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Apr 20, 2004 "An Urban Perpective" In todays society, yesterday reminds us of tomorrow and a second pass midnight dawns another day of exhaling. This is a society where the value of life bares "No Meaning," on the heads of our black children. Their blood spilled upon the paved streets, on top of PERDITIONS ceiling. A fragile label has been placed on the box of our black youth. Not by outside influences or agitators, but by our own hands with finger tips of genocide. We, as a people of color seem to break like glass, when its time to stay strong. These are predatorial grounds, we walk on as a people of color. "But who are the predators?" "Are the predators invisible to out peripheral vision?" There must be a time for change. A change from the shackles of degradation, self- hatred, weak spirits, jealousy, and self-pity. Its time to come in from off the cold streets of misconception. Its time to rise up from the myth of hustling and social evil, claiming wealth and respect in these deeds. Its time to use the mind which was given to us, as a tool against oppression and suppression against our race. Falling rocks come from a broken Heaven. That feels mistreated and torn because of what black folks have become. As I peer out upon the past, present, and future of us as a people. I see the shadows of empty gaps, that could be engulfed by our own determination. Education is a factor not divisible by one, that seems to be allusive to our black youth and adults with a "no future syndrome." Only living for today's glory which last only so long. Not for tomorrow, which life evolves around. Two thousand and four and Pharaoh's Armies has surrounds us, but in a harsh wind blown from across the Red Sea of despair. Others and I can still hear, "Let my people go," emanating from the souls of our people of color. Shall we sink or swim in todays society? Shall we walk or crawl to our future? Shall we stumble or stand tall receiving respect from our children. "What will it be?" Because life waits for no one and it bares strange fruits. Black men...black fathers...black dads, our immortality comes from our children. "Shall we feed them?" "Shall they grow?" ------------ About the author: Deon C. Sanders, a father of six, is on his way to writing numerous bestselling horror novels, inspiring poems, and feature film screenplays. However, his passion is horror writing. His first horror novel “Miss Mary Weather: A Southern Nightmare” has been a success in the minds of horror readers and has been well received in Chicago and in other major city bookstores. Email: dsanders4119@yahoo.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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