My uncomfortable truth
prompted you to
ask me if I
consider myself American
and what that title means.

Oh, I’m American, indeed
I’ve considered many things as I’ve tussled to undo
The inculcation meant to make me a
Patriot
On the road to realization that America means something different to me than it means to you.

It means the telling of my history in this land starts at bondage while yours starts at courage
So your ancestors could brag about coming over
While mine wailed of overcoming

It means you dabble in my history as an exercise of periodic contemplation
But it’s compulsory for me
to memorize yours on the path to graduation

I have a social security number
But no security
I have a hometown
But no home

You can trace your family name back to your motherland
But I can only track mine back to where my folks were fieldhands

Your ancestors sorted us into colors like laundry
And now that we take pride in our pigmentation
You take pride in claiming that my complexion
Is something you can’t see

It means whatever you do is because you’re you
but whatever I do
Is because
I’m us
You ever carry the weight of a race on your shoulders?
Even once?

It means your heroes are hailed for making a way for my people
Your hero, the Great Emancipator, who proclaimed,
“I am not, nor ever have been, in favor
of bringing about the social and political equality
of the black and white races.”
Your hero, Lincoln, proclaimed
“I am in favor
of having the superior position assigned to the white race."

Some savior…

And because of that when someone who looks like you gets a look, their resume can’t be denied
But when it’s me, you’re quick to question if we’re even qualified
So we pay our black tax, twice as good for half

But nevertheless, we are creators
Of air conditioners and almanacs
3D tech and protocol to chit-chat over the internet
Improved elevators, the traffic light, and the pacemaker
Because we’ve always been pacesetters

But when we do this
And still fight injustice
You say stop complaining
You’ve arrived
You’re officially more like us than
Them

You, pure, standard issued American
Me, on the dark outskirts
Until you deem my worth
Part of me used to appreciate your acceptance
Until I unwashed my brain

It means on days I feel I can touch the stars
Someone tries to convince me I won’t
It means I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t
But I do anyway
Because someone did for me

It means the lies about us have permeated the globe
So when I travel, they grab their children and purses because
they only know the prejudices
they’ve been told

It means we’re always too much and we’re never enough
Malcolm was too radical
Martin was too uppity
Rosa was too defiant
Huey was too dangerous
Kamala is too snarky
Tulsa was too mighty
Colin was too divisive
Angela was too violent and hip hop is too
But anybody who looks like you?
Good, good people

What’s most amazing about grace is who
you’ll withhold it from
but extend it to

This skin’s a blessing and curse cause it don’t crack but it might burst
Under the weight of carefully constructed
Confusion and hate

You think you own my thoughts of my experience?
You think you can build another you from me
Like yet another model minority?
Well, I recognize all this history
And own what it means
And throw off a mask of shame so I don’t suffocate
and build a legacy on my ancestors’ dreams at any rate
And fight for anybody deemed less than
And pursue liberty and help create our happiness, in spite of this country’s sins

So tell me, sir
Considering what your ancestors claimed they came here to do
Is my American
American enough for you?

Jasmine N. Cochran
February 2021

Spirit Eagles soar, not fly.

To realms beyond the visions,
Of man.

To heights, beyond the eye.

To distances far exceeding,
The dreams of man.

Only to strike, when least
Expected.

Found as one, not in a flock.
Spirit Eagles soar, not fly.

Copyright (c) 1996, “Spirit Eagle”,Paul S Hickman, All Rights Reserved

There it's sitting, tucked between others unlike it.

Strolling, about the colorful decorum,
She briskly greets me, with a warming smile.

Clothed in simply exotic jeans, with leather boots,
The top fringes, flapping with her every step and turn.

As modern Jazz music plays, softly in the background.
People, walking briskly, down the clean stone surfaced
Street.

A fashion show, accentuating the plethora of boutiques
Encapsulating, the Expresso Bar.

Exotic cars creep along the narrow street,
Exhibiting their unique styles and models,
With their little ones riding quietly with,
Piercing eyes.

As a local cat, fondly plays with the small leaf.
Being gently, moved by the wind's breath.

