Epitome of goal.
Premonition of promise.
Summary of aspiration.
The fierce urgency of now.
Whispered by slaves as they blazed through trails,
Knocking for opportunity as well, prosperity.
It was a creed; stories rose among Negro fighters,
Written into the founding documents that declared
“Our destiny”
To this nation.
At the top
We stood,
To and for the American prayer.
“I exist. I am not insignificant.”
Yet the creed fell short of existence.
For the story of story tellers.
Four cells & walls echoed echoes hurled to boundaries.
Hang my heads; sorrow for humanity.
The 60’s became known for the crazy,
But the 80’s were worse.
To be blunt,
Crack fucked blacks and
Gave birth to a curse.
The white man dream,
Became the white man’s drug.
The skies bright, the moon misty.
We knew our future, as being told our history.
Screen lined predicted predictions by a gipsy.
By the age of down,
Bells rang out, hall ways cleared out.
Colored signs,
Found new home,
Praising new tone.
Wanting memories to teach me, churnings of butter.
Hymns to old gospel the earth cries grained sand piece me.
Break clod,
Plowing wickedness.
Sounds the trumpets,
Wolves howl against winds.
My soul clings to the dust,
All who dwelt on the rivers of Jordan.
Threshing winepress; dance of mourners.
Our songs of Audacity.
For every to be immersed in forgiveness.
Thirsty for revitalization after years of complicity.
We’d prey
For past sins to be tossed,
Within the tides of forgotten-ness.
There is no future in regret.
Repressed forward.
Reach upward.
Extend outward.
Stand firmly.
Existed to long as ghost for fear of saying no,
Traditions,
As well chasing pavements.
The embalm to American life.
We own the ballets.
We cast the vote.
Plundered battling bloodshed.
Heirs to a struggle for freedom.
Sweet peace instead hard wars.
The fierce urgency is now.
“We hold these truths”
Enough is enough.
Enough became enough,
When enough brought death upon equalization.
Abbevillian exalted enmity. Diviners abashed.
Troubled anguish have overtaken,
The zeal has consumed \.
Word play
To ghost whispers, as our flag is raised.
The Audacity.
Premonition of promise.
Summary of aspiration.
The fierce urgency of now.
Whispered by slaves as they blazed through trails,
Knocking for opportunity as well, prosperity.
It was a creed; stories rose among Negro fighters,
Written into the founding documents that declared
“Our destiny”
To this nation.
At the top
We stood,
To and for the American prayer.
“I exist. I am not insignificant.”
Yet the creed fell short of existence.
For the story of story tellers.
Four cells & walls echoed echoes hurled to boundaries.
Hang my heads; sorrow for humanity.
The 60’s became known for the crazy,
But the 80’s were worse.
To be blunt,
Crack fucked blacks and
Gave birth to a curse.
The white man dream,
Became the white man’s drug.
The skies bright, the moon misty.
We knew our future, as being told our history.
Screen lined predicted predictions by a gipsy.
By the age of down,
Bells rang out, hall ways cleared out.
Colored signs,
Found new home,
Praising new tone.
Wanting memories to teach me, churnings of butter.
Hymns to old gospel the earth cries grained sand piece me.
Break clod,
Plowing wickedness.
Sounds the trumpets,
Wolves howl against winds.
My soul clings to the dust,
All who dwelt on the rivers of Jordan.
Threshing winepress; dance of mourners.
Our songs of Audacity.
For every to be immersed in forgiveness.
Thirsty for revitalization after years of complicity.
We’d prey
For past sins to be tossed,
Within the tides of forgotten-ness.
There is no future in regret.
Repressed forward.
Reach upward.
Extend outward.
Stand firmly.
Existed to long as ghost for fear of saying no,
Traditions,
As well chasing pavements.
The embalm to American life.
We own the ballets.
We cast the vote.
Plundered battling bloodshed.
Heirs to a struggle for freedom.
Sweet peace instead hard wars.
The fierce urgency is now.
“We hold these truths”
Enough is enough.
Enough became enough,
When enough brought death upon equalization.
Abbevillian exalted enmity. Diviners abashed.
Troubled anguish have overtaken,
The zeal has consumed \.
Word play
To ghost whispers, as our flag is raised.
The Audacity.
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