Journey to New LoveSoul Ramblings

Fists, Bullets and Blood

Fists Bullets and Blood, a poem of uplift to my brothers by Greg Powell

Brother, I know rage like lava
In dormant volcano pressed down
By four centuries of stone stresses
To explosions only we can feel, and
Women we love and children we seed
And community we embody, scarred
by misdirected fists and bullets and blood.
I say to you dying is a waste of life
Rage inchoate is a waste of love
And a head unfed is a waste of crown.

Wake the fuck up alive man
On the strength of ancestors and future
Children seeking a shoulder to stand.
You are an original, redeemed from
Your worst acts of fists and bullets
Summoning blood from your beloved
And the times you fled the beast
Leaving your children for beast to feast
It’s redemption time brother of God’s image
To evolve unto yourself and beauty and power
From ancient griots to future hood prophets
And child raising revolutionaries of love

And woman sojourners through wilderness
migrations of American redlining purgatories
To a home our children shall discover
Bequeathed by our black man blood
Redemption time, my brothers
Hear the voice of Moses
In plantations electric where we dwell
In confusion of our rage locked under stone
Saying steal away ...steal away ...
Before we explode

If you enjoy Fists, Bullets and Blood, you may also enjoy The Ancestral Witness