Soul on Fire

Passage Through the Times of Love

A Collection of Poems

A Poem

a poem is a key to the heart

it unlocks the vault to the soul allowing all to see
it speaks the truth even when deceit is in the air

a poem reaps of love and pain
a poem is much more than a group of words dancing across the page.
a poem is not just a poem

a poem is a key to the heart 

Love of a People

African American

African American
what does that mean?
who is it?

it could point to a group of people,
a community in need of a country,
a person in seek of the truth.

some have asked, "what's wrong with negro?"
some even feel comfortable with afro.
no not the damn hair style, the people.
black has also been in vogue for me.
however I feel the unity with
Africa, Africans,
I'm proud to be African American.

Kinship Among Brothers

*Dedicated to Chris, Doug, Gary, Juan, Melvin and Me.*

i remember their mouths yelling every morning
"get your lazy ass out of bed and go to class"!

and with tired eyes and reluctance
i got up I went to class
I may have even learned a thing or two along the way

we strove for life's happiness and good times
we fell in and out of love
we shared our heartbreaks and triumphs
we lived a harmony that seem natural and right
like a divine plan had placed us in the same space at the same time.

yeah they pissed me off.
yeah they got on my nerves.
yeah they were in all of my business.
so what!

society tells me black men can't love one another.
society tells me black men can't be supportive
society tells me black men are brutal
society tells me black men are downright evil

i feel sorry for those who believe the hype.
for the love felt black men
is spiritual and everlasting.

damn,
if they hadn't bothered to wake me up
it could have cost me my life!

Walking through the time of shadows

entering through the small passageways
leading into the vast emptiness
i look long and hard in awe at the nothingness,
is there something there?
what is it?

it's the weirdest feeling i've ever known
as i look, the darkness begins telling me a story
a sad and painful story
the dampness begins to grip me and i go you back
back to the torture, to death, to survival

over ten million pairs of eyes piercing my soul for answers
demanding freedom, wanting help,
accepting death instead of captivity

millions of shadows looking for salvation

the feeling becomes too much to take
the pain becomes too real to ignore
the journey is too long to go back

i turn and face the souls of my people
the millions of africans who survived and died
at the hands of the white christian slave master
cramped up and held in bondage for weeks, for months
dying slow and painful deaths
a tear drops and i become one with the pain
these are my people
Africans