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Category Archives: DIASPORA DECODED

Since We’re Talking (Let’s Talk About The Talk)

05 Wednesday Dec 2018

Posted by steviestreets in DIASPORA DECODED, Poems, THE BLACK LIVES MATTER COLLECTION

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art is activism, black lives matter, police killings, social justice, the talk

Around the time when children learn their ABC’s,
Kids that look like me learn how to survive The New Jim Crow.

I remember when my Grandmother told me:
“Grandson you can’t be outside playing with no toy gun!”

She always feared them boys in blue would come through and shoot me for playing with a toy gun.

I remember learning about police killings while the neighborhood children were playing in the snow.

I remember when my Grandmother told me:
“Look at me boy. And pay close attention.
I know you are young, gifted, and black
But to them
You will always FIT THE DESCRIPTION.”

O how the fear in her eyes pierced my soul…
She feared when I let my hair grow.
She feared when I wore a hoodie.

I remember wondering:
Why is that Black Children can’t wear a ski mask when it’s cold?
Why are Black Men considered militant when we let our hair grow?
How they don’t mistake the white kids for hoodlums when they wear a hoodie?

Yet what I remember most about talking with my Grandmother was her affinity for her people…
Always dressed in black.
Always ALL THE POWER TO THE PEOPLE.
I remember the little lady that never took no shorts.
I remember the little lady that taught me to dream BIG.
I remember her wise words.
I remember her convictions.

I remember how Grandma would speak life unto me,
But for the life of me,
I can’t remember discussing the birds and the bees.
Yet I remember “The Talk.”

I remember self-care over welfare…
Nah, I don’t remember the birds and the bees.
Yet I remember many Talks.

O Grandma
I remember when you said:
“In the sixties, over 70% of the world’s dope fiends lived right here in New York.”

I now understand what you meant when you said they’d rather see us dead, addicted, or imprisoned.

Thank you for demanding that I take command of the language
And thirst knowledge.
Who knows who I’d be if you didn’t feed my poetic diction.

My poems are not poems…
My moral compass guides me to draw attention to social injustice, systemic racism, and other afflictions.

–@StevieStreets #historyheritageandhumanities #poem | Since We’re Talking (Let’s Talk About The Talk)

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Hashtag

18 Sunday Jun 2017

Posted by steviestreets in DIASPORA DECODED, Poems, THE BLACK LIVES MATTER COLLECTION

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hashtag, insert name, social justice, social media, socialism

Between the No Knocks and Stand Your Ground Laws… 

people of color have become fair game;

but IT’S NOT A GAME!

hashtag Insert Name,

another Brother or Sister slain;

hashtag HIM, hashtag HER, it’s too many to name.

hashtag IT’S TOO MUCH! 

hashtag I CAN’T BREATHE!

hashtag HANDS UP! 

hashtag FIND OUR GIRLS!

hashtag SAY HER NAME!

hashtag BLACK BOYS DESERVE TO GROW UP TOO!

hashtag SAY HIS NAME!

The writings on the wall… 

hashtag BLACK LIVES MATTER!

Yet another Brother or Sister slain…

hashtag HIM, hashtag HER, hashtag Insert Name,

hashtag HIM, hashtag HER, it’s become mundane.
Between Jim Crow and COINTELPRO…

people of color have always been fair game;

yet IT’S NOT A GAME!

hashtag Insert Name,

hashtag REMEMBER HARRIET MOORE!

hashtag REMEMBER HARRY MOORE!

hashtag REMEMBER ADDIE MAE COLLINS!

hashtag REMEMBER CYNTHIA WESLEY!

hashtag REMEMBER CAROLE ROBERTSON!

hashtag REMEMBER CAROL DENISE MCNAIR!

hashtag REMEMBER EMMETT TILL!

hashtag…

another Mother, 

another Father, 

another Sister, 

another Brother slain;

hashtag HIM, hashtag HER, it’s too many to name.

They killed MARTIN,

They killed MEDGAR,

They killed MALCOLM,

hashtag HIM, hashtag HIM, hashtag THEM;

there goes the eyewitness news team, 

hashtag ANOTHER BLACK MALE SLAIN.

