Until the killing of Black men, Black mothers' sons, becomes as important to the rest of the country as the killing of a white mother's son -- we who believe in freedom cannot rest.
- Ella Baker
Even as our hearts break in rage and anguish over the murder of Black and brown people throughout the land by police who are not held accountable, here at Split This Rock we are heartened by the powerful actions in the streets and the visionary leadership of mostly young people of color in this growing movement for justice.
We are also moved by the poets, who continue to speak out, and especially by BlackPoetsSpeakOut.
In solidarity, Split This Rock offers our blog as a Virtual Open Mic, open to all who respond to our call for Poems that Resist Police Brutality and Demand Racial Justice. The poems below were submitted in response to that call.
Please note poems with complex formatting have been posted as jpegs, as this blog has a limited capacity for properly displaying these poems. We apologize if these poems are not accessible to you.
For more information or questions, feel free to email us at info@splitthisrock.org.
If you are moved by any of the poems below, please contact the Department of Justice and your local representatives to demand for police accountability. Visit Ferguson Action Demands for more information.
****
Money, Mississippi 1955
by Myra Sklarew
Emmett's mother is a pretty-faced thing.
Gwendolyn Brooks
Did the river cry to hold such a boy? Emmett's
hands at the bottom of the river. Emmett's mother
breathing at the top. Her tears. Is
the river swollen over its banks, holding a
nameless boy? A scot free killer, a pretty-face.
An innocent boy's whistle erased. A killed thing.
by Myra Sklarew
Emmett's mother is a pretty-faced thing.
Gwendolyn Brooks
Did the river cry to hold such a boy? Emmett's
hands at the bottom of the river. Emmett's mother
breathing at the top. Her tears. Is
the river swollen over its banks, holding a
nameless boy? A scot free killer, a pretty-face.
An innocent boy's whistle erased. A killed thing.
****
Why I Stopped Smoking
by Neil Silberblatt
Among the warnings on the side
of the pack or carton, next to the dire
but unheeded prophecies to you and your
unborn children, should be this
emblazoned with skull and crossbones.
CAUTION
If you sell these on a street
corner in Staten Island,and they are loose
and you are black,
there is a very real danger of your
being choked to death.
It really is a filthy habit.
Quit now.
every aspect of our lives
are controlled
Chinese people are like
a Mongolian lark
looking out the window
from behind the bars
of its bamboo cage
at a sparrow in the tree
by Neil Silberblatt
Among the warnings on the side
of the pack or carton, next to the dire
but unheeded prophecies to you and your
unborn children, should be this
emblazoned with skull and crossbones.
CAUTION
If you sell these on a street
corner in Staten Island,and they are loose
and you are black,
there is a very real danger of your
being choked to death.
It really is a filthy habit.
Quit now.
****
She Said
by Nahshon Cook
every aspect of our lives
are controlled
Chinese people are like
a Mongolian lark
looking out the window
from behind the bars
of its bamboo cage
at a sparrow in the tree
****
We protest
by Persis M. Karim
in the thin, thinning
air of the internet
our fingers beat the outrage
where others beat their chests
the violence of one day
begets the violence of another
when does the reason of love
weigh in and balance the scales?
****
R-I-O-T
by Colleen J. McElroy
it practically leaves me speechless: this thing
that happened in 1920 1930 1940
talking about this thing that happened in 1950
1980 1990 2001 2008 2011 2014
that's what I am talking about
that's what I am talking about
that is what I'm talking about
that is what I
am talking about
that is
what I'm talking
about - what
I am talking
that is
what I am
talking I am
about what
talking
dead
boys
black
****
copywriters
by D. H. Garrett
Poets
Who
the fuck do we think we are?
I
mean really
Why
the fuck do we think our feelings
Somehow
trump the need
Of
people to go about
Their
everyday fucked up lives
In
a fucked up system?
