Must Be Freed
The ante-bellum Negro prayed,
For God to intercede,
And God in answer to him said,
'Your children shall be freed.'
The hand was seen upon the wall,
The fates at once decreed
That Negro bondsmen one and all,
Should soon be free, indeed.
'If Abraham Lincoln's president'
The South said, 'we'll secede;'
They apprehended he'd consent,
For Negroes to be freed.
To battle North against the South,
O'er states rights was agreed,
But echo from the cannon's mouth,
Said, 'Negroes must be freed.'
Confed'rates did with marked success,
McClellan's steps impede,
Till Abr'm Lincoln did confess,
That Negroes must be freed.
The Union boys with heaven's strength,
From that time did succeed;
And fought with valor till at length,
The Negro slaves were freed.
The Jim Crow car for Negroes made,
To crush their pride, indeed,
Has on the harps of thinkers played,
Those people must be freed.
The right of suffrage from the men,
Is taken out of greed;
A better day is coming when
They shall from this be freed.
Black men before the lyncher's rope,
In vain for mercy plead,
But justice cries, 'There is a hope,
From such you shall be freed.'
From ignorance and poverty,
From superstition's creed,
From those who crush his liberty,
The Negro must be freed.
The hand has written on the wall,
The clouds must all recede,
For God Whose word can never fall,
Says,'Negroes must be freed.'
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I Felt Freed
One day I awakened,
And there was an insignificance I sensed,
From yesterday!
That cleared the morning air.
There was something about my life,
That had arrived and I liked.
Appearing in my sight...
With such a happiness I could not ignore.
It was there to make certain,
I had been aware.
And whatever to me was done and/or said,
Before I laid my head down in my bed...
Prepared to flee.
Somehow this was unknown to me.
And when I had awakened it had fled!
No longer to me to be important.
To address as my priorities.
And I felt freed!
I felt freed.
I felt...
Freed!
To live a life much more motivated.
With a quest to face challenges...
I now seek and dare!
As opportunities to prove...
I can move anything off my path,
That isn't of benefit and doesn't belong there!
And I felt freed!
I felt freed.
I felt...
Freed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I read a funny story about how the Republicans freed the slaves. The Republicans are the ones who created slavery by law in the 1600's. Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves and he was not a Republican.
quote by Marion Berry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A False Prophecy
Dom Pedro, Emperor of far Brazil
(Whence coffee comes and the three-cornered nut),
They say that you're imperially ill,
And threatened with paralysis. Tut-tut!
Though Emperors are mortal, nothing but
A nimble thunderbolt could catch and kill
A man predestined to depart this life
By the assassin's bullet, bomb or knife.
Sir, once there was a President who freed
Ten million slaves; and once there was a Czar
Who freed five times as many serfs. Sins breed
The means of punishment, and tyrants are
Hurled headlong out of the triumphal car
If faster than the law allows they speed.
Lincoln and Alexander struck a rut;
_You_ freed slaves too. Paralysis-tut-tut!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Freed...
freed from having to eat only
twice a day,
from having to walk for a day
just to learn to read in school
from fetching water five mountains away
from washing my body
in that river where stones are slimy
where accidents are not seldom
from ignorance
and hunger and thirst and
indifference
from a room with triple deck beds
from a rotten dormitory
from teachers with narrow minds
from religious intolerance
from a belief that only we can be saved when this world ends
freed from a belief
that there is an ending to life
that there is only death that makes this life a meaningful stay
freed from the tradition of strong family ties that minds every detail of
how life must be lived
how funerals are conducted
what colors of candles what light is necessary
freed from Spanish rule from English domination
from from brothers of superior minds who think that only they know
where we must go
and stay
freed at last from myself who thinks that there is no more possibility
for growth
freed from an insecure living
freed from all those prisons that still lurk inside my mind
freed at last
from freedom itself
freed from fire and cold
from paradoxes and ironies
freed at last from cliches and constantly invoked metaphors
freed at last from the clutches of words
into the limitless thoughts
into sunless seas
into moonless nights
into inconceivable eternities
freed at last from the nucleus of my atom
into the mysteries of more explosions
mushrooming into space
beyond the bars of my
imagination
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In My Mind Am I My Enemy
If I get upset.
Regret those limits met.
In my mind am I...
My,
Enemy?
You,
Can't free me!
No way.
Until,
I know...
What that freedom means,
To me!
You,
Can't free me!
No way.
Until,
I know...
What that freedom means,
To me!
If I live in doubt.
And voice this from my mouth,
From dawn until the night falls...
Am,
I...
Free?
If I get upset.
Regret those limits met.
In my mind am I...
My,
Enemy?
If I live in doubt.
Are my needs freed?
And voice this from my mouth.
Are my needs freed?
If I get upset.
Are my needs freed?