They killed FRED HAMPTON,

They killed ZAYD MALIK SHAKUR,

They killed CHRISTOPHER WALLACE,

They killed TUPAC SHAKUR,

hashtag HIM, hashtag HIM, hashtag THEM;

there goes another Black Voice slain,

hashtag HIM, hashtag HER, it’s become mundane.
Between Colonialism and The U.S. Correctional System…

people of color have always been fair game;

but IT’S NOT A GAME!

hashtag THE WAR ON DRUGS IS CHEMICAL WARFARE.

I guess all that is fair is foul and all that is foul is fair…

Why’d they impose The Rockefeller Drug Laws after they put the needle in our veins?

Why’d the Reagan Administration flood our neighborhoods with crack cocaine?

Why the land of the free wanna keep us in chains?

they shackled AFENI,

they shackled ASSATA,

they shackled ANGELA,

hashtag HER, hashtag HER, it’s too many to name.

hashtag FREE ANGELA, 

hashtag HANDS OFF ASSATA,

hashtag SAY HER NAME!

hashtag REMEMBER FREE HUEY,

hashtag REMEMBER H. RAP BROWN,

hashtag THE BROTHERS AND SISTERS OF THE MOVEMENT that are still locked in the slammer.

hashtag THE REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED, hashtag THIS AINT A MOVIE.

hashtag I AM ELAINE BROWN!

hashtag I AM FANIE LOU HAMER!

hashtag ALL THE POWER TO THE PEOPLE…

hashtag REMEMBER FREE THE SOLEDAD BROTHERS!

hashtag FREE MUMIA!

hashtag FREE MUTULU!

hashtag BRING OUR POLITICAL REFUGEES BACK!

hashtag STAY WOKE, we’re under attack.

hashtag THEY UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT TRIED TO WIPE US OUT WITH HEROIN AND CRACK.

hashtag WHY ARE ALL THE PRISONS FILLED WITH BROWNS AND BLACKS?

Why’d the Clinton Administration privatize the prisons then impose the Clinton Crime Bill?

How’d we go from the North American Free Trade Agreement to Omnibus Crime Bill?

Why do they cut school budgets and mandate money for prisons to be built?

Why do they fail to prosecute the police when people of color are killed?

How long are we going to pretend we don’t see the genocide supervised by every U.S. President from Nixon to Clinton?

In the land of the free… police get off scot-free when they blatantly murder people that look like me;

meanwhile, my Freedom Fighters are still caged in prisons.

Pay Attention:

hashtag SUNDIATA STILL AINT FREE!

hashtag HERMAN BELL STILL AINT FREE!

hashtag VERONZA BOWERS STILL AINT FREE!

hashtag HIM, hashtag HER, another Brother or Sister in chains.

hashtag HIM, hashtag HER, hashtag Insert Name.

hashtag FREEDOM NEVER RINGS IF YOUR BLACK IN AMERICA!

My heart is heavy, they bombed the levees 

after they couldn’t drown us with heroin and crack in America.

Freedom Never Rings… even the Liberty Bell dabbled with crack; 

aint that America.

hashtag THE SCALES OF JUSTICE ARE UNBALANCED IN AMERICA!

Make America Great Again they exclaim;

yet Lady Liberty wears shackles and chains.

hashtag REMEMBER THE STATUE OF LIBERTY’S REDDISH BROWN COLOR,

hashtag REMEMBER HER SHACKLES,

hashtag REMEMBER HER CHAINS.

hashtag HIM, hashtag HER, 

hashtag ALL THE PEOPLE OF COLOR THAT HAVE SHACKLED AND CHAINED.

hashtag LESS PRISONS MORE SCHOOLS,

hashtag STAY WOKE, THE AMERICAN DREAM AINT COOL.

