My father is black and my mother is white. Therefore, I could answer to either, which kind of makes me a racial Lone Ranger, caught between two communities.
quote by Wentworth Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Caesar
Black Caesar was Australia's first bush ranger
And as his name suggests he was not white
And when caught up with by those who pursued him
He did not go down without a good fight.
A convict who was brought out in the first fleet
And a victim of harsh British justice and rule
Transported into exile and confinement
Man to his own kind can be very cruel.
Black Caesar was a victim of discrimination
And though he is seen as one who died in shame
Those who are sinned against can become outlaws
And for his crimes he was not all to blame.
You will find some good in the worst of people
And some turn to crime because of circumstance
And why condemn a fellow like Black Caesar
When the poor bugger never had a chance.
Black Caesar was Australia's first bush ranger
When to be poor was looked on as a sin
And worse for him he was born with the wrong colour
You well might say that he wasn't meant to win.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Half my father
Half my father
Half my mother
My mother white as a ghost
My father black as coal
In my face the mixture glows
My skin is white
Still I am a black man
By the make of my nose
My hair is curly
My eyes are gray
Within me both if them lives
My mother’s race
Did enslave
My father’s race
Was never paid.
Still within I bare the two
Am O the new American?
My father is white
My mother is Korean
They met during the war
And I was born
Their only son
By my tone of skin
And by my eyes
You can tell
That there is a divide
And by my blonde hair
It is there for you to spy
Am I the new American?
My mother is German
My father polish
I learned three languages
As I grew older
Both of them
Did love me well
And of each country did tell
That I could draw
From each well
Am I the new American?
My father is Chinese
My mother Spanish
Both crossed over the Rio Grand
I am in the make of my father
But I have my mother’s brown skin
Am I the new American?
poem by David E. Patton
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The Muse Of Life
Black and white horses,
Black and white cows,
All that muses is about life;
Cos', the wind blows to where it is directed.
Brown and white horses,
Brown and white cows,
The muse of life teaches us many tricks;
But, i've got rain and sunshine to crown the day.
The muse of a moose,
The bloom of a flower,
The blues of mankind to take the pieces;
The muse of life teaches many.
'The dish washer is not in the Bible'! !
Shouted the lone-ranger in need of love;
But, all that muses is about life.
Of cows and horses,
Of men and women,
Of Black and White Race to fill the earth;
Yes, all that muses is about life.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Lone Ranger! !
The lone ranger! !
All along,
All alone,
Down there in the bush;
Foretold,
Written down,
And, with great hope!
But, to stay at rest and to say the least.
The lone ranger! !
Once in a life time;
Searching for a place to call my home,
But, i am still alone in the bush.
Down there,
Out there,
Searching and hoping;
And like the muse of love!
But, to stay at rest and to say the least.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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My Parents
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you
I looking for you
to talk about my heart
which still ill
untill i will see you
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
You are the third one
In my small heart
After ALLAH and
And my prophet MOHAMED
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
Oh ALLAH is ordering us
Not to make them angry
Never to tell them
the smallest word ouufff
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
Oh ALLAH loves who
Makes his parents happy
And forgives those
Who have a lot of mistakes
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you
Oh ALLAH enter me
To the higher Firdaous
With my parents and
every single MUSLIM
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
poem by Abderaouf Laoud
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You Don't Mess Around With Jim
Uptown got it's hustlers
The bowery got it's bums
42nd street got big jim walker
He's a pool-shootin' son of a gun
Yeah, he big and dumb as a man can come
But he stronger than a country hoss
And when the bad folks all get together at night
You know they all call big jim "boss", just because
And they say
You don't tug on superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger
And you don't mess around with jim
Well outta south alabama came a country boy
He say i'm lookin' for a man named jim
I am a pool-shootin' boy
My name willie mccoy
But down home they call me slim
Yeah i'm lookin' for the king of 42nd street
He drivin' a drop top cadillac
Last week he took all my money
And it may sound funny
But i come to get my money back
And everybody say jack don't you know
And you don't tug on superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger
And you don't mess around with jim
Well a hush fell over the pool room
Jimmy come boppin' in off the street
And when the cuttin' were done
The only part that wasn't bloody
Was the soles of the big man's feet
Yeah he were cut in in bout a hundred places
And he were shot in a couple more
And you better believe
They sung a different kind of story
When big jim hit the floor now they say
You don't tug on superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger
And you don't mess around with slim
Yeah, big jim got his hat
Find out where it's at
And it's not hustlin' people strange to you
Even if you do got a two-piece custom-made pool cue
Yeah you don't tug on superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off the old lone ranger
And you don't mess around with slim
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father Of Night
Father of night, father of day,
Father, who taketh the darkness away,
Father, who teacheth the bird to fly,
Builder of rainbows up in the sky,
Father of loneliness and pain,
Father of love and father of rain.
