Hollie Kawall

Bound

It's as if I could still hear the shackles of the iron chains scrapping against the sidewalks of my frustration,
the weight of my ancestors cries carried on my back,
searching for a revelation,
But only to discover the disappointment of this society

Every day I questioned these prejudice voices I heard like music from my beats,
Volume at a full 100%, I practically became deaf
Then I remembered, the cycle always repeats
They were never mortal,
their whole lives they were seen as the dead souls that walked among us,

They always tried to silence our voices , so they hung us from our throats
they never wanted us to speak, they never wanted us to be heard,
But even now, listen ....... Can you hear it ?

Their cries are even louder than when they were stripped naked and left in their shadows,
louder than when they were burned alive,
louder than their families who had to watch
Louder than the chains they were bind together by
Why ? Because we are their voices , their soul cries out of us like the Sea,
Protests of injustice, they wait for violence but we act peacefully

They stared blankly at the color of our skin and automatically had these feelings of hate,
The power of whites to determine my ancestors fate

I questioned why they looked at blacks and made the decision,
The decision to suppress the intellectual,
The decision that we shouldn't be the ones to be living

They were born into slavery ,
The umbilical cord wrapped around their necks,
Infants with chains was the vision of the future ,
The noose that would hang their souls ,
A cry for help as they died in vain

Nigger used to express feelings of anger and hate,
Dead flesh is what they saw them as,
Questioning what has become of their fate,
Passed on in generations of children,
Now used as a friendly greeting
Forgetting its origin, forgetting its meaning,
Brainwashed by the sinful society,
It is now known to be the norm

Black, came from the absorption of each color,
So if you discriminate me you discriminate your own kind,
I call it beauty , you see the opposite
Your words, your actions never thinking before acting ,
Not listening to the thoughts in your mind,

Life was ignorant , and ignorance is bliss,
To think that the arrogance came from the humans God put on this earth to live with
Ain't it funny though, the way that we live

We live in a generation of corruption,
Violence against blacks now a contradiction,
Siblings murdering siblings
Bleeding red and bruising blue all to protect colors that once united as one,
Now raising these colors with pride shielded by a gun,
Brainwashed minds filled with ignorance
But to society, shooting them was discipline

Now leaving our color black, African American race, vulnerable
They look at us and most times out of 10 we are the insignificant other,


The word ignorance was defined by our actions ,
Killing us off with the satisfaction , satisfaction that those so called hoodlums won't be around to corrupt the minds of the innocent,
Most times it is the innocent ones they call hoodlums,
The ones walking from the store, with a Arizona bottle and a bag of skittles, in his eyes known as a thug, for having his hoodie drawn as a weapon,


The ones at a bachelor party gunned down with 50 shots, the sound of gun fire was last thing to be heard, the ringing noise as he is slowly dying when the ringing should have been the bells of his wedding,
His Hands up in defense ," don't shoot", dont shoot , dont shoot , with every line , 3 shots to the head,
"I can't breathe, I can't breathe !", as they jumped on him, wrapped their hands around his neck, all because they didn't want to hear his mouth, suffocated, another innocent African American dead
Police brutality of the innocent, they were never proven guilty

The red white and blue of our flag,
Supposed to represent, freedom, independence , justice ,
All I see is , ambulance, fire trucks, police sirens,
freedom never existed, independence is slim, justice hardly ever prevails,
Not when he objective is to kill the nigger or be to be killed

"They say The greatest illusion of this world is the illusion of separation.

Things we think are separate and different are actually one and the same,

we are all one people so then I question ,

why is it we live as divided ?
 

I've been writing poetry from the time I was in elementary school. Writing for me was the best way for me to release the emotions I could never utter with tongue. Poetry is my art, my emotions, my release from the world. My art is always up for comparison and interpretation and that's what makes it unique. 

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