King of All Kings

By Avis Parks 

Poetry, Heard/Alexandria Detention Center writing contest, August 2021

 

You say that you are a king,

that wants to just be able to enjoy your kingdom,

you say you want a special lady to become your wife to be your queen,

the queen of your kingdom

your queen that will have your children,

your princes and princess.

You want for them to be able to enjoy life in the canyon.

You want to be a king that sits on the mountain

as your able to wanten

as the water flows down the river.

Like a fountain as your queen is able to watch the flowers bloom

while the sweet scent of her perfume

blows across your nose

as the wind blows down in that directions

of where the children are playing.

The king & thy queen,

enjoying the view of your children as they are growing.

Is there anything else more so she your queen may ask you,

on such a wonderful, beautiful day

as the evening starts to fall and the sun starts to set.

Do you king she you queen ask believe

that thiers some people that poor

while you sit here complaining that you just want a little bit more.

What more is it you need when you’re the king.

Mr. King, did you even stop to realize that this was only your dream

and not your queen’s dream?

You dream, Mr. King, of making that your only made her your queen, Ms. Queen!!!

Apart of you team also to have her to redeem to her Ms. Queen

((Freedom))

Just being able to become someone’s queen

Now you say your and king.

So stop to start.

In really be the king.

Just so she can be able to really wear her ring.

So what do you say?

Mr. King let us hear you’re the lion’s raws

We also want to hear yours

so what more say let us hear yours

Mr. King, you raws!!

The Most Beautiful Battle

S. Amir Farrakhan 

Third place, poetry, Heard/Alexandria Detention Center writing contest, August 2021

 

My vision inferior,

in comprehension of your sacred Black exterior,

that beautiful pretty,

the likes of such I’ve never seen,

true invigorating phenomenon –

of the spectacular Ebony Queen.

Without a hint of conceit,

just flawless configuration from your head to your pretty little feet,

enshrouded in luscious regal brown epidermal –

making you scrumptious & unique, in harmony like a well composed song,

within your melody is where I know I belong,

your captivating presence can right any wrong.

Utmost enthralled that you exist,

your chocolate sexy can’t resist.

I live to need Blackwomanness,

those lips, hands and hips to kiss,

compel my heart to insist

that I emphatically persist,

to make you an integral part of it,

to pull you in as close as close can get,

knowing that you are a perfect fit

and until you’re mine I refuse to quit,

you’ve got my mind, body and soul lit –

Queen, Queen, you’re that damned exquisite

Beautiful pretty you’re pretty beautiful

and my vision sees nothing less,

true embodiment of heaven,

Black masculinity you truly bless.

We began as light energy,

essential to my free,

we developed and next we flee,

into the macroscopic stratosphere

of an atmospheric sea,

where can be found the beautifulest Black galaxy –

a place where we first met,

so never forget –

that we are the original,

our love for one another innately provisional.

So enunciates the Creator,

the Alpha regulator,

the All in All known as Allah, Maker,

Owner of that beautiful Black Star,

authentic Black God worshipped in the Motherland,

before our enslavement by the “other man”,

mankind kind of man,

biblical rider on the pale horse called Death,

who worked the hell out of us til we had nothing left,

responsible for over 100 million of us taking our final breath,

the most atrocious of slave histories

and the world’s greatest theft.

You were compelled to take a stand,

you were not only the woman,

you were also the man,

tending to my mental/physical wounds,

for more than 400 blood moons,

yet with all that on your plate,

I could feel your love proliferate

and that beautiful pretty that you still maintain,

throughout this haunted odyssey of tears & pain.

And I’m grateful you stayed,

unbeknownst to you I’ve begged,

prayed,

thanking Allah for this Black woman He made,

dauntless and beautiful in every hue of shade,

in my soul there’s a perpetual parade,

because I’m still here due to the price you’ve paid!

Love Letter

By Peter Le

Third place winner, nonfiction, Heard/Alexandria Detention Center writing contest, August 2021

Hey Babe. So I have been thinking recently. What is love? After r-evaluating everything, I am more than certain I do want to be with you no matter what. I have always loved you and that will never stop. You are my first love and best friend. Things like that wouldn’t change overnight.  So I will embrace my love for you and work through our problems and differences.

