Greetings everyone and welcome to another segment of Friday Night Poetry Corner #42. Yes, yes this is the second week in a row that I am a day late and a dollar short..
Well a quick note; Me along with a couple of my friends went to the Baltimore Comic Con this year. Extremely enjoyable–No I did not dress up. One day, yeah one day.
Now back to the Corner. Tonight I am featuring a socially thought-provoking work by Osama Iftikhar called “Akaasi 13: Cries of Gaza.” This poem in its greatness had a raw emotion to it that regardless of your philosopher leanings; it will affect your human side or at least cause you to ponder on certain things. Visit his page when you get a chance as well. Thank you for supporting and keep writing, thinking, believing in you because who else will do so in a passionate manner.
Sorry for skipping a week of the Friday Night Poetry Corner. I went out-of-town that night; a journey of 14hours on the road so needless to say I needed some rest before I left.
But now—–More, more More MORE!!!
Alright enough of the nerdville moment, here is a joint I wrote last year. It was a dedication to a fallen civil, human rights souljah from the original Black Panthers Party.
Chi-town’s great Fred Hampton..
Below I will also have a video of some moments from this intelligent young man who was taken by us from cowards. Yes shot to death while sleeping in his bed by Chicago’s finest.
Real talk, look it up but that did happen.
Hope you enjoy this poem and once again thank you for visiting and supporting the Poetry Corner
(of course personal statements above are just my opinions so please feel free to give yours from any point of view(s).
I dreamed of lost love
(sorry fred, I’m so sorry)
I remember everything about that day,
as if I could forget,
the death of Fred Hampton,
in chi-town’s lost hits.
It happen on a warm day of sorts,
political speeches fell on cold grounds,
made men and women contend,
a cloud of mistrust within.
It wasn’t justice at all,
that cause that brotha’ to fall,
that made police made the call,
widen the evil in us all.
No marches, no television memorials were seen
the absence of total anger
the regret of subtle patience
was too damn extreme.
We wanted the dream
we witness the nightmare
we wanted answers,
we needed to breathe
what was instead conceived
made even the cynical heart bleed
made us furious,
gnashing emotional snow–fist pounding mountain shakes
finally the revolutionary
in all grandest,
began to shake,
began to began, to began, to began…
meaning it was too expensive to run.
Building, not tearing down.
If you want to drown don’t torture yourself with shallow water.
"Diving into a writers soul is discovering the broken treasure and beautiful mysteries that make you gasp for air."