My older cousin flew in for the funeral. We play it cordial but I don’t speak that language. I try. I might do a better job if they taught it in school but I doubt they will in the next trillion years. I have another cousin, the same age as me, he speaks that language fluently. I listened to the conversation chiming in when necessary and from their conversation I wrote this poem. Actually I won’t take credit for it. It wrote it self. True facts, because I never talk like this. Either way I liked it enough to share.
They don’t weep no more.
Say tears won’t come like they use too.
Cause a man can’t cry
When another man die
And they don’t weep no more.
They don’t juice and gin
Rainfall to the ground no more.
Times got hard
Sips to precious
Lips need to be numb
Cause they don’t weep no more.
Just smoke clouds and niggas spit.
But they don’t weep no more.
They don’t love they daddies
Cause he left before age 3
So they don’t miss him no more
Never seen they daddies cry
They don’t know real men shed tears
Like grief and regrets.
Wish they could weep.
Let go some of they angry hearts.
Let go self-hatred
Fear of greatness.
But they don’t weep no more.
Leave it for they
Mama’s
Sister’s
Auntie’s
They weep for them
Grow them
Strong
And black
Dream them necessary
Still they don’t weep no more.
Don’t know no direction
Cept down.
Can’t walk tall
If they can’t cry in the dark.
And who gon’ teach them.
A real man cry
And be angry
Learn to ask why.
Till these brown boys do
They won’t weep.
Then they can’t grow.
Until they say No More.
baking powder and inspiration,
KD