Regret those limits met.
Are my needs freed?
If I live in doubt.
Are my needs freed?
And voice this from my mouth.
Are my needs freed?
If I get upset.
Are my needs freed?
Regret those limits met.
Are my needs freed?
You,
Can't free me!
No way.
Until,
I know...
What that freedom means,
To me!
No 'you',
Can't free me!
No way.
Until,
I know...
What that really means,
To me!
If I live in doubt.
Are my needs freed?
And voice this from my mouth.
Are my needs freed?
If I get upset.
Are my needs freed?
Regret those limits met.
Are my needs freed?
If I get upset.
Regret those limits met.
In my mind am I...
My,
Enemy?
And...
Are my needs freed?
And...
Are my needs freed?
And...
Are my needs freed?
And...
Are my needs freed?
If I get upset.
Regret those limits met.
In my mind am I...
My,
Enemy?
AND...
Are my needs freed?
AND...
Are my needs freed?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jim Crow Cars
If within the cruel Southland you have chanced to take a ride,
You the Jim Crow cars have noticed, how they crush a Negro's pride,
How he pays a first class passage and a second class receives,
Gets the worst accommodations ev'ry friend of truth believes.
'Tis the rule that all conductors, in the service of the train,
Practice gross discriminations on the Negro—such is plain—
If a drunkard is a white man, at his mercy Negroes are,
Legalized humiliation is the Negro Jim Crow car.
'Tis a license given white men, they may go just where they please,
In the white man's car or Negro's will they move with perfect ease,
If complaint is made by Negroes the conductor will go out
Till the whites are through carousing, then he shows himself about.
They will often raise a riot, butcher up the Negroes there,
Unmolested will they quarrel, use their pistols,rant and swear,
They will smoke among the ladies though offensive the cigar;
'Tis the place to drink their whiskey, in the Negro Jim Crow car.
If a Negro shows resistance to his treatment by a tough,
At some station he's arrested for the same, though not enough,
He is thrashed or lynched or tortured as will please the demon's rage,
Mobbed, of course, by 'unknown parties,' thus is closed the darkened page.
If a lunatic is carried, white or black, it is the same,
Or a criminal is taken to the prison-house in shame,
In the Negro car he's ushered with the sheriff at his side,
Out of deference for white men in their car he scorns to ride.
We despise a Negro's manhood, says the Southland, and expect,
All supremacy for white men—black men's rights we'll not protect,
This the Negro bears with patience for the nation bows to might,
Wrong has borne aloft its colors disregarding what is right.
This is called a Christian nation, but we fail to understand,
How the teachings of the Bible can with such a system band;
Purest love that knows no evil can alone the story tell,
How to banish such abuses, how to treat a neighbor well.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The habit of being happy enables one to be freed, or largely freed, from the domination of outward conditions.
quote by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Negro Schools
Please be silent now, my country, while I fill the speaker's place;
While I point out some abuses that we constantly embrace,
Listen with your best attention to the words that I shall say,
How the Negro schools are managed, in this Commonwealth today.
All the officers are white men and together they conspire,
To undo the schools for Negroes, of such deeds they never tire;
Oft we find among the trustees men who cannot read a word,
But when speaking of the Negro, they are certain to be heard.
Education for the Negro they discourage, and they say,
'It will bring dissatisfaction to such people ev'ry day,
Make them crave for something higher, such as white men should enjoy,
Which will spoil the other Negroes that we have in our employ.'
Shorter terms are recommended many times as low as two
Are the months to Negroes given, in a year—now this is true,
Longer terms the whites are given in the same communities—
They conform to such a standard of the right with perfect ease.
Poorer pay to Negro teachers, driving good ones from the field,
Schools are let to lowest bidders to the same they're forced to yield,
Higher pay and better teachers for the white schools is the cry.
While encouragement is given Negro schools to starve and die.
Rural libraries established for the whites on ev'ry side,
But when application's made for Negro schools it is denied,
Thus they deal with education for the mass of Negro youth,
Posing still as great exponents and conservers of the truth.
From the sword of fierce Goliath we may all a lesson learn,
How while planning death to others on your head it may return,
In regard to schools for Negroes, cease their welfare to neglect,
For the same will come upon you in a way you least expect.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Untethered
Freed me...
Peace!
Untethered
From boundaries
When the Sun did not visit
When I was amidst those
Carrying cloud clover...
Waiting for rain to support them,
As they searched for darkened shadows
To share discouragements!
Freed me,
Peace it did...
Untethered with life defined.
And enjoyed between downpours,
Of grief
I could not pretend existed any longer!
I was drenched with emotions,
And bitter I stayed wet too long!
Camouflaging my tears,
And blaming it on bad weather!
Freed me...
Peace!
It did.
And I don't do what I did before it came!
