POETRY: The Revolution will not be televised by Reggie Drake

I was told that,
The Revolution will not be televised.
Only prophesized in street sermons
That leaders feed us through tubes connected to cylinders
That pump philosophy into our veins,
The New Age Enlightenment,
The Revolution will not be sponsored by coke or state farm,
The Revolution will not be seen on BET,
NO broadcast interrupted,
NO streets eruptin',
It will come like a thief in the night
Stealing away your false securities
You will not be able to stay at home
Because your homes will be bonfires
Lighting sparks in the hearts of,
NBC and CNN newscasters
That propagate our disasters,
Showcasing crooks in suits
That feed us lies on the same worn out platters.
There will be no make up artists,
Sound directors,
Tech teams,
Plots and schemes,
There will be no gunshots and mass killings shown on the instant replay
There will be no gunshots, screams, and mass killings shown on the instant replay
Oh no,
Because this shxt wont be on tv,
Our Revolution will not be televised.
I used to sit on church on Sunday
Pondering my philosophy drenched in God,
Thinking back on wise words told in verses,
"Besides this you know the time, that the hour has come for you to wake from sleep,
For salvation is nearer to us now then when we first believed"
That means our time is coming
That means our time is coming
So dont sleep,
Because it wont be televised,
It will be LIVE
For the whole universe to see
Bigger than the worlds greatest symphony
Doors will open to see the spectacle,
Marveled by the brilliancy,
But then they'll turn on that tv
And the government will tell them
"Dont believe what you see.
Its a trick , its a trap"
And brands hotter than the core of venus
Will emerge like a three letter codon
On skins that reject truth and obey whims,
While we,
Dance our tribal dances
In white liberation outfits that we prepared just for the occasion,
And we,
scream in these megaphones
That we prepared just in case
Our voices arent loud enough to say
"Our revolution has come"
But some,
Will still be watching re-runs of Martin.
Hoping notices pop up on screens saying
"Our Revolution is here"
But it wont be here
For those that cant hear us over the rumblings of an old spice commercial
The Revolution doesnt care about what new hairstyle Beyonce has or,
What combination of numbers will net you once-in-this-lifetime wealth
The Revolution will not be back after a warning about some hurricane
The Revolution is not some uprising in the Middle East
The Revolution, will not have to be authorized by Obama
I was told that it wouldn't be televised,
So I sat in church in waited
Ponderin my philosophy on Sunday
As that offering pan circulates
The ching of alms hitting metal reverberates
Inside our cathedral creating sound waves loud enough
To revive Moses and,
Put his holy spirit inside our preacher,
Who poses,
As Gods confidante
Confidently regurgitating scriptures
Instilling faith in believers
I see Saul Williams,
Over there hustling culture
Standing on the corner of the block slinging amethyst rocks
Drinkin 40 ounces of Mother Earths nectar stock,
Public Enemy #1
To the man who forbids you to be real and feel
You cant find the truth with an ax or a drill,
Its buried,
The Revolution doesnt start till u find it in your heart
Theres no repentance for sinners
Their bound to live infinitely in executive life sentences
So while your stuck behind bars
Bombards of life explodes from our revolution
And they'll prey,
They exist like hungry vultures preying on our weakness
But in my rarefied mirror im flawless
These vultures dont have enough spirituality to really know how to pray,
Like we do on Sunday
So that one day we would be there when the revelation came ,
So that one day I would here,
At 5:30pm,
On this land,
In this city,
On this rock
When the Revolution...
Was LIVE.

POETRY: 'The Strongest People' by Jazelle Handoush

The Strongest People

By Jazelle Handoush

The strongest people are the ones nobody realizes are fighting.

They wear masks to shield their pain from other eyes, 

stretching lips into convincing Cheshire cat grins 

and eyes wide with wonder. 

These are the people who step in to comfort you, 

though no one notices the scars they wear on skin, hearts, and soul. 

They make up a race of survivors, 

of spirits too often put down and trampled on. 

Yet they stand back up, never allowing another pair of eyes 

to see the stampede’s footprints on their backs.

The strongest people are the ones nobody realizes are fighting, 

bleeding, screaming silently, and yet still living.

They suffer in silence, 

instead of shouting to the cosmos of all the ways 

they’re scared and scarred. 

