Note: I have yet to come across any poem/piece/prose as powerful as this one - I know, fully, understand when people say "this or that thing was life changing." Thank you for sharing this poem, Diata! - halima
I am the product of my environment
More correctly, I am the product of my era in time
An era that’s 142 years past slavery
50 some odd years from Jim Crowism
And 31 years removed from the days
Of civil rights upheaval
I am an Afrikan
In an European matrix
I am ironically, the breathing testament to
A future normalcy that’s propositioned for…
I am the conflicting spirit of a victory won
Yet the destitute trapping of a generation lost
I am the reflection of a perfect love and a perfect hate
I seen the induction of the C.I.A & F.B.I
Systematically implant crack cocaine as subversive tool
To dwindle the revolutionary flame of the 60s
So I ask have I ever seen love?
I am the generation that first seen the “so called”
Affirmative action laws, which were supposed to have spawned the manifestation of “equal opportunity” in workplace and equal housing.
So should I ask, do I know love?
I am amongst a generation that leads in every major category that favors, and is high on, death.
So must I ask, is it possible for me to know love?
Remember we are just
Reflecting on a perfect love and perfect hate
How can you have morals and values when you are desperate?
How can righteousness be present when death and despair is so imminent?
How can they expect for love to exist, in a vast mass of conflicting emptiness?
Is love prejudice, and only accessible to those who can afford it?
Or is love the rock of those oppressed to lean on so they can maintain and hold on to their sanity and humanity?
Is love perfect and exact?
Or is it a faulty measurement and credit to God’s creative act?
Can I pick and choose who I love, must it be all embracive?
Is love a single characteristic
Or can it have multiple faces
As faces change in and out our relationships?
How can I love and still be so quick to kill?
Reflections of perfect love and hate
I heard a wise old man say
That the creative force talks to the heart and through the power of thought…
Well then if this is true
Then love is the vehicle that transmits the universal energy of man…to man..through
But not just any man
Not the man who’s divulgent in the panoramic scheme
Of man’s exploitation of man
Not the man absent of comprehension life’s cycle in land
Not the man void of obligations to another man free in hand
Not the man who oozes from goose pimples chasing after breastless firls in perverse skirts
Not the man who breathless skeleton treasures the heaven sent devil’s tongue
You know him, the man whose deceptive words carry heart thrilled prasising songs all throughout the four (4) corners causing massive burial zones
Love can’t be for the man, whose first taste of life was cradled in the smoke filled of a crack pipe
Reflection
Love can’t possibly know, the man who likes to touch his step-daughter secretly at night while she’s whispering the Lord’s Prayer
Reflections…
I wonder if love ever known those countless baby bones scattered throughout the floor of the Atlantic Ocean, because that slave destined mother didn’t want hate to overwhelm her loves life
Reflections
I bet you they loved the begging squeal of that pleading nigger bragging from the back of that pickup truck
A perfect love and perfect hate
Reflection
I once visualized love one night over harden
Erection and lustful wet dreams of me beating
The shit out of that judge who sentenced me
Reflections
They say its three (3) types of men in this world
Well, I must have been the fool, because the same wise old man taught me – twice
He said if the creator is spirit
And man is made flesh, then love must sleep with soul on the plane first made manifest
Reflections
Retrospection showed me that I was a slave
Introspection brought to the realm of being re-made…
So like a new born, I take a slap from reality
That awakens me to breath…
Wiping away the fetus membrane, I begin to see a new image
One that’s no longer tainted by pictures
Of beautiful women given lustful thoughts
Or having a hustler’s dreams, trying to make a robbers buck
But now, I see, a positive ways
Knocking down barriers in a hell-like maze
Love is neither helpless nor substance less
But resides on a thin line of ethereal thoughts
Penetrating the psyche of a man who has fought through force-fields of ignorance and heartache
Swiped through myriads of obstacles and stumbling blocks
To arrive at the pinnacles of the creator’s throne
Not any fictitious ottomans in galaxies space less space
But rather the seat of man’s domain
Existing inside the physiological composition
Of conductive activity that arrives you at the cognitive realization that love is UNDERSTANDING
Can’t you finally see
Your reflection
Love is height of understanding
Love is when you no longer under but overstand
Life and reality and your direct correlation in it
Love is that energy and motion vocatively combusting
Within you so that you can do nothing but feel it
But it’s more
Love is conscious awareness
Aware enough to know that you must consciously embody the righteous principles of life as they culminatively co-exist synchrinizedly
To produce, cultivate, nurture and perpetuate
What?
Life!
Life as the multitude of lessons which constitute one lessons
Love
Reflections
Love is immaculate with much splendor
Suspended in a vortex of blocked perceptions
Love is explicitly clear
Transparent to the eye
But yet so easy to see
Reflections
Love is perplexing to those restricted to just their five (5) tentacle-like senses…
But truly, spiritually enthralling to the few
Who allow their cognitive minds?
To absorb it’s heart-shattering
Truth
Love is as love does
Because you see you do
As far as your conscious overstanding
Of life, reality, existing
Allows you to do
So, in the end all you really have to do is reflect and you
Will now
Love
Reflections
Diata
Copyright © 2010
