The World Shall Know My Name

After being up painting (I’m a beginner but I’m loving it), I felt like writing. Naturally I had to pair it with what I created.

I just want the world to know my name like Basquiat or Kara Walker

Minus the graffiti and silhouettes

Stun the world with abstract visions until they think I’ve done my best

Then tell em I ain’t done yet

Putting my paint brush down for a pen

Creating message after message

Planting seeds to help my people win

Because you see,

One day on common ground we must all meet

It’s enough out here for everyone to eat

We not the crabs in the bucket

We’re the Kings and Queens

With the heart of the lion and lioness

Broken free from the chains

Destined for greatness

Like the ancestors that left writings on the walls

Our actions will do the same for those next in line

And after I’m gone and my many greats say my name

It’ll be followed by words such as this:

My many many Great-Grandmother was an artist. She created abstract visions that stunned the world like Basquiat and Kara Walker. Minus the graffiti and silhouettes of course. When she wasn’t painting she was writing. Some would describe her as woke and others would say passionate. A conversation with her was always full revolutionary topics and funny jokes, but at the end of the day she was for her people and the people are for her. So when I say her name, I say it pride. Be a use of her, I come from greatness and now the world knows her name.

My Library Will Never Burn Down

Someone once said that when an old person dies a library burns down.

So you mean to tell me that all that knowledge and wisdom will be reduced to ashes simply because their spirit has left it’s temporary housing?

The walks of my people will now be erased like the rain pouring down to wash away footsteps, is that what you are saying?

Well that is something I just cannot accept. 

My history will not be erased like what was tried to be done to the walls of the great pyramids. 

The pyramids my ancestors built and left messages for those to come that have now been smeared to tell an altered story. 

The story of my ancestors will live through me and the generations to come  because they will be taught to never stop telling the story’s. 

Through me they will know that their roots trace back to Benin, a country in West Africa that once was named the Dahomey Kingdom. 

Through me they will know that my grandmother hid her deaf brother in the trunk of a car and drove from Tennessee to Illinois to escape being lynched. 

Through me they will know that they have ties to the land between two rivers also known as Cairo, IL. Where race wars played a pivotal role in its downfall. 

Through me they will know that their mother and father were soldiers and didn’t hesitate to fight for their country even though many are not so understanding of who they are. 

And through me they will forever say the names Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Trayvon Martin, Sandra Bland, Freddie Gray, Philando Castile, Oscar Grant, Botham Jean, Atatiana Jefferson, Pamela Turner, Korryn Gaines, Emmett Till, George Stinney, and the countless others throughout history. 

For those names tell a story that will force the world to face a cold hearted reality that many just cannot accept, but will hear because it will never be silenced. Just like the tales from the old person that is no longer with us. 

So yeah, some may feel a library is burned down when an old person dies, but I say it’s built stronger. 

Every time the stories are told another book is added. And after all the shelves are full and there can be no more, more libraries will be built because my library will never burn down.