When I first got locked up, I didn’t want to hold you back. I wanted you to be free and happy, but you wanted to hold me down. That’s what love is, so I respected your decision to bear my pain wit me and loved you even more for it. We first thought that I would be home in a few years, but that all changed when you go locked up 2 months after me. It hurts me more than you will ever know. I wanted you snitch on me so they would let you go, but you refused. You don’t deserve any of this. You are innocent, but the Feds thought otherwise. The think you know everything because you are my wife. So they pressured you many times and made you cry. That made me cry too. You told me not to cry and be strong. I hated myself for hurting you.  Sometimes I still do. My mistakes haunt me. It is my fault that the Feds involved you. As our case developed, our relationship struggled. We started to question ourselves and our future. How strong was our commitment to each other? We still wanted to be together, however, and held on.

We wrote letters and passed each other notes whenever we could, but maybe that wasn’t enough.  Our lives were already drifting apart and I didn’t want to accept it. I couldn’t have. I’ve lost everything already, but you and my family. I could not afford to lose anything else. Eventually, I was indicted with more charges and you were sentenced to 3 ½ years. Our faith in each other started to break. Hope was bleak and only our past was concrete. You resented me and I accepted that. It is my fault for your incarceration. I failed to protect you when you trusted me. You were mad and did what you wanted. You stopped writing me and wrote other guys instead. You flirted and entertained them. Maybe you did it out of spite or maybe you enjoyed to. I was hurt and felt betrayed, but at the end of the day it was justifiable. I couldn’t resent you for that. I am the reason you are alone and suffering. Maybe you thought I didn’t love you anymore or maybe it was too much to love me. It didn’t seem likely anymore that I was coming home after a few years. You never ended things between us. You only said that you would write me when you can because it was getting complicated to send letters. Even if you were cheating on me, I couldn’t stop loving you. If it made you feel better, shouldn’t I find consolation in that? It was difficult and I was confused. After a few days of heartbreak, I forgave you and found my peace. Even though you never told me about the other guys, I don’t hold that against you. In our hearts, I know that we still love each other.

I am writing this because it is inevitable. I am sending it to you now because the sooner I address it, the better. I’ve waited and waited, but you never wrote me. But I knew I had to be the one to write you first. When you responded back and said you were doing well in prison, I was just happy and overwhelmed to get a letter from you. It’s been over a year since we’ve wrote each other, but not a day has gone by that you weren’t on my mind.

I was reading this book and it reminded me of what love was. It was a sign and I had to let you know how I feel. I love you and married you. You are the person I chose. Through thick and thin and for better or for worse. I signed up for this and will support you whether you are wrong or right. If I can’t handle you at your worst, then I don’t deserve you at your best. Because I love you, I respect your wishes. Whether you want to or not, I will always love you and wish you the best. That is just what love is. So yes, I really do love you.

Sincerely,

Your best friend

Dispised & Rejected

by S. Amir Farrakhan

Nonfiction, Heard/Alexandria Detention Center writing contest, August 2021

More than 38 of my 58 years have been survived in America’s notorious prison industrial complex, commencing from the time I was 12 years old a man. An only child, I was raised by an unwed strong take no sh_ _ type of woman, whom had a very heavy hand, that was employed all to often.

I actually hated my mother, more so because of her disciplinary enforcement. I did not get spankings, I got Kunta Kentaed (the main character of the movie Roots). However, although she beat me like I was a hebrew slave, she was an excellent provider. I’ve never known hunger, had my own room, new clothing & an abundance of games & toys, I even had my own T.V.

As tradition would have it, I’ve not known the face of my biological father. He was a soldier in “ol massa’s army,” whom wanted my mother to move to Chicago & she declined & so he went on his merry way, never sending me even a can of milk. I did however see a photo of him that my mom has.

But this behavior is a common idiosyncrasy that veils Black humanity in Amerikkka & affects all of the descendants of those sacred Souls that were compelled to this land of the free, in the belly of slave ships, like the Jesus of Lebeck among many that set sail through the middle passage.

It was a common practice of ol massa to abduct the infant from its mother & sell off the father to sire children on other plantations after impregnating all the other “heifers,” as he called the Blackwoman. And there is a word that I don’t recall, but it appellates a condition of the mind that’s brought on when an experience is so atrocious, it’s engrossed in & passed down one’s bloodline from generation to generation. I believe this has a direct bearing on the Blackmale in his ability to impregnate women & keep it moving as if the child is solely the responsibility of the mother.

