Using the Written Word as a Beacon II

Slayton Goodman
Jan.15, o9

You Gave Me This Stage

My soul locked in a cage you set it free
My life was on a path to destruction
You gave me this stage so I must thank thee
For the giver of my construction

You gave me this place you gave me this stage
You gave me the spot light so now I see
When I needed help you came to my aid
I was lost until you directed me

No one is able to label or misjudge me
No longer view as a stereotype
I am not what you think so don’t trust me
You gave me this stage you gave me this Mic

My soul bleeds on new revenue
My soul deep but I would had never knew


One
by
Alfred W. Tatum

January 16, 2008

One voice, one pen
There are 300 million Americans
I want to speak to them all
But, I am just one voice, one pen.

I am not even sure what I want to say
Will they listen anyway?
I am just one voice, one pen.

No microphone
Just a pen and pad when I am all alone
I am just one voice, one pen.

Then I think about the poet
Who wrote for me without even knowing me.
I am among the 300 million
Did he reach them all?
Did he just reach me?

I wonder if he felt like
One voice, one pen

Maybe I can become the next poet
Maybe the next storyteller
As I continue to sit alone
With one voice, one pen

I probably won’t reach them all
Just one like me who’ll heed the call
The call coming from
One voice, one pen


What I could have been/ Apology to myself
by
Slayton Goodman
Jan.0 4,2009

If when you lie you’re not speaking but just saying words
Then why is it the words you only say hurt the worst
They say be yourself they say come from the heart
Well it’s hard to be yourself when you don’t know who you are
MISFIT; OUTCAST these are compliments to me
They let me know I don’t have to dwell on what I used to be
They thought I was a gangbanger because I hung out with the thugs
And I didn’t learn my lesson the first five times I was jumped
I didn’t learn when I was hit in the eye with a golf club
I’m young, I haven’t been through a lot but I’ve been through enough
Sometimes I wonder about what I could have been
Then I decide to never use the word love again
I think about all the times I sin
And wonder why I’ve been forgiven again and again
Stupid mistakes from the past haunt my future
NOTE TO SELF: sorry for what I did to ya’


I was just thinking
Slayton Goodman 12-11-08

Thoughts running through my mind which one will hit the finish line
When you lie you’re not speaking you are just saying words
Fear is not a reason for holding back, but an excuse for holding back
A nigger, a nigger, not me
I’m not a nigger but a Negro
Nor am I a nigga for I don’t respond to ignorance
A trigger shall be the end of my demise, look a young black male he must be a thug
A man so insane thoughts run threw his brain
He is just a church boy with an evil genius’s brain
Christianity first
Loved ones next
Then knowledge and people not being able to call me a nigger and be correct
Wait wait wait wait! Oh never mind it’s too late
I wonder what people will think when they read this
He’s no poet, he is just writing down random things is that poetry
Why are you still reading it if it’s not
Who answers a question that they asked
Who are you to judge me?
Correct me if I’m wrong but power doesn’t come with fear but respect
I’m such a hypocrite
I try to stay non violent but if that boy say one more thing I’ll ………………………………..stop and think



Deep Seed

by

Alfred W. Tatum

December 11, 2008


There is deep seed within that needs to be watered
Hidden between the crevices of stifled imaginations and endless wanderings
Sitting there waiting for a sprinkle of human understanding and compassion
Ready to blossom at moment’s notice

My seed was waiting and then it arrived
I have never felt so alive
I thought I was the wellspring to joy
Until I discovered that my own seed was dry
Between stifled imaginations and endless wanderings
The deep seed has now surfaced
Life begins, truly.

It's Four Months Later and the Brother Authors Continue to Put Their Voices on Record

Winter snow
By Slayton Goodman
Dec.6, 2008

Snow shoveling my favorite chore
Winter my favorite time of year
Let all rivalries be no more
Let us join in Christmas cheer
I don’t need to wait anymore
For the first snow is almost here
Nothing I want to do more
Than spend time with the ones I hold dear
Our savior born on this day
The greatest gift of all time
So let’s go celebrate
Winter time on my mind


Brother Author Slayton inspired the poem below. I continue to find power in his words.


In a Barren Field

By

Alfred Tatum

Out in the wilderness is a flower
That speaks to us with power
Among the weeds in a barren field
Among The weeds in a barren field
Yet in still
He speaks to us with power
Only if we can find a way to listen to that flower
I hear you young brother
I will pass your voice on to others
I will pass your voice on to others
It is your voice of power
That gives me the hope of becoming a flower
Among the weeds in a barren field
Among the weeds in a barren field