Poetry by R.D. Johnson : (Not Just On) Juneteenth

(Not Just On) Juneteenth

Been a little over year
Of people having to be reminded of what black is
A reminder of the anger and a reminder of the sadness
Still the fact is
It shouldn’t take a trauma for you to understand a trauma
Only thing we are doing is piling it up
Adding a comma
Some try to be empathetic others will just call it drama
And God got something for they ass
I’m a call it karma
What goes around comes back around
And let’s just use it to describe 2020
We traded chains and shackles 
For cuffs and death
Something we saw too many
A nation went from uniting like minded people
To further put a division between everyone
To the point that folks can’t even be subtle with their racism
So what can one do?
We continue to be a voice
We continue to be the change
We continue to persevere
We have to…
We have to withstand any and everything
Now so those that come after us don’t have to as hard
Just as generation after generation had to
Just remember me as the bridge
Someone on the journey to a better life
I’m black
I’m proud
Give me my flowers while I’m here
And not just on Juneteenth
Everyday 
And don’t forget me when I’m gone


Bio: Follow R.D. Johnson on twitter @r_d_Johnson                                                                                     R.D. Johnson is a pushcart nominee, a best of the net nominee for Fevers of the Mind  "(Not Just On) Juneteenth"    Reggie is an author reigning out of Cincinnati, Ohio. At the age of 9, he found a love for writing while on summer vacation. With influences from music, Reggie has created a rhythmic style of writing to tell his personal experiences and beyond.  Reggie has several books available on all major online retailers and his work can be seen in various literary magazines. He currently has two columns, Drunken Karaoke featured on Daily Drunk Magazine & REPLAYS featured on The Poetry Question. https://thepoetryquestion.com/category/replay-rdj/      


A Review from “Thank You For the Content III” by R.D. Johnson (Reggie D. Johnson)

4 Poems by R.D. Johnson : Malcolm & Martin, Angels, Dr. King’s Dream & February 1st (re-post)


Poetry by Catrice Greer: Come Home

Come Home a poem for George Floyd (June 7, 2020 Catrice Greer)

These wombs, sacred,
we build placenta worlds of blood and bone
cord by cord, cells churning with life
a zygotic landscape

s .. a .. f .. e

safe from gunshots, lethal force, blue bias, blows
safe from bent-tongued accusations, chokeholds, grief
tears and pain light-years away
the amniotic sac aglow
you hear only my voice

Mommy

I walked with you, my love, my sun
floating close to my own heartbeat
tethered in the mitochondrial house
we are one
my peace, your peace

my child, to lose you to this world
that does not know you
never carried you
is not the deep-rooted tree of life I birthed
a premature exit is not the afterbirth of my labor

Call my name
when the end is near
I will come again for you
I will come again for you, my angel
my sweetness
you will reside here with me, rest in peace.
Come home.

breathe
breathe
breathe

Wolfpack Contributor: Catrice Greer

Fevers of the Mind Interview Catrice Greer w/poetry “Yearning Through the Fog” & “Cortical Cartography”

5 short poems by Rose Knapp : Immortality,George Floyd, Prayer, Jaguar Dreaming,Empress of the Night

Immortality

Is it possible to truly live for ever?
Are not even the greats eventually forgotten,
Relegated to a footnote of history?

George Floyd

I CAN’T BREATHE! Asphyxiation, apathy
Nine excruciating minutes of torment
A year of protesting and fighting for truth

And then at long last a sigh of relief in Minneapolis
And around the world. Not justice, but accountability

Prayer

Is prayer an effective way to approach
The multifaceted evils of this allegedly fallen world?

Is prayer, like astrology, psychologically Effective?
Or is it a hangover from a more
Superstitious age? Remnants of belief

Jaguar Dreaming

Jagged jade Jaguar jumps out of 
The surrealist unconscious jungle
That gives meaning to the mind

Empress of the Night

Queer queen of the night, sparkling reds 
And stark shades of black blaze onwards
Flashing flesh to fickle phantoms of the night



Author Bio:

Rose Knapp (she/they) is a poet and electronic producer. She has publications in Lotus-Eater, Bombay Gin, BlazeVOX, Hotel Amerika, Fence Books, Obsidian, Gargoyle, and others. She has poetry collections published with Hesterglock Press and Dostoyevsky Wannabe. She lives in Minneapolis. Find her at roseknapp.net and on Twitter @Rose_Siyaniye  


#stopthehate Poems by Malak K Chehab : Flood of Faith, Who Says? Untitled, & Real or Shadows

Pray, Hands, Praying Hands, Sculpture

Flood of Faith

The floodgates of heaven are open.
Deluge, drizzle, gush, sprinkle, full blown storm,
All pouring down on the unsuspecting human
Who looks to the sky for hope and prayer
That their wishes will be realized in little time?

A connoisseur revels in such a flood of hope,
Peace, and satisfaction in seeing their fortune 
Grow like the plant taking from the soil in the hope
To welcome the sky with its dainty fingers, in a breath,
That could touch the limitless well of yearning that's baby blue.

