Sunday, January 25, 2009

My Inauguration

My Inauguration


Alfred W. Tatum

I never felt so low being locked down
I say Barack on stage
Before being forced back into the cage
D.C. felt so close, but out of my reach

I started reflecting on all I had done
to please the girl who no longer remembers my name
as she now teaches her son about OBAMA
the real man who stands next to a real momma

My mattress swallowed me as I sat on the cot
My soul began to rot
As I tried to disappear because of the shame inside
My calls felt so idle – no more throwing up the Ws for West Side

Then I remembered someone talking about God’s loving grace
Maybe it can sustain me until I get out of this place
44 months to go, isn't that ironic, before my release
Into a different society with a Black Man calling for world peace

I can’t wait until the daylight
So that I say good morning to the next Brother
Who I suspect felt the same shame
Barack has given me a new face
It’s up to me to restore my name

Barack has give me a new face
It’s up to me to restore my name

No more iniggeration
My inauguration starts today
This, to God, I pray.

Yet Another Brother Author Has Returned


By: John Galloway

I Never Had the Best Choice Of Buddies Or MANY Friends
Some May Call Me A Crybaby But In The End It All Depends.
Daddy Never Gave A Damn,
But I Would Always Kill For My Child To Have Another Meal.
Still Worried About WHERE I Will Go Wrong
and Will They Put “JUST ANOTHER N***A” Over my Tombstone.
A Whole Bunch of Sad Songs and Flower Bringing,
with a funeral full of little cousins I Never Be seeing.
Trying in School to Be the Best
Praying to God for A cure For M.S.
I Guess It Fells Good To Get Some Of This Off My Chest
But My Soul Must Consume The Rest.
Scared of the Fact That I may not Graduate
But The suit and Gown Is Something I Will Always Anticipate.
So Much Spitting On me I feel Like another Dog
but it will Feel Good to Be the Underdog.
The Flows So Hot I’m Afraid to Touch It,
Been holding it so long I get Blisters from it!
We still live In a Recession;
the country isn’t making no progression.
I’m Still Black,
N ***AS Still sell Crack,
Most Pitiful N***AS Still
Looking for a purse to snatch
or kill a mother over One
Now what’s The Gansta in That?
Still Older People Trying to Lecture us
But When Girls Get pregnant all They Blame is us.
Police go over board to restrain us
because the N***A in us don’t Want People Putting Chains On us.
So When I die I Want to go to Heaven
because now isn’t A Gift
So Why Do We Call It the Present.