When other’s expect society to run towards them with open arms, 

to heal their wounds and scatter their tears, 

this unseen population of Strong and Silent remain zip-lipped. 

They believe that backbone and tough skin will get them by, 

help them survive, 

and they’re unaware that it’s a lie.

The strongest people in the world have scratched up souls, 

but they don’t allow anyone to see.

Its a population of you, them, and me.

And we’re convinced we need to suffer alone, 

in the shadows. 

We’re not hiding, 

we just don’t want to be a burden. 

We sit in silence while others suffocate us with their woes, 

though they don’t listen to ours.

They don’t ask.

So here is to ever member of the Strong and Silent. 

Here is to the boys and girls who think they are alone, 

unknowing we are a full society of secret keepers. 

Here is to those of backbone and tough skin, 

too often reminded of the painful world we’re in.

I’m here. I’ll listen. I’ll see your scars and try to heal them with my own.

Just know…you’re not alone.

Copyright 2013 | Jazelle Handoush

POETRY: Day Dream by Reggie Drake

WAKE UP MR. DRAKE
WAKE UP!!!!
Why cant you pay attention in class
Am I not interesting?
Do you feel sick??
Is there something you want to say to the class??
And I say no sir....
I just, like to Daydream
And watch the Day Dream realities
That I put in my mentality
I didnt mean to ignore you,
He interrupts and says "Focus on things that you can see"
Well, what if i dont like the world that I view inside my retinal,
Is it so wrong for me to dream
And pretend that I dont see your prejudice persistently
displayed by subtle favoritisms
Your eyes never lie
Mentally dividing us by skin tone
Our section you never enter
Religiously devoting time
To young minds deemed superior
Because superiors coddle and cuddle
Little Sally until shes happy
And, trigonometry becomes second nature
Like, 2+2
And us, we're left in the dust
Psychologically attaining attention deficit
Our attention was always at a deficit
You,
So called teachers pick out the problem child
Attributing his troubles with a lack of acumen
Fundamentally forgetting that,
Maybe little Jerome has issues at home
Maybe education is 2nd priority when the issue is abuse
But hes tossed aside like trash,
A lost cause
And you wonder why I daydream in your class...
Needless to say I was kicked out and sent home
Had to tell mom on the phone i was walking back
Dragging my feet against the sidewalk
At least I can daydream amidst the flowers,
For a couple of hours,
On this beautiful day
Thinking of playing hopscotch with the solar system
And kickball with the galaxy,
My imagination exaggerated
That,
Small field next to that parking lot smelling like freedom
The aroma *smelling noise
Suffocating my soul
With ethereal vitality
It was, kinda like alchemy
The way, mental faculties x originality
could put us kids together like an equation playin in the shade,
Neighborhood kids with smiling faces elated
Jump for joy when that spiraling object reaches eager hands ,
Lagoons fill up quickly with bodies ready to party but,
Its not what it seems
These pools of paradise are not recreational,
Even youth drown face flat when attacked by demonic personas
Disguised as sharks who,
Fail to put enough time into their costumes
A, wiseman stays ashore until he is ashored that theres no harm in those razorback fins
That slant like italics when prey wanders near
I guess thats why Im dreaming and perpetually scheming
The system tryna trap us like birds in cages
waiting for that one slip so we fall and break backs
Unable to rise from the bottom of economics
Thats why these gray skies turn blue,
Murdereres become benevolent,
And deception changes form forming some unattainable concept
Like, World Peace
When I daydream
But, back to reality
I open my house door and ignore
The tossed and turned furniture ,
The, "I fucking hate you's" exploding out the bedroom across the hall,
Angry feet stomp out and wet sobs soak the kitchen floor
Loneliness invades the abode
As I flee to comfort zones blocking out despair
It gets worse,
Pleas of "Please dont take him" takes me back,
And figures emerge from the back of the house
Saying, "Son, we would like to take you in and give you a better home than this"
I say, "NOOO, all ill ever need is these daydreams to ease my mind
When life gives me more than I can take
And my, frail flesh cant bear to handle the weight
These daises and sunflowers comfort me in my darkest hours
So please just leave
So I can sleep
And get back to my daydreams