As the sun sets quietly, we move to another spot,
To complete the day at the Expresso Bar.
Quietly, sitting in the mist of the dawn of the eve.

© The Expresso Bar, 2013, Paul S Hickman, All Right Reserved

Sitting, in this place, lonely, mind,
Searching for reasons. The years, passing
As swiftly as they came.

With thoughts, in the corners of the
Mind. Searching the experiences the
Answer—unknown.

Cast off, into the reality of others.
Traveling, through the halls of
Academia. Facing, minds of the world.

The disruptions, unsolicited, unwanted
Annoying to self. Precious moments passing
Valuable to lose.

Though unknown to self, unknown to others.
The envy, the jealousy, the dreams to
Leave the land of reality.

Into a distant world, far beyond the
Thoughts of others. To realize, they
Have a world of their own.

Copyright (c) 1996, Paul S Hickman, All Rights Reserved

A walk in the park, listening to the birds and bees.
Visiting with other strollers, a smile and a hello.

Challenging my eyes with a glistening glow.
My, my is this going to be my life style to enjoy,
And cherish for the rest of my days?

If so, then those who must slave for others,
While I enjoy the freedom so greatly earned.

Copyright (c) 2004 “ A Walk in the Park”, Paul S Hickman, All Rights Reserved

      Your blood flows in our veins. As we are passing through
                          And you are coming through.

     After over 400 years “The Post-African Enslavement and the
    African Diaspora Era” in America and the world. Many cultures
  reap the creative fruits of the African forefathers and present day
                       Africans without profound gratitude.

     We are the inheritors of the intelligentsia of the Ancient Benin
     Africans and all the Ancient African Cultures. We have shared
                      These intelligent gifts with the world.

         Our music-science-mathematics-eloquent logos-leadership
-statesmanship-literature-sculptures and sports are a testament of our
            Determination to exploit these gifts to their fullest.

    No matter the breath or frequency of obstacles placed before us.
      For Africans, it is either- over, under, or through them towards
Fulfilling the Footprints left by our Ancient African Ancestral Cultures.

      Though at times clouds may cast a shadow on our endeavors
        We Africans are still here- plowing the rows towards our
        destiny to build our humanity and share with the world.

(C)2021 “Your Blood” by Paul S Hickman -All Rights Reserved

Inauguration Poem

You thought it would be done. But you didn't know
That it would be so. By the Grace of God -you start
 A new journey with His Angels as your Guardians.

   There you sit far away from us. Yet so close.
    As you feel in your heart the fire that burns
                  In all of God's Chosen.

        Not to worry about that what follows.
     His Lead and you emerge as fresh as the
Clear running stream. As strong as the Native Bison.
   As true as the arrow. And as gentle as the cello-
                  Piano-flute and the violin.

There you have it. Mr. President of the United States.
         Long life-sail with the Winds of change.
      And your walks moves towards the destiny
   To accomplish the trials and tribulations of life.

  As you walk over the hill-you are a young person's
President. Our time has passed As you plow the road
                      For the years to come.

     Time crosses your footsteps in the sand . As a
             Gentle breeze erases the previous
                   Path followed by so many.

       Your hand with open face points to the sky
      And the heavens sing and the thunder roars.

                         Now you start....

(C)2021-”UNFINISHED” by Paul S Hickman -All Rights Reserved

Seein‘ folks storm through the capitol halls
Wonderin’ if they got any sense at all
Carryin’ signs of indignant hate
Is this democracy’s future fate?
Online malignity is a booming industry
Spreadin’ false news while lyin’ miserably
Police gettin’ knocked down and beat
Puttin’ their feet up on Pelosi’s seat!
Weapons carried to the front door
But what is really at this here core?
What is the sudden hidden fear?
To lose all we hold so dear?
Is it Martin’s dream that scares us so?
Selfish citizens who want more?
Inauguration is on its way
Biden working hard to save the day
The nation has never been so split
I’m troubled too I must admit
So democracy I ask of you
What the hell are we gonna do?

Copyright@ All rights reserved
Camille Elaine Thomas
January 18, 2021