Yesterday I wrote, and wrote until my hand turned blu. To my surprise, inspiration and creativity flows freely through – this space. I am touched, and eager to share these words from an unknown artist – anonymously blu.
young folk's blu's
singing songs of rhythmic cries that beat to the heart of crystal black skies
letting go of the truth just to get a better grip of the lies
shot through the veins of our existence
living a poisoned life
we tap drums to sing alongs' of old Negro spirituals
and beat the earth with our feet as our tongues tie while we speak
of incidents reoccurring as if they never happened
and history becomes present
just to keep the memories alive
and we pump blood through the eyes of windows that captured the essence of our ancestors souls
this is young folk's blu's
deep rooted into the soil of hearts
that understand but can't interpret their knowings
of inequalities
as they walk pass old cotton field
and touch the soles of their feet to feel the souls who's hearts still beat in the fields
and plant their fingers in the dirt just to touch something that feels real
as tongues tie around the experiences
of existence
struggling to know the difference between breathing and living
we sing the blues
shaded in the cracks of our hearts where the sun no longer shines
i open my mouth wide to be heard by the masses
and unlock the shackles of my mind from being held captive
because although the struggle still defines where we've come from
it also has to be the reason why we left it at where we've come from and not where we are
so we make gifted promises to the stars
and beat hearts like drums
as our words slip from our tongues
this is young folk's blu's
outlined in all black
with recollections of unwarranted attacks whether it be in this day in time or down the line
our blu's will forever be the life of reality
i got those young folk blu's
thought by now shit would've change
but everyday it's the same ole thang
got my head hanging low
aint got no reason to look to the sky fo'
young folk's blu's
thats what i got, i got them good ole young folk's blu's
discovered
-leah woods, an amazing writer and friend
Phenomenal!
ReplyDelete"history becomes present
just to keep the memories alive"
This is an amazing concept -- when we think about recurring patterns and trauma...and a culture of poverty and nihilism. It's just amazing to sit and let these words resonate...all of these words (blog and poem). I just wanted to let you know I feel it. I am moved.
"plant their fingers in the dirt just to touch something that feels real
as tongues tie around the experiences
of existence
struggling to know the difference between breathing and living"
We are barely alive.