… open market

 

… before slaves became a commodity in the Western Hemisphere, African natives were enslaving and trading their neighbors, enemies, and criminals.

Unfortunately, on this side of the world and in many other places, until the start of the Trans-Atlantic slave trade in the 16th century, only modern-day native Africans knew there was a slave culture to behold. Not many people acknowledge there are stories, truths and lies, from before the first slave ships docked in the Caribbean and then South Carolina and Virginia that directly correlate with our own stories; accounts that are as much a piece of our history as Barack Obama becoming president.

Black History isn’t just about what transpired in colonial America and the United States, if it were it would be referred to as African-American History.

Our history goes well beyond ourselves and anyone we will ever encounter in this lifetime …

 

Market Value

 

trying to bypass the middlemen

in search of India’s luxuries

the Old World met New

and the Atlantic became the highway to Hell

 

seeds planted in the tropics

sprouted hope for mercantilism

 

the islands made power and capital

look promising

like

cotton + sugar + tobacco

and molasses + rum + strong brown bodies

(Black Gold)

 

the natives died

but the work had just begun

New World Economics

the Slave Coast – supply

LABOR – demand

 

nation states went to war

enslaving enemies

kings and merchants

selling beings and souls

for cloth and booze

and the almighty cowrie

 

sell or be sold

 

there was no hiding in the Jungle

the coastal outpost knew how to find them

if not, they were delivered

fresh to the factories

 

… awaiting export

 

the Middle Passage

dared them to survive the months below deck

the lucky ones reached the light

before the ship reached shore

kidnapped in vain

only a shadow of their existence

lingering in the corners of the hull

 

Maafa ­

 

the Mother Land traded slaves

long before the Americas called for any

prisoners of wars

hapless captives

but the Europeans created a monster

a relentless market

Africa was slowly

[then quickly]

bled of its human resources

its present

its past

and its future

 

 

 

 


… journey

 

oases and horizons

 

i’ve walked through the Valley of Death

hoping my dreams would meet me halfway

or maybe be only a few steps short

i’d walk the extra mile or so to reach them

but the heat

or the depth of this earth

must have bamboozled my mind

because I thought I saw them

dancing on the horizon

but then again,

there was an oasis some ways back

that ended up being cracked ground

as thirsty as I to be nurtured

with only but a drop of something reinforcing

 

i thought everything was in line

the stars and planets

my efforts and sacrifices

but it was all a mirage

the product of a starving mind

running on the fumes of a tired heart

putrid energy

circulating

fueling a machine that still recalls what it was like to be human

naïve and full of hope

 

times have changed

and the world I knew has since evolved

accentuated by each season’s temper

each butterfly’s effect

something rippled,

who knows exactly when,

and prolonged the race

pushed the horizon a little bit farther

tempting those dreams to stop dancing

because where I stand

is beyond where they imagined we’d ever have to meet

farther than we’d ever agreed upon

 

but I’ll keep walking

from oasis to oasis

until I reach where land meets the sky

my dreams and I will be there to make the introduction

 

 

… i wrote this a while ago but I’m currently reading a book that sort of hit the topic right on its head …

“…our culture is not good about teaching journey, we only show result. That’s why most people don’t ever reach their dreams—they were never taught to build their foundation first.”

– Hill Harper

 

 


… libations

… first post of 2012. Indeed we are a few weeks in but this year started at a sprint for me and has been moving along nonstop.

Aside from the personal and professional ventures I’ve been pursuing, I’ve been working on a few short stories [which, if you’ve noticed, don’t get posted on here]. But I must admit, I’ve missed the poems and have abandoned the page long enough.

So, in honor of the new year, let’s toast. May 2012 be prosperous and, if nothing more, enlightening …


… put in motion

 

… historically, the North has always been perceived as more conscious and accepting of African Americans as a people. Although the ills of racism plagued the nation as a whole, the main issues with inequality were more prominent in the South. For ten-plus years after the end of the Civil War, Reconstruction was in order to establish and ‘protect’ the rights of newly freed slaves and the entire Black population, but there were loopholes—Black Codes and Jim Crow Laws.

The South’s racial caste system was predicated on, amongst other things, preventing interracial relationships; protecting white women from black men.  It was clear that there was to be no fraternization. In 1954, segregation in public schools was ended by the decision in Brown versus Board of Education.  An overall victory for the race, desegregation proved to be a curse for certain individuals.

Emmett Till, a Chicago native, fell victim to the [lack of] advancement of society …

 

The Catalyst

 

14 and foreign,

of the same country

but a stranger to this land’s unspoken laws

back home, different colors mixed

dared to touch

to evolve

but as you ride the current south

the Mississippi washes away time and social progression

even though the people look the same

humanity is otherworldly in the Delta

 

the boy whistles

she cries wolf

just wait Till her husband comes home

You Better Run, Nigger!

 

an eye for an eye

“how much for a glance, Ma’am?”

 

he is left wading in the river’s waters

beaten and shot for good measure

weighed down by a Cotton Gin Fan

of slavery’s past

 

a Northerner

spoiled by desegregation

disillusioned by a subtle taste of equality

he was mailed home, swollen in a box

laid to rest

open-faced for the world to see

a sacrificial lamb, a martyr

the beginning of a grander movement