Father of day, father of night,
Father of black, father of white,
Father, who build the mountain so high,
Who shapeth the cloud up in the sky,
Father of time, father of dreams,
Father, who turneth the rivers and streams.
Father of grain, father of wheat,
Father of cold and father of heat,
Father of air and father of trees,
Who dwells in our hearts and our memories,
Father of minutes, father of days,
Father of whom we most solemnly praise.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Messiah
Everybody got the right to speak their mind
So dont shoot me for saying mine
Everybody talking about racial equality
cos everybodys equal in the good lords eyes
But if I told you that God was black
What would you think of that
I bet you wouldnt believe it
Theres a self made prophet living right next to me
He said the black messiahs gonna come and set the whole world free
He looked at me with his evil eye and prophesied
And he really believed it
He said a black messiah is gonna set the world on fire
And hes no liar, cos he has truly heard the word
Everybody talking about racial equality
But Im the only honky living on an all black street
They knock me down cos they brown and I white
Everybody got the right to speak their mind
So dont shoot me for saying mine
Everyobody talking about racial equality
You hear everybody talking about equal rights
But whites white, blacks black and thats that
And thats the way you should leave it
Dont want no black messiah to come and set the world on fire
A black messiah is gonna come and rule the world
Everybody got to show a little give and take
Everybody got to live with a little less hate
Everybody gotta work it out, we gotta sort it out
Everbody got the right to speak their mind
So dont shoot me for saying mine
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother, Father
Mother, father please explain to me
Why a world so full of mystery
A place so bitter and still so sweet
So beautiful and yet so full of sad, sad...
Mother, father please explain to me
Why forests march to desert speed
While snowcapped mountains melt away
What do we tell our babies, when do we say, oh
Mother, father please explain to me
How a man who rocks his child to sleep
Pulls the trigger on his brothers heart
He digs a hole right to the middle of this storm of hatred
Mother, father please explain to me
How it could be so this world has come to be
A precious balance in between
Such cruelty and such kindness please
Mother, father please explain to me
How this world has come to be
Unequaled in her blessings, oh, I see
Unbridled hatred so extreme, please tell me
Mother, father please explain to me
How this world has come to be so
Twisted between time and dreams
Oh, mother, father please explain to me
Oh, whats all this talk about?
All this talk about it
Spinning down, down, down, down, down
All this talk about
Endless words without
Nothings done
Mother, father do you know
Why one mans belly overflows
Another sleeps in hungers bed
Oh, we trade our world for a piece of bread
Oh mother, father please explain to me
How this rare worlds come to be
A place so full of color yet overflowing
Always in black and white
Drowning in the waters of our...
Mother, father please explain to me
How this world has come to be
While still blessed in all the things we see
Such a sad, sad home for you and me
Come out, and hold,
Come on out you
Come on out you
Come and save yourself
Come on out you
Come on were taking the water
Were taken the water
Were taken the water
But you know
We got the freedom
We got the freedom
Theres no God above
And no hell below
Oh, its here with us
Its up to us
To keep afloat
How this sweet world has come to be
Oh to keep afloat
Mother, father please explain to me
How this rare world has come to be
Oh, let the blue planet
Let the blue planet
Mother, father please explain to me
Mother, father please explain
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll Be Home, Mother
“Mother, mother,
Mother”, I cried
There was no answer
My mother had died
Then “Father, father,
where are you? ”
Again no answer,
For he died too,
Great Reaper, Great Reaper,
When will you come?
There is no answer.
When there is
I’ll be home
poem by Fred Babbin
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Zebra Child
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
My father skin is fare like a pinkish cloud.
My mother skin is dark like coco.
My skin is both swirled into a light caramel color.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
My eyes are hazel with a hint of blue.
My hair is kinky yet manageable.
While I have African hips
I also have European lips.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
I relish my difference
Although some times
I envy others similarity.
But I am what I am.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
What Kind Of Father Are You?
Do a father leave his three daughter down and dry
Do a father come only three times out of a year
What kind of father are you?
Should a father leave his daughters just to take care of an other women son and daughter...
What kind of father are you?