What's wealth in contrast to health and peace of mind?
Where there's money, there is covetousness 
and fear
Of loss of material power and overpowering those weaker.
When health is the issue,  no amount of money 
Or bribery will endow your blossoming again.

Finally,  if your conscience is clear, you can sleep 
Deeply without any worries as your faith and morals
Adhere to something greater than the worries of humans;
Your perception is a well of knowledge that those 
Who follow their values instead of social edicts
Will never feel the need for more and more money, only faith. 

Real or Shadows

Tug of war, tug of joy, tug of fear,
While tugging at shadows of terror
The horror before me leaves me asunder.

Toddlers screaming at one another
The incomprehensible presence of others
Of the same size, behavior, and voices bother.

Their tiny fingers touch and retreat quickly 				
Unbelieving that they are real, unlike the scrutiny 
That's only an image in the mirror that you study.

These toddlers are three years of age
And have rarely interacted with babies on a bike.
They panic when inundated with as many a babe.

Run, scram, hide, rake, scratch, scream at them all
Making sure you're heard having a Devine ball
Jumping from one room to the next after each fall.

How do we manage kids' trauma caused
By the imposed isolation that bred
Mistrust and trepidation from youngsters that fears abound?

With vaccines around, life may take reign again, 
How will adults behave after such imposed pain
Of seclusion, social distancing, and nary a train

To transport you past the need to be alone,
Not lonely, no, just alone in your bubble home.
It's more serene and relaxing that way for thee.

Who Says?

Who says you have to be perfect?
Who says perfection is all it’s cracked up to be?
Who says you have to follow all the rule? 
Who says you have to live with the stereotypes of gender?
Who says you can't make your own way?
Who says you can't impose self-respect?
Who says that life is but an evil fairy tale?
Who says that magic and wonder exist?
Who says you aren't an island?
Who says you can't survive, alone, happily?
Who says your beliefs are nothing but lies?
Who says your faith is ridiculous?
Who says your values aren't shared?
Who says that science has taken away wonder?
Who says that life isn't itself a wonder?
Who says that magic doesn't infiltrate all your pores?
Who says that love, values, God aren't your only recourses?

Untitled

"Man has it all in his hands, and it all slips through his fingers from sheer cowardice." Fyodor Dostoevsky

To be a coward, 
One must:

Fear being changed, 
Fear loving it,
Fear beauty,
Fear being hopeful,
Fear the inspirational,
Fear of being an individual, 
Fear of being assertive, 
Fear of being humane,
Fear of being disruptive,
Fear of being positive. 

When all is locked in a chest,
How can you break its best
From solid bonds that need a rest?

Take pride in 'you', the 'person's,
Have faith in yourself and press on,
Knowing that what's right will live on!


Bio: 
Hi, my name is Malak Kalmoni Chehab.  I am an introvert who was born to Lebanese parents in Ghana.  When the Civil War broke out there, we moved to Lebanon only to face the same problem; so we moved to Canada.  I was raised there as a teen and young adult, before marrying and moving back to Lebanon.  I married, had 3 kids, raised them there and went back to University there to complete my teaching diploma and MA in Comparative English Literature. I taught all levels of school and college, before the political situation went down the drain, and had to move to Canada with my kids to provide a better future for them.  My husband, a veteran, whose career spanned over a quarter decade, helped me meet a variety of social classes, whose problems were freely discussed.
Living through such upheavals has made me bear witness to injustices that are inhumane, and they’ve stayed within me until I had the courage, inspired by my children and husband, to start writing, as they knew my love of reading and disappointment in third world countries’ political climates that are the results of colonization

#stopthehate challenge by Anneka Chambers : NINE

blue yellow and black graffiti on wall
NINE  

Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
In an instant my body is slammed to the ground
Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
Exclaims from the public echo all around

Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
I am unarmed, handcuffed and I pose no threat
Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
Enforcement of this kind is unlawful, do you have no mercy, nor any regret?

Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
I am pleading with you, please stop!
Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
Emotionless is the expression of every standing cop

Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
I lay here helplessly, one against four
Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
Excessively this Officer pins me to the floor

Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
I am in excruciating pain
Nine Minutes I Fight for Life
Explain why you have chosen my soul to claim?

Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
I hurt until I bleed
Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
Executing your act of violence, as I cry and plead

Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
I cannot breathe, I cannot move, I only feel
Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
Encourage this Officer to remove his knee, from where he kneels

Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
I am doing all I can to hold on
Nine Minutes I Fight For Life
Every cell in my being is fighting this wrong

Nine Minutes And I Will Not Survive
I love you family, colleagues and friends
Nine Minutes And I Will Not Survive
Eventually My Life Ends.

REST IN POWER GEORGE FLOYD
25.05.2020  


Bio: Anneka Chambers (she/her) is a Black British Born Londoner. She is a Poet & Social Justice advocate, currently campaigning for the rights of the Windrush Generation in the UK. Anneka’s poetry can be found in South Bank Poetry Magazine, Isa Magazine, Brave Voices and Dwelling Literary amongst forthcoming publications. Insta: @22poetrystreet   Twitter: @annekachambers


 Wolfpack Contributor: Anneka Chambers

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Anneka Chambers

Poem by Anneka Chambers : Play On

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