Stop & Feel.

Tension.

As I lay dying

blood oozing from my veins,

there’s a fleeting sense of peace

I’m finally done with fighting

for my freedom to be free.

As I begin to feel myself against the cool cement

I can’t stop myself from thinking this is meant-

-to be.

*

As I sit here dying

in front of my computer screen

latent feelings of regret

of all the fights for freedom

that I have left unseen.

Experiencing my vision blur

as I continue to focus on my happiness

all I see is newness and I whirl

into and upward spiral toward my bedroom ceiling

and all I can think is

at least I’ll stop reeling.

*

As I stand with my comrades

on the front lines in the street

I know this is a major vein of fighting

for freedom to be free.

With the strength of our ancestors

and support from our communities

We can hold the whole damn system

in contempt for their iniquities.

As I march in the street losing my voice

the pressure of the police state

we attempt to destroy

all I feel is love

and rage

breaking free of the cage

if only for a night

speaking truth like a sage

I’m one with my people

I let go of my stress

I’m at peace with

my comrades

my elders

my ancestors

my death.

Written by Me on 10.2.16

People on the ground need help and aid. They need money to bail out our captive warriors who were detained for fighting for freedom. Help fight against Black and Brown bodies being littered in the street by the people who are paid to protect and serve them. Help fight against white supremacy in a world of anti-blackness. Help speak Truth to Power.

You can help by donating  to the Freedom Fighter Bond Fund. You can help by spreading the word for others to donate!

Help the struggle manifest to victory! All we have to lose are our chains!

#BlackLivesMatter

#CharlotteUprising

#StopKillingUs

 

Until Next Time Comrades,

-D

 

 

 

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About thepsych1

I am a natural progression. As I learn and grow, so does this blog as a reflection of myself. Poetry Art Videos Critique Let's collaborate. Bring your friends.
This entry was posted in Activism During the Struggle, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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