More in Memory and Sorrow

When I announced the contest in memory of Michael Brown (and too many others now), my former student Jerry A. Scuderi sent me a few poems, which I will post tonight.  Although these do not directly reference recent events and their injustice, their spirit fits.  I hope that they will encourage you to submit your own work to this ongoing contest.  I also encourage you to submit poems of hope as well.

Do You Recognize Him ?

Who’s that man shouted and scorned on trial for his life ?
He is kind , a friend of mine ; is he the one with whom we dined ?

Who’s that man beaten and bruised tied to a post ?
His hands are bound , soldiers ‘round ; they crown Him with a wreath of thorns .

Who’s that man of spit and sweat assigned to a cross ?
He fell flat , under that ; how can He carry on ?

Who’s that man struggling up our hill to the garbage dump ?
He spoke to friends told of their end ; seems he loved them too .

Who’s that man with opened hand laying on a crosscut beam ?
He seems to know for no shame shows ; flint faced though his body

Who’s that man accepting nails ; being stood up on a cross ?
His eyes are sad , though He’s not mad ; He’s crying out for His Dad

Who’s that man of flesh and blood looking out over us ?
Soon He’ll sigh , then He’ll die , in this place of filth and stench .

He’s an innocent man ; our Paschal Lamb .
A man who loves us all .

He’ll take my place ; my guilt He’ll face .
For He Plans To Lead Me Home .

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BROKEN then CRUMBLED

Sitting at a table in the dark and the cold ;
screamed at and yelled at, I’ve done what I’m told .

I’ve listened and told you "That things aren’t that way" ;
why are you angry, don’t I have say?

Your staring and glaring, your insistence on "right" ;
leaves me to cower or into a flight .

I’ve known you as honest, you appear to be true ;
your "pushing and shoving", what’s this with you ?

You’re wrecking our finances, our "home­life" is gone ;
you won’t stop and listen, you won’t say you’re wrong .

You sit ‘round, lay ‘round, spending all that we have ;
you’ve mortgaged our future, all’s gone in a dab .

The joy, the laughter, the "I’m glad to be here" ;
they’re pushed in a closet, you’ve locked up our tears .

I sit here and ponder with sadness and sorrow ;
conflicts continue; small hope for tomorrow .

You’ve taken, you’ve closed down all hopes for amends ;
your insistence on "your way", your shouting defends .

You’ve leased out our future to have things your way ;
with strife and turmoil, how can I stay ?

For school and your business, the cost’s mounting on ;
our life and our future, see all is now gone .

"I’ll sit ‘round, or work when I’m feeling good ;
you just keep quiet, I say that you should ."

"Control my spending! That’s not what I do ;
say it, again . . . I remind you of WHO? "

"Go sit down, shut up, I’m in command here ;
you don’t have a "say", just trust me here, dear ."

You are frightening and screaming that things are my fault ;
from shouting and scaring we must make a halt .

Stop with this madness, I beg you, reply !
"DO IT. . . , DO IT. . . , DO IT ". . . . Then comes my sigh . . . .

Please turn around husband, I’m pleading you so ;
where you are leading us, I can’t and won’t go .

Open your eyes, see the folly of ways ;
our life’s giving out and your answer is " PAY ".

Our money’s all gone and so sadly are we ;
go stay in command, see there’s no final plea .

So I sit here often doing what I am told ;
biding my time, growing . . . oh so . . . very old .

I sit, try and reason, it’s safe as a fawn ;
my exit will come, as hope with the dawn .

Trust’s freely given, yet earned through the years ;
broken then crumbled, now comes the tears .

A little one’s here, I’ll not teach her so .
Now, you must leave! Now, . . . you must GO !

How will we be, in these diamond of years ?
Gone, will be you. Gone, will be tears .

I will get by and see us ok .
My direction’s before me. No Way, you can stay .

Take your control. These days are far gone .
My future’s before me. I’m back to my song .

I wish you the best of all that’s out there .
I’ll see you around . I’m back to MY CARES .
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Tiny Hands

Son, run a road to a little place of darkness and death .
You’ll go to a council of deceit ; be careful , I will fret .

In drive­way pulls a Porsche low ; windows shaded dark .
Their deeds hid from a caring world ; hear ne’er a bark .

Go for them brought in there , weighted with a nestled womb .
Lugging fright and hopelessness ; wandering to doom .

They’ll rip a premie from a womb ; no thought if it’ll hurt
Leave mom a shell , tie a plastic bag ; throw out the trash of murder .

Stand in their mist ; shake their hearts ; think of the little hands .
Push against injustice ; though justices say they can .

Stand tall there, son , in obstinacy ; chin high for all to see .
Speak the voice of an unknown soul ; for everyone must be free.
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Love and Justice

An old man watches his darling daughter , making for them "good times"
He sees his joy , as he works for free laying down baseball lines .

A politician misuses his people's funds ; saying " that's just how things go."
His son's problems get gossiped about , and now the whole world knows.

Love and Justice, stand side by side with ne’er a corner lost .
Fairness comes with it's price ; revel in it's cost .

A graying aid snaps a jacket ; then warms tiny hands so cold .
He'll say " Hi " ; smile and five ; they'll remember him when they're old.

A pre­school beauty chatters smartly ; her opinion she will express .
When decades pass , a mountain man will love her none the less .

Love and Justice , pillars of Truth know that they are here .
Learn again to skip and jump , and leave behind your fears .

Bent and scratchy a bitter old one adds to life a sigh ;
oh , the view through his eyes of anger , hurt , and lies .

Love and Justice , look and find , and don’t you call them Fate .
Wait on them , they’ll surely come ; and they will not be late !

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I will finish with some music for you, starting with Ambrose Akinmusire's "My Name is Oscar."  I have posted this video more than once, but it is still appropriate.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gt1ai0ZQ-IM

I've also been listening to some Dorothy Ashby this evening, and these songs fit.  First is "Myself When Young":https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hl9g10DSQGs

Next is "Heaven and Hell," also from The Rubiyat of Dorothy Ashby (1970):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f7_Baqn3hqM

I'll conclude with the Max Roach 5tet's Triptych (Prayer/Protest/Peace) from 1964:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5Dj7HQEasQ