Category Archives: Poetry

Airbrushed Heroes (Tribute to Muhammad Ali and Nelson Mandela)

They wanna…. airbrush our heroes

Lighten up their dark circumstances

White wash their political stances

Cut and paste on false liberal values

And blot out every one of their journals on how to

Make a revolution so the world advances .


They wanna…. liposuction

All “belly of the beast” talk

Bleach the bloody road on the long walk

To freedom and,

Hide the victims so we never see them

And lift leaders so high we never think we can be ‘em


They wanna…. “applause track” our Malcolms

And as they fake clap, they cover up the Black with talcum

They wanna pacify Mandela

they want you to think he was just some peaceful fellow

BUT if you take his freedom, take his land,

Terrorize his people…time’s passed for shaking hands


They wanna… screen print our heroines

Put Harriet Tubman on a 20

The mother of slave revolts on U.S. money,

But check the subliminal math and

See she only gets half and

is only validated once the bill is flipped to see

the white man Jackson


They wanna apple pie Ali,

detach him from his Blackness and ideas on why we

should never fight their wars or join their Army

They wanna… just make him a sports star

Not the hero the GOVERNMENT would have but behind bars

for joining with people of the world in solidarity

while fearlessly identifying our common enemy

and eloquently describing our still bleeding scars


They wanna…. move on to the next trend

Cut off rebel curiosity before it begins

They wanna…. airbrush our heroes


Flirtation (Haiku)

Flirtation; magic.

Tiny flashes race through us

as eyes meet… and dance

Guardians (Haiku)

Old brown eyes peer out

from porches throughout the hood,

silently guarding.

Pain in Solitude. Memories from an underground mine (haiku)

“Goddddd-damnit that hurt!”

My muffled moan finds no ears.

For I am alone.


Mud (haiku)


Cool mud relaxes

But first you must be willing

to have muddy toes.

by: Brian Taylor

Thinking About My Great Grandmother (haiku)

My life, mostly great.

So why is my heart heavy?

Great Granny ain’t here.

In the loving memory of Edith Armstrong.
One of the greatest women I have ever known.

Limitations of “the vote”

By: Brian Taylor

Go in the box. Vote in a box. Choices in a box.

Boxed in and locked. Future been blocked.

Lines have been chalked, bullshit been talked.

Promises been balked, Katrina been stopped.

FEMA done been stopped, aid done been stopped.

Homes are still lost. Lives are still rocked.

Cops, they still pop; then they still walk.

Even when its caught, on the internet.

How sick can it get? You aint seen shit yet.

Wait til the stocks drop….

In the summer heat muthafuckers dying.

While the wealthy eat, muthafuckers dying .

In the winter cold, muthafuckers dying.

While debt is sold, muthafuckers dying.

In heavy rains, muthafuckers dying.

While they destroy grain, muthafuckers dying.

From curable diseases, muthafuckers dying.

While they do what they pleases, muthafuckers dying.

We don’t matter, Free don’t matter to top hatters

on top of ladders. Our clothes tattered, our people scattered,

our spirits battered, our brains splattered, our dreams shattered,

our team shattered, all this data’s, got me madder.

Wish our movement was fatter than Kongs bladder.

We gotta get pissed, demand and insist.

Read what we’ve missed. See what we’ve missed.

Raise a fist…and resist.

Drown our fears, with metaphorical spears

The place is where? Here! The time is when?

The time has been…

now for some time,

time for some rhyme, to break the mold,

break the hold

the system has

on our minds,

and break it cold

and shake the old decripid form

and shake away its social norms.

Cause ignorance, they profess to be bliss,

but so much less than freedom is.

Wage raise fights, Wage slave plights,

Black rights battles, immigration fights,

Same page fights, whole nation rattles…

Vote for Bernie Sanders? vote for Hillary?

Man you killing me with that nonsense

Where’s our memory? Are you kidding me

Do their bidding B? They ain’t feeling me

Though they cleverly serenade us verbally

And fraudulently claim their deep concern for me

Ain’t NO power like a million feet

on the concrete,

We don’t need a seat

at your table, we taken the street

We taken the sheets off heads and burnin em

And when the time comes, we taken the heat

Cause we tired of taken crumbs while small sums get meat

Our slums replete with abject poverty

We need sovereignty, not electoral novelty

This is from depths of my pectoral cavity

Weighed down by the gravity of ancestral captivity

Walkin head high with built in humility

All I ask is that we use our ability

To change thangs for real, and dispense with futilities

Like capitalist parties and social dem similies

They dress up like sheep, but they wolf-ass enemies