I don't stand in the rain and complain!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves, Robert Lincoln bought a nice ski lodge.
quote by Sarah Vowell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I freed a thousand slaves I could have freed a thousand more if only they knew they were slaves.
quote by Harriet Tubman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Era Freed
That strangle hold of deceit,
Released.
A ray of Sun appears,
Through the cracks of doors...
Slowly opening.
Tears are drying from needless wars.
And the urge to address...
The presence of conflicts,
Once pressed upon hearts...
Suppressed with burdens,
Lift to erase fear from faces.
An era freed of thieves and treason...
Comes.
Bold and daring.
And equipped to whip,
Those losing their hold on demonicness.
There is no place for evil to exist!
An era freed of thieves and treason...
Comes.
And those who choose to know it...
Will lay down their weapons in defeat!
'These are My people!
And you will let them go!
Or prepare to pay the price...
In your defiance! '
Sayeth 'The Voice' that speaks.
Witnessed by those who see...
An era freed,
From the misdeeds of wickedness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Abraham Martin And John (acoustic)
Has anybody here
Seen my old friend Abraham
Can you tell me
Where he has gone
'Cos he freed a lot of people
But it seems the good die young
I just turned around
And he was gone
Has anybody here
Seen my old friend Martin
Can you tell me
Where he has gone
'Cos he freed a lot of people
But it seems the good die young
I just looked around
And he was gone
Has anybody here
Seen my old friend John
Can you tell me
Where he has gone
'Cos he freed a lot of people
But it seems the good die young
I just looked around
And he was gone
I just looked around
And he was gone
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad Of The Black Slave
This is the ballad of the black slave,
Who has been beaten and disgraced,
Who has been called the n-word and negro,
Who has received no pay.
This is the ballad of the black slave,
Who prays for freedom every night,
Who is going to rebel,
For what he thinks is right.
Now this is the ballad of the freed slave,
Who has seen much blood shed,
Who has fought for equal rights,
And who has won his freedom.
poem by Michael Issac Palmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With a Readiness to Assassinate Characters
There are many trapped Negroes,
Still left behind.
And sitting on verandas, waiting...
To define themselves with wishes.
With dismissals picked,
That are easy to find!
As they pray to reopen doors...
Long abandoned,
On closed plantations.
Desperate were their needs then,
To be freed and released...
From an increase of oppressive treatment.
But mental struggles kept,
And harvested by those purists of bigotted limits.
Believing they are God's gifts.
And annointed to suppress and punish others...
As perceived from their own restricted lives lived.
In a valued wicked sickness.
And has left their land and taken stances,
Accepted as racist.
Showing their grievances on their bitter faces.
There are many trapped Negroes,
Still left behind.
With mindsets confined and enslaved.
Praying that an obeying.
Will deliver them with souls saved.
In the heavens suspended,
With harps and wings.
And praises to sing!
There are many trapped Negroes,
On expanding lazy butts!
And loving unaccountable responsibility...
That leave generations,
Annoyingly spoiled and absent of guts!
But strutting their vacant beliefs...
On filthy streets that reflect their philosophies.
There are many trapped Negroes,
Crying on the outside.
Yet denying on the inside...
They have no identities at all!
And they are lost.
There are many trapped Negroes,
Hating the fact they call themselves 'black'.
With desires to be found as clowning 'nigguhs'.
And doing their best to 'Step 'n Fetchit'.
On a backward track.
And sustaining a hip-hop gladness about that!
'Whoa...Hey!
Don't you feel some will find what you reveal offensive? '
Of course!
Especially those who oppose being referred to as Negroes.
And those African-Americans who can't stand to be called 'black'.
But not those mulattos who are thrilled to represent...
Just what it means,
To be descendents of Queens and Kings.
And proud it's digested.
Confessed and expressed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Southern Press
When a Negro comes in question you may watch the Southern press,
See how bias its opinions, how his ills are given stress,
Prominence is given headlines, when accused he is of crime,
Emphasizes all the evils of the Negro ev'ry time.
If a white man comes in question you may watch the press again,
How its dignity it loses in a compromise with sin,
Down in some secluded corner you the story may behold,
Where the public may not find it, sadly there the tale is told.
It condemns the sins of Negroes which in white men 'twill excuse,
If a Negro's crime is grievous here's the heading it will use:
'He's a candidate for lynching,' in a type that's bold and plain,
If a heinous crime's committed by a white man, 'he's insane.'
When the Negroes prove their manhood and their homes protection give,
They're pronounced as desperadoes and too desperate to live,
Nothing like its ever published of a white man, though his case
May be ten times more revolting and far deeper the disgrace.
At some public place if Negroes are mistreated by the whites,
When policemen won't arrest them or defend a Negro's rights,
Though the proof is overwhelming and the public ear it gains.
