Friday, November 13, 2009

And So The Story Goes..

When we are removed from history textbooks
Our mistakes will follow in repetition.
And as we cry egyptian shaped tears
Your towers will paint the sky with corporate lies
Wicked men in glass shoes carry dull suitcases
Failing to realized that their fake smiles have left us
And no matter how deep the concrete goes,
No matter how high your building reach
And no matter how far your skyscrapers stretch
We are demanding more love.

I pity those men in fine armor
Chasing women with alabaster perfume
Enlaced on their wrists
Kissing dollar bills every time the clicking of heels step through their office
For these men do no understand the shame of card board boxes
Underneath underpasses draped in graffiti
Or the venomous veins carrying the weight of heroin through barren cities
They have forgotten the forgotten.
The minimum wage dependents
The less fortunate.
Your political scandals are raping us dry
Leaving no crack in between our attempts just to get by
How could you rewrite the words we've created?

You appear with red faces
Emptied from vacations
With sand still tucked behind your ear
Telling single mothers that they must leave
But you fail to answer the question of why
Your guns have not surrounded the poverty of unfortunate dreams.
Why are your wallets heavier than our education?
Your laws are corrupted sir, and you alone have deleted us from those history books.

Where did the three kings with the gifts go?
Where are the songs about strange fruit?
Where did the speeches about peace disappear to?

The pollution rises through the windows
Of your pent house
You cough on our deep breaths
You rest on our fallen hopes
You twist broken promises into strands of our hair
You avoid our eyes to remain innocent
You shake our hands unaware that the lifelines on our palms
Are not long enough and it is unfair
That these men are stripping away our sanity
They are stealing our identities
We are not your enemies
We are simply the unread words in your fairy tale fantasies
Though you pull our rehearsed sorry's from your pockets
We know that the truth is far from your mouth.

We must re-build the temple
And only hope that one brick can fix
Everything you've undone
And pray that our names are rewritten.

Love, Tianamonique.


Lamar Langston said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Schizophrenic Brooklynite said...

Love Your Work!

B. said...

beautiful i loved it!

Anonymous said...


Anonymous said...

you continue to inspire me. your words are so amazing! i loved this piece, and i love the work you do. keep it up! :)

tianamonique--* said...

thanks guyss =]