. It popped.
Like fire-crackling gunshots,
heartbeats boom and bang as heart's sang
"Oh, how I love Jesus."

And not myself.

Praise His mangled corpse,
which lives within me, but
not my soul.
Not my ancestors who's voices 

rage with the ferocity of conga drums.

Every beat is a reminder that I can't

appreciate my Black power.

I denounce that rage unlike George

and I see the world as they want.

I settle with what I become.

I don't perceive, perhaps I can't imagine
how George wrote letters to his 
mother because I can't even tell mine,

I love you