The human fruit are black men lynched and hung from trees by the men in white robes, the chambers gas is were the Nazis sent the Jews. The suffering cries of a mother's child are the cries of the children of Africa and the world at large...and the power
in a place of shadows
fallacy reigns
and on my journey from birth I hear echoes of
humanity
where passions of faith ignite conflicts of rage and
war is its residue
and towers of glass and plastic concrete and steel
in their warped philosophy of a blind eye turned
wield the power to change but choose not
growing in manhood I hear the daunting chorus of
time but as the battle for morality rages and the
essence of day flirts with the darkness of night
I smell death
conceived in the corridors of empty hearts draped
in the fabric of empty men riding the wind leaving a
human fruit to swing
and through the gates of carnage time would say
that in the clutches of a chambers gas death stole
the smiles of an unborn's heart
as my inner fury burns I turn to wondered of the sky
how many more must die as the suffering cries of
a mother's child fall on the ears of a deceitful tribe
and I ask myself
where have all the rainbows gone
in seeking refuge of this reality I arrive at my roads
that cross and find me
as I reflect on who I am and where I am I ponder life
and observe the virtues of a beckoning tomorrow
the pain of my plight is real for tomorrow never
comes
as the divine message of a sacred will fills a solemn
air and righteousness begs to be heard
I tell God
of my plight
Earl S. Jackson
May 2006,
Copyright © 2006 Earl S. Jackson, all rights reserved.
Poetry by Earl Jackson
Read 620 times
Written on 2006-08-20 at 21:10
Tags Contemporary
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In a place of shadows
in a place of shadows
fallacy reigns
and on my journey from birth I hear echoes of
humanity
where passions of faith ignite conflicts of rage and
war is its residue
and towers of glass and plastic concrete and steel
in their warped philosophy of a blind eye turned
wield the power to change but choose not
growing in manhood I hear the daunting chorus of
time but as the battle for morality rages and the
essence of day flirts with the darkness of night
I smell death
conceived in the corridors of empty hearts draped
in the fabric of empty men riding the wind leaving a
human fruit to swing
and through the gates of carnage time would say
that in the clutches of a chambers gas death stole
the smiles of an unborn's heart
as my inner fury burns I turn to wondered of the sky
how many more must die as the suffering cries of
a mother's child fall on the ears of a deceitful tribe
and I ask myself
where have all the rainbows gone
in seeking refuge of this reality I arrive at my roads
that cross and find me
as I reflect on who I am and where I am I ponder life
and observe the virtues of a beckoning tomorrow
the pain of my plight is real for tomorrow never
comes
as the divine message of a sacred will fills a solemn
air and righteousness begs to be heard
I tell God
of my plight
Earl S. Jackson
May 2006,
Copyright © 2006 Earl S. Jackson, all rights reserved.
Poetry by Earl Jackson
Read 620 times
Written on 2006-08-20 at 21:10
Tags Contemporary
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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