Woop-woop! There goes the sound of the police,

another Brother or Sister fondled by the beast…

another Brother or Sister detained,

another Mother restrained,

another Father restrained,

another Sister restrained,

another Brother restrained.

hashtag HIM, hashtag HER, Insert Name.

hashtag HIM, hashtag HER, it’s become mundane.
–@StevieStreets #hashtag #poem | Hashtag: #(insert name) parts I, II, and III

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To Shanequa Gay on Hashtag Practicing Blackness

24 Friday Feb 2017

Posted by steviestreets in DIASPORA DECODED

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Tags

art appreciation, black in america, commentary, open letter, sociology

February 24, 2017

To: @shanequagay

RE: Hashtag Practicing Blackness

I’m waiting on your book Ms. Gay… you’re psychoanalytic purview draws attention to the emotional parameters that are often left on the drawing board. You dab the diasporic psyche of “colored” folks like never before, when you blackout with #practicingblackness. I adore your color language; the vividness, the boldness, the unforgettable hues, the willingness to color outside the lines is greatly appreciated.

#peaceloveandpositivevibes,

-Stevie | To Shanequa Gay on Hashtag Practicing Blackness

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The Reader

07 Monday Mar 2016

Posted by steviestreets in DIASPORA DECODED, Haiku, Poems, THE BLACK LIVES MATTER COLLECTION

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books, I don't know how to dumb down, people, reading, standing on the shoulders of giants

I forgot… I’m not
supposed to be able to
read. I read you too.

My third eye is an
avid reader of people;
I can’t dumb it down.

I don’t know how to
dumb down, I read between the
lines with my eyes closed.

I read you like a
book – your actions told it all;
your character… wow!

I read through the eyes
of those that have died for my
right to read a book.

–@StevieStreets #idontknowhowtodumbdown | The Reader I – V

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Progeny: The Great Divide

14 Sunday Feb 2016

Posted by steviestreets in DIASPORA DECODED, Haiku, Poems

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one eye open, the bank of england, the federal reserve, the great divide, the rothschild family

The progeny of
hatred in America
was birthed in Europe.

The Bank of England…
the Euro-Americans…
the capitalist…

Federal Reserve…
European Central Bank…
same family tree.

Pirates and pilfers…
the central banking systems…
wars and slavery.

They made fortunes off
of people and artifacts;
tax and interest.

The land of the free…
founded by the ones in debt;
owners of slave deeds.

They invaded the
mystery schools, now they hold
imperial rule.

–@StevieStreets #oneeyeopen | Progeny: The Great Divide

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Nosce Te Ipsum

15 Sunday Nov 2015

Posted by steviestreets in DIASPORA DECODED, Poems

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know thy self, nosce te ipsum

Words are powerful… they taught you to pray, while they learned to prey.

 

Words are powerful… I refuse to allow those that have preyed on me to pray on me.

 

Words are powerful… they taught you to rally for world peace, while the world rallied for a piece…

 

Words are powerful…

they say charity starts at home; yet these Negropeans have lost their way home.

 

–@StevieStreets | Nosce Te Ipsum: #knowthyself

 

 

 

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A BROWN PAPER BAG OF FRUIT

21 Sunday Sep 2014

Posted by steviestreets in DIASPORA DECODED, Poems

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Tags

sociology, THE BROWN PAPER BAG TEST

Is it a boy?
Is it a girl?
Is it cute?
Pack a brown paper bag with fruit!

Go to the hospital.
Tell my daughter
you brought her fruit.
See if that baby is lighter than the bag of fruit.

You hold that baby.
Look at that baby.
Look at that brown paper bag of fruit.
See if that baby is darker than that bag of fruit.

Take this message to my daughter.
You look her in the eye.
You tell her the truth.
She cannot come home if that baby is darker than that bag of fruit.

Sorry Ms. Dixie! I’s can tell you now:
that baby’s daddy is SMUT BLACK.
What’s that? He’s a dark purple black; tall and cute.
I know that baby is going to be darker than this here bag of fruit.

You go to the hospital.
You tell my daughter
I sent her fruit.
She is not to come home with a brown paper bag of fruit.

Take this message to my daughter.
Tell her that baby is baggage.
If I could pass like my aunt does, that man would become strange fruit.
Get rid of that baby, if it’s not lighter than that bag of fruit.

You hold that baby.
Look at that baby.
Look at that brown paper bag of fruit.
Tell her she can never come home with a brown paper bag of fruit.

–@StevieStreets | from Diaspora Decoded: A BROWN PAPER BAG OF FRUIT

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