Black Rain

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  • Dark Truth

    Black Rain

    there’s~
     no sun
       today
                              Tomorrow ‘s
                                     sure to be
                                      the same
                                                                         Another prince
                                                                         another queen
                                                                             another king
                                                                                   has died

                                                                                                             children bare witness
                                                                                                                      they shed tears

                                                                                                                              they mourn
                                                                                                                               being born
                                                                     a mother cries . . .

                                                                     she cradles
                                                                     her firstborn's head

                          the blood trickles

                                          from a hole
                                               made by
                                           musket fire

    down her bosom ~
                               
    to settle
    in her womb
                       
                       she cries
                                       
                               until
                      her ducts
                     run dry
                                                              women . . .
     
                                                               bow their heads
                                                              in solemn prayer

                                                                     for husbands
                                                                         and lovers
                                                                                            
                                                             gone too soon
                                                                                                                     her heart~

                                                                                                                           b e a t s

                                                                                                                              a rage
                                                                                                                no one fathoms
                                                                the devil . .
                                                                   
                                                                  has taken
                                                                  her heart
                                                                     this day
    she holds her head                                          
                                           and 
                   screams at the sky
                                
                                                    T H E R E ‘ S   N O    G O D .. !


                                                                                                           today she walks away
                                                                                                                    from her religion
                                                   the one prayer
                                                   she begged of god

                                                   he denied . .

                                      h e r   s o n   i s   d e a d

    The sky’s overcast~

               thunder claps
                   for a prince

              m u r d e r e d . . !

                 like Y'shua

                                                 why hast thou forsaken me

                                                                                                     and                                                                                                           
                                                                              from the skies
                                                                                        this day
      
                                                                 The heavens

                                                                        cried.. !     


                                                              N I G G E R. .  !

                                                                                                                          s c a r s  , , ,

                                                                                                                                 worn                                                                                                                      on keloid backs
                                                                                                                     
                                                                                                                        like tattoos
                                                                                                                    gained at war
                                          dance   
                                          scream
                                          fester
                                          ooze
                                                                   
                                          to the melodies
                                          of the whip
                        and
                        
                        to the sting
                        of the stick

                                          n o t h i n g   y o u   d o   s h a l l   b r e a k   m e

    I can't breathe~
                                   and 
                         still I know
                   I will not break

                                                            y o u   c a n   k i l l   m e

                                                                                                             my pain
                                                                                                is nonnegotiable
                                                           it's not
                                                           for you to take
                                                              
                    
                                                          I would not succumb


                                                                                I’m
     


                                                           B L A C K   R A I N



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    Poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.

    Plato (BC 427-BC 347) Greek philosopher.

    Ming’s Poems (22)

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