How conspicuous the silence that the Southern press maintains.
When a good is done by Negroes of the same you will not hear,
With their ills the press is busy and the good cannot appear,
Wrong, if found upon a Negro, will be charged up to the race,
But if white, with him 'tis ended, brings his people no disgrace.
See! the Southern press is bowing to a god that's made of gold!
And the populace is crying in a way that's passing bold,
'It must run to suit our fancy or the gold we'll take away!'
So the press can rise no higher than the common people say.
Humbleness will be exalted, exaltation be abased,
To the press it sounds a warning blest humility to taste.
Exaltation in a measure waves its banner over all,
But such pride will bring destruction, haughty spirits bring a fall.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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Emancipation Day
The sixties brought a clash of arms—
The mem'ry of it thrills and charms—
While Negro slaves for freedom prayed,
Till Heaven bowed to give them aid.
The God of nations—God of right—
Kept back success within the fight,
Till Lincoln vowed on bended knee,
To set the Negro bondsmen free.
The first of January, see!
In eighteen hundred sixty three,
The first Emancipation Day,
When mad oppressors lost their sway,
The sun of freedom rose that day,
The night of bondage drove away,
When sainted Lincoln did decree,
That slaves forever should be free.
As years of time have come and gone,
For each the Negro race has borne,
Abundant fruit in freedom's name,
That will not bring the nation shame.
Emancipation Day, so great!
With joy we meet to celebrate,
The Sun of Righteousness we hail,
Who died that freedom might prevail.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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I Choose To Be A Rooster
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed from being locked up inside of a coop.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed from being locked up inside of a coop.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.
And before the dawn,
I can disturb your sleep.
And as the Sun arises,
You wont hear from me a peep.
Because,
I choose to be a rooster.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.
And before the dawn,
I can disturb your sleep.
And as the Sun arises,
You wont hear from me a peep.
Because,
I choose to be a rooster.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed from being locked up inside of a coop.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.
Because,
I choose to be a rooster.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Prejudice
How strangely blind is prejudice, the Negro's greatest foe!
It never fails to see the wrong but naught of good can know.
'Tis blind to all that's lofty, yea, to truth it is opposed,
Degrading things will ope his eyes, while good will keep them closed.
How cruel, too, is prejudice! how wicked is the tongue!
The evils reign supremely there, the bad is ever sung;
With some the Negro needs a soul, with others he's a brute,
In silence those remaining live and naught of this dispute.
The schools it legislates against, in keeping Negroes down,
Whatever tends to elevate it meets it with a frown.
It gives to them the Jim Crow car and vessels on the sea;
It makes the stockade to exist and take their liberty.
It makes the press to vacillate up the Negro's name,
The pulpit makes a compromise with evil, for the same,
It makes the Pharaohs of today and seals them with its ban,
It strives to close the door of hope upon the Negro man.
It causes mobs to formulate, to come and go at will,
At morning, evening, noon or night, a Negro man to kill,
It brings injustice to the courts when Negro men are tried,
It wrings the ballot from their hands—a thousand wrongs beside.
It is the country's greatest curse, the nation's open sore,
It slowly saps the precious life, is poison to the core,
Such ravages gave certain death to nations in the past,
The same will lay this country low, its fondest hopes will blast.
It minimizes all that's good and magnifies the ill,
The devil's mission upon earth, it clamors to fulfill;
'Twas prejudice that caused the death of Christ upon the tree,
He knows the pangs that Negroes feel and gives them sympathy.
When men refuse to see the light a darkness is assured,
Such blindness comes upon the scene as never can be cured!
Contagious is the dread disease, for Negroes learn to view
The white man with suspicious eyes, but here's a thing that's new.
The Negro Problem of the land, and all the same entails,
Will be no more whene'er we find a sentiment prevails,
To bury prejudice so deep it never can arise
Till all the races of the earth shall meet above the skies.
Twas God who made the Negro black, the reasons are His own
One blood the nations all the same, the facts are too well known,
He also made the Golden Rule, to use the neighbor well,
Shall prejudice among us dwell forever? who can tell?
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Creed Indeed
I have a creed:
In word and deed
I will proceed
Without the greed
That can impede
Me to succeed.
I will feed
But not exceed.
I won’t use weed;
I’ll often read,
And be studied,
And thus be freed
From the need
To be pitied;
But not envied
And, too, copied.
Besides varied,
I’ll be journeyed;
My home tidied
(Maybe married) .
If I’m bullied
I'd rather plead,
And maybe bleed
Than be dirtied.
Advice I’ll heed
And not mislead
My future seed.
When I’m wearied
I’ll be carried,
But when readied
Myself will lead.
I will not cede,
Perform misdeed,
Or stay worried
My life.
Agreed?
-written and submitted by
poem by Shadigo Claws
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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