Last
thing they need is some
Spoken
word jerk
Waking
them up to the reality of the suffering
The
inequality the violence
Shit
they know already
And
are trying to forget
Which
is why they ignore
Us
poets and our pumped up
Puffed
up posturing declamations
Which
is why they ignore
The
death of beauty
The
death of nature
The
death of this or that
Unarmed
black man
The
death of democracy
The
death of all that is good
And
the raising up to the highest pinnacle
Of
the Richest fucking the poorest
While
their most recently purchased
Supermodel
looks on with a
Smile
on her face and little else
Jesus
people don't need to feel more
They
need to feel less
People
don't need to know more
They
need to know less
Which
is why I am horrified
Of
those little spaces tucked away here and there
Not
yet blessed by a corporate logo
For
if truth be told
What
can't be bought and sold
Ain't
worth a poet's piss
And
we all know what that's worth
I
shake it out here for all to see
Poets
get real
Lose
those feelings
Embrace
the great
Zombie
apocalypse
The
Company needs
A
few good copywriters
Needs
a clever slogan or two
To
really get us to finally completely stop
Thinking
****
Ferguson Verdict
by Chandramohan S
I
The still born corpse of Justice
Drifts away from the inland of being guilty
To the coast of whether probable cause
Exists to indict the silver stars on the
Red bullets.
II
A fetus of justice
Rescued from the womb of prejudice,
Seriously wounded
After the cops trampled on us midst our eviction
Dies days later in the court house.
III
When the entropy of the writings on the wall
Exceeds the contours of prejudice
It spills on to the streets
Torching vans and barricades
Scripting an uneasy calm
In the language of the unheard.
****
"I know I did my job right."
by Maxwell Corydon Wheat, Jr.
Former Officer Darren Wilson
Ferguson, Missouri, Police Force
18-year-old Michael Brown, black,
Saturday, October 13, 2014,
two days from starting college-- --
victim of police culture
reportedly melee of gun struggle grappling inside cruiser--
four rounds penetrate right arm,
out of vehicle, hands briefly raised--more bullets--Brown hit frontally,
dozen altogether, one entering top of skull,
suggests his head bent forward, enabling apparent fatal strike
Concernless for body of a mother's, of a father's son,
dead teen left lying four hours in August sun, face down on street.
In the old south lynched corpses left hanging days, weeks.
Policeman shrouds corpse with white sheet,
from underneath, blood oozes.
No ambulance, no medical help
Grand Jury no indictment
"...Trayvon Martin could have been me 35 years ago."
In the old south lynched corpses left hanging days, weeks.
Policeman shrouds corpse with white sheet,
from underneath, blood oozes.
No ambulance, no medical help
Grand Jury
"...Trayvon Martin could have been me 35 years ago."
Barack Obama
President of the United States
July 19, 2013
America for African-Americans:
shopping in department store followed,
crossing street hear locking click of car doors,
stepping into elevator purses clutched
For Trayvon Martin, 17-year-old high schooler,
February 26, 2012
visiting father's fiancée, future stepmother,
in Floridian Twin Lakes gated community.
Evening, convenience store for Skittles, iced tea
"Hoodie" sweatshirt,
alone for walk-back in rain
except this car, driver stalking,
neighborhood watch coordinator on cell phone
with Sanford police profiling
"...there's a real suspicious guy...just walking about...,"
"This guy looks like he's up to no good, on drugs or something."
Ordered not to exit car, he does, altercation
For this black teenager
death by Kel-Tee PF-9 9mm pistol
For this shooter
trial acquittal--again can possess gun
Staten Island, New York, July 17, 2014
Six police wrestle down black man, Eric Garner,
350 pounds,
unaware of heart problems, asthma.
Father of six, grandfather of two,
suspected selling illegal "loosies," cigarettes.
Summer loose white shirt
screamingly visible under police hands,
stomach ground-pressed, lethal under heavy blue-uniformed bodies,
his chest compressed,
"I can't breathe, I can't breath" eleven times
officer's thick arm thrown around his neck chokehold!
Cleveland, Ohio, Saturday, November 23, 2014.
Saturday we think of as a boy's day,
his playground day, impromptu baseball, football,
boisterous tag, bring a favorite toy,
12-year-old Tamir Rice, his pellet gun,
points at others, to him innocent, boyish fun --
reason for hone warming, "man with gun at park--
probably fake."
Tamir sees patrol car speed to halt by shelter,
two blue uniformed men leap out,
one a 15-year veteran,
other ruled incompetent by previous department,
seconds he points gun--police tradition-
ten feet the rookie shoots,
lightning pain in boy's intestines,
hospital Sunday following, boy having fun on the playground dead.
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