However, Allah did place a very beautiful man in my mother’s life, who was with her before my birth & other than Allah, is the only Father I know & is still in my corner til this day & loves me hard. And I was raised right, he only spanked me once with a cloth belt & my mother made him do that. So why have I spent more than half my life in a prison cage? Guess what? It had nothing to do with my rearing.

The so-called educated amongst us, the “educated negros” taught in the schools & universities of our open enemies, teach us that our quality of life depends on the choices we make, not revealing that choice can be manipulated, because the mind can be manipulated & controled to a great extent if not utmost.

It’s not by chance that Black folk make up only 11% of these United States, yet better than 40% of its prison system. This implies that we, the original people of the earth, the builders of the great pyramid & the greatest civilizations & whom are renowned as the Master builders & mimicked in the masonic lodges by those who enslaved us, are prone to crime. And what’s sad is that many of our own kin take the position that we are. But remember that they are educated & trained by ol massa. It’s even worse when you find those that ol massa has made into himself. During antebullem, this breed of Blacks were referred to by their peers as “House Niggers” & they have no pride nor shame. In fact, they are examples of the manipulated & controlled mind & exist right now today.

A good example is in “corrections” or law enforcement. My grandmother was amongst those Blacks that marched, got beat with clubs & sprayed with water hoses & had flesh eating dogs sicced on them, as they protested for Blacks to be given jobs in law enforcement, to ensure that we would be protected, treated justly & fairly while in jails & prisons. However most of them hired could not have gotten that notice. But there are a very small few, whom are not under subjugation of the badge they proudly wear over their most precious organ, (the heart). Its image is a tyrant, (hermaphrodite) standing on a vanquished Black king. This is the concept, the foundation of this state & it’s fed to every employee in subtle increments, (Sic Semper Tyrannis) this is the aim & purpose of this state Virginia. Look up the word tyrant, & you’ll see what we are under (overt oppression) enforced by the now children of the slaves, “remarkabal!”

I grew up in near abject segregation, programed by white supremacy at every angle, in school the book they started us on was titled, The Little White House about a Caucasian family with a dog named Flip whom said, “Bow wow,” On T.V. the only serious character that looked like me was Bill Cosby who played a Black spy for ol massa. Black folk in this era were still trying to assert themselves, & in the hood there was not alot of positive influences. People for the most part were as Marvin Gay sang, “Trying to get over.”

I fell victim to the gangster shows on T.V. & whole heartedly embraced Al Capone. I wanted to be like him, thus I was fascinated with guns & crime of which is prevalent in poorer hoods & easily accessible, (which is all by design). So the only heros I had who looked like me where I grew up were the athletes & hoodlums & I had my choice made for me by circumstances & conditions which chose for me. The sure rout[e] was crime.

The conditions in & of any community can be & are manipulated. When institutions of employment, businesses, commerce, etc. are removed from a community, a chasm of depletion is created & what follows is poverty which changes the orientation of the mind, making it more susceptible to sugestion, especially subliminal, which is done through music & vision, esp. television “programing.” So when one is put in a sink or swim situation is there really a choice being offered, better yet, if I tell one that I’m going to kill you, pick which gun, a 357 or 44. Is that really a choice? And out of said conditions which imposed on my thinking, boredom sets in, then depression & I turned to older guys in my hood whom fed that chasm with criminal ideas & thus I began my “so-called gangster.”

As a result, reformatories & prisons have been a major part of my life, of which has taken a heavy toll on my mother’s & caused me to be absent in my own children’s lives, so there has been a snowball effect. But what it has done is brung my mother & me closer. Since 1994 she’s been the greatest mother & my very best friend.

However, it’s no secret that we, the Blackman, woman & child are an endangered species, we are not equal citizens in this country & white folk demonstrate this each second, we are still oppressed, exploited & abused. Understand that citizens do not need civil rights, even those of my kind whom have been employed in his systems of government, to him & his constituents in & of the ruling class in & of the higher echelon of society, are merely “things” to be used to help him advance & to maintain control of the common folk not on his team.

This is too Black to win this contest. It might anger ol massa!

APIDTA