Can a father broke a promise that he promise 10 years ago
Should a father be ashame of his three daughter looks or weight
If so what kind of father are you?
poem by Valentine White
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Broken people
I know them from an old photograph-
my father sits on a stump in knickers
stern father by his side
mother in black and white
scattering chicken feed
I remember my father drove us to
the island where he is buried
parked in front of an institution
that reminded me of a prison
a woman in white brought Ann to us
we say her in a hallway
a woman with a placid face
who was somewhere nowhere
he spoke to her in calm tones
she looked beyond
we never met
poem by Walter Durk
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Remembering Childhood
by accident you come across
an old picture
you recognize the face of your father
beside your mother
with his gun on the side of his body
as reservist of the army
you look closely
your mother pouts
and she is holding on to her
white skirt
you father's right hand grips
his gun
while the left holds on to
the chair just behind your
mother's neck
there is a baby being held
by your mother
it is sleeping and it looks
like you
your father does not like
you and you know it from the very start
you know how to pretend
till he died
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Politics
Their hobby is politics
Like
The kind of a mother-in-law
Emblemed by a pedestal-sickle
Or a burning stove
And a father-in-law
Emblemed by holding a crushed rosebud..
Their norms and ideals are green
Like
The kind of the flavouring, favouring mint field
Or the kind of a paddy field
Greenish, fleeceable, reaped seasonally seasoned
And politics is creased black and white
Like a crushed news-paper
And all the good 'in-laws sparsely noted
poem by Indira Renganathan
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On His Father's Side
On his mother’s side
Born in Bethlehem
On his Father’s side
No one before him
On his mother’s side
Growing and learning
On his Father’s side
All knowledge showing
On his mother’s side
Stuck in one location
On his Father’s side
Present in every nation
On his mother’s side
He was hungry
On his Father’s side
The multitudes he did feed
On his mother’s side
At Calvary he died
On his Father’s side
He was the essence of life
On his mother’s side
Buried like other men
On his Father’s side
He rose again
On his mother’s side
Human and weak
On his Father’s side
The God of eternity.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Male parental hierarchy.
My parents are two, grandparents four
And great grandparents, eight and so on.
I am known by my father, his father,
And his father and so on by male side.
My mother, her mother and father, their
Mother and father and so on are ignored.
My fathers’ mother and grandfather’s
Mother and so on go to oblivion.
I am known by my father, his father
And his father and so on as a family.
All women from whom I have drawn
Their genes have been shut out.
Parental hierarchy is represented
By male, women dislodged at every stage.
25.08.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Rednecks unite!
My father is my brother
My sister, with three ears,
Is his significant other.
My sister is my mother
And somehow, also my brother
My father's father am I
The vile thought makes me shudder.
Grandma was a mule,
Grandfather's sperm, she used as fuel
A french aristrocrat,
Made love to my mother, for he prefered his women fat
A letter written for my eyes
Containing news of demine
Said my true mother was some other
And my father, not her brother.
Jubilant and joyous,
My wife is what used to by my sister.. Or brother?
poem by Thy Mother
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At The Time When Mother Left For Ozamis
i remember now
it was at that time when mother packed her clothes
and left my father for good
back in the little village where mother
was raised by grandmother
as a naive girl
keeping things to herself.
she dwells in a house of silence.
it was at that time when father said
that he loves her very much
that losing her would mean his death
but mother was no longer in the house
where we grew.
and of course, mother did not really believe him.
she died ahead of him, and he got drunk everyday, and
he put her picture on top of his chest and he cried all night long
staring at her face, black and white, her hair her mouth.
he died a year after and he was buried just beside her pantheon.
i still wonder if mother would believe him.
the silence is overwhelming. no one sweeps the heaps of leaves
and no wind is strong enough to clean the mounds filled with thick grass.
come summer time, i see white daisies blooming, and a black butterfly
hovers to stop a while. I watch closely this new turn of events.
it is like poetry. Some metaphors. Symbols, and hints. Love's mouth
wanting to say all over again, what the heart has constantly hidden.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Daddy Please Don't Hurt Mommy
A little girl stood crying as the father beat the mother,
next to the girl stood her older sister, and older brother.
Alcohol was the demon that drove the beating hand,
the mother bruised, and sobbing cowards from the man.
Why does daddy do that thought the little girl?
Oh how I hate my father, he's the worst person in the world.
The mother now alone in the bedroom with a razor above her wrist.
'Please mommy don't do it, ' the youngest child did persist.
The father starves the mother, three days in a row,
the little girl hates her father, yet the father is too drunk to know.
Is alcohol the problem or does there exist more?
The little girl's answer comes from her sobbing mother lying hurt on the cold, hard floor.
poem by Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson
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