One Love suggestion by Greg Powell

Give It A Try

Just give it a try Won’t you give it a try World closing in with constrictions Seem like no better days ahead Make you give up your convictions And bury your soul for dead But I got a better suggestion For a world pressed down in depression One Love the way to progression Open our hearts to Jah soul impression […]

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Pride in His Stride is a poem inspired by Greg's son's graduation

Pride in His Stride

Ancestral pride is in his stride, His destiny forward march Refined in pressure of midnight hours Refusing surrender to slumber as mind Wrestled with knowledge until It blessed and changed his name. I Don’t know him, but feel his triumphant Procession around the corner, walking In flight to future purchased by prayers. Warm breeze dripping off robe Like black wings/ […]

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Greg Powell pens a poem about his family farm

Break the Soil

Break the soil Plant the crop New life begins When seed drop Sun beams down Caress the ground Soon rain come Roots abound This how we live Love seed we give Fruit we bear When we forgive And grow in earth Divine rebirth In common Spirit We all have worth Let’s break the soil Plant the crop Hueman uprising From […]

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Mother's Glory, a poem by Greg Powell to his favorite mother

Mother’s Glory

Love so profound it’s umbilical Cord of life, of beauty so lyrical Transcending pain and death mystical Moments and memories sweetly whimsical Shared heartbeat drumming musical Tears that drip joys not tragical Eyes glisten with peace spell magical Got mother in spirit and mother by my side Couldn’t imagine the trip when she was my bride She became mother before […]

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Reflections on America: Waiting for the George Floyd Verdict

Reflections on America: Waiting for the George Floyd Verdict

The defense has rested after the dance. Impressive, this very familiar American dance around, and every now and then toward imperatives of justice. The defense and their defenders demand we suspend the evidence of things plainly seen. Or perhaps we see through the lens of those who do not perceive our lives as human. For people of color this is […]

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Killology a Poem by Greg Powell reflecting on the 2020 movement

Killology

Their philosophy their Theology of hypocrisy When it gets to me Is killology Suffocates the biology Of darker side of human tree Their hatred is in symmetry With bloody leaves on hanging tree Killology a theory of predatory Manifest destiny inflict misery It’s a mystery we don’t burn this shit down Or maybe we should but our humanity gets in […]

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Gethsemane Preacher on a Saturday Night by Greg Powell

Gethsemane Preacher on a Saturday Night

preacher strains, sweat dripping like Jesus’ garden blood. somebody help him with a shout praise or life lifted out hell. preacher no pimp. he love the folk, all their sadness gladness badness madness, his cross to bear in midnight hour when he prays, sweats out blood, face embedded in carpet and clasping hands, for their souls and his own. begs […]

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Black Love in Inner Space for Deborah Powell

Black Love in Inner Space

For My Forever I don’t take it for granted These moments earth Rotations minutes moments Years and sunrises like now In dim light of cold morning The rise of your sleeping breast Comfort me with blessings Of a new day a new sun Rise and anticipation of open Eyes greeting mine: good morning Baby, thankful for more of this Good […]

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Daddy's Voice by Greg Powell - poetry for Being Hueman

Daddy’s Voice

(For Dad’s 87th Birthday) Memories dim and refracted In days gone and presently lived Of Daddy’s voice, barely remembered. But presence magnified/ residue like Star dust everywhere And in everything I am. He taught me a man can love With beauty beyond gender Nourish a garden he didn’t Even know how to plant. How Did you do it, I asked […]

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About America on Jan 6th Greg Powell wrote a poem

Ku Klux Koup

(Artwork by David Horsey, © Tribute Content Agency) disruptive image on screen snatches eyes. media faces strain to describe moving images moving beyond fence of comprehension: the Queen pundit gives them truth to speak and they call them rioters, reluctantly, sight dimmed by lens corrupted for 400 years. Summer home owning normal American’s adorned in horns of dead gods and […]

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