Someone once said to me, “your not black, Alex, your white.”
I immediately became offended and he didn’t understand why
he thought he had paid me a compliment.
I was amazed.
One second we were having a conversation about Obama. The next I’m being told that neither of us was black.
That’s when I began to think.
What does it mean to be black?
How is it that Oprah is not black while people who choose to not get jobs are
Why is that if you choose to be educated you’re white
Why is that if you choose to not have a baby’s mama or be one; you’re white
It is as if the stereotype that was created to describe me couldn’t hold me so
I had to be removed and because my characteristics are so “civilized” I can be honored with and upgrade to the white class
Why can’t I be a black women in America working her ass off to support herself?
Why do I have to be an ignorant thug to be black?
What does it mean to be black.
How am I black on some days and not others?
If I bumping into the KKK. They’re not going to ask me to recite the preamble.
They’re just going to hang me.
Why is it that I can judged by my skin color and receive two different verdicts.
Why is black a complement and an insult?
Why is that over a hundred years ago
When blacks were not allowed to be educated.
Our ancestors risked being beaten to death to learn to read.
Why did they fight so hard for education and freedom?
For people to now look at having those things as not being black
I am convinced that with these standards Martin Luther King Jr. wasn’t black
After all, he was a college graduate. He led a movement that was felt around the world
Despite the fact that all the characteristics I just named are what he fought for
What does it mean to be black?
Does the meaning change with the century?
With the mood?
Will it mean prude and egotistical tomorrow?
What does it mean?
Why did so many people fight and die for me to be confused.
What does it mean!
Someone tell me.
I am on bended knees. Screaming up to the sky’s
Where is my answer?
Or do you not know either?
Are you just as confused as I am?
Do you too, not understand this paradox of being black?
Are you as lost as I am? As confused? As angry?
Are people placing you into a mold that does not describe you?
Do you know what it means to be black?
I know what it needs to mean
It needs to mean bravely, persevering through all the tribulations.
It needs to mean community, faith, hope and peace
It needs to mean change, equality, and respect
It needs to mean you and me
It needs to mean us

By: Alexandra Smith

              Pitter-patter squirm -roll -squirm.
   Small in size as you may be. Be mindful of your
intelligentsia capacity. Our footprints are in the sands
    of life for you to step in and keep going into the
             realms left by us by our kingdoms.

Kingdoms erased by academicians of shallow depths.
 Unable to fathom all that which was created for us
 and now you. Some think too soon -you are given
              that which is your inheritance.

     I am looking out for you. So you can spread
     Your wings and fly to the highest mountain.

  Into the forceful winds and the raging seas. On
   our backs you can sit without tiring us. As we
    cuddle you with our God Given gentle arms.
         As you smile gleefully into our eyes.

    There we see into your soul- invisible to us.
          But it is there. Be kind to us as we
     Wither away into the eternal resting place.

(C)2021 “Pitter-Patter”-Paul S Hickman-All Rights Reserved

Little did I know, with my heart
dancing like the glow off the
silvery moon.

My mind in flight, racing with the
raging winds.

Strange rushings through my veins
like the ocean's tide against the
sands.

As my feelings and compasion, kiss
the stars beyond the universe.

This is love, a love for an eternity.
A love beyond all loves - a love
forever.

And I can say I love you. I love you
my sweet valentine.

(C)1996 “My Sweet” -Paul S Hickman-All Rights Reserved

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