THE LOWLY NEGRO
James Smith
“Life is about the journey. Weather the lows, as you weather the highs. You are the sum of your experiences.” – James Smith
“The most dangerous creation of any society is the man who has nothing to lose.” – James Baldwin
WITHERING AWAY TO NOTHINGNESS
How many men cut down by expectation
Residue of ambition, a barrage of self-doubt
Resistance surrenders unresponsive for the betterment of transparent clarity
What has man accomplished and who has benefited
In his last breath what would the narcissistic dreamer say; I wish I made better choices, I wish I had another chance
What wishes does this foolhardy man regurgitate
Station as prey: poor, ignorant, young, weak
Existing check to check one sickness away from defeat
Fragmented version of self, withering away to nothingness
THE RUNNER
Becoming familiar with denial, trepidation increases the swell
Running on empty at the height of the season
AUDACITY OF YOUTH
Audacity of youth induced to ruins
Disillusionment circumvents false positives
Vile malignant narcissist in turmoil
FOG OF WAR
Surrender concedes
Rhetoric transparent
Lies resonate truths
Victims await you
Death collects his due
GOD EATS DOG
God’s alter ego is the Devil
In God’s likeness, God and Man equal parts good and evil
L(I)KE
Do I like YOU
At first glimpse reality is escapism
Stylized theatre on IG
Transient stages appear, re-appear and disappear
What remains is the real YOU
Characterized narcissistic sociopath
Influencers and celebrities mirroring vanity
Peripheral: entitled, apathetic, sensitive, selfish
At your moment of dissension who will favor YOU
Descending fame and infamy: a younger, hipper, slimmer, prettier YOU
Your last words: If only I stood for something greater than myself
If only I
There is no I in US and YOU never cared about US
YOU only cared about YOU and I was the solitary
I in L(I)KE
I’ll soon forget YOU with one flick of my thumb
Wasted life squandered with meaningless superficial posts
L(I)FE lived without passion, conviction and purpose
Do I like YOU
TWO BEASTS
Perched between two beasts as if we’re old acquaintances
Never any faces familiar in here
Can’t stop thinking, I’m trapped
THE BAR IS CLOSING
Last dance, the bar is closing
Water's up to her neck, how much longer can she hold on
Afraid to fall asleep, she doesn't know where she'll wake
Lived a simple life, listening to Satchmo, sipping on air
Falling, drifting under lucid spell
She can't go any further; her will to survive diminishing
One day she'll forgive, wishing it could go back to the way it was
OLD MAN
Old man told me today, getting old is the hardest deed he ever had to do
THE HARD TRUTHS
Conditioned by Religion, Politicians, and Madison Avenue
Disillusioned, old, and forgotten envying the arrogance of youth
Idealists instinctively reach for stars falling short of the mark
Savage and barbarous minus the sum of humanity
Importance of survival a deliberate farce
Human embodiment and residual of shame
THE RABBIT & THE DOWNWARD SPIRAL
The struggle ‘to be’ is the driving force behind his existence. To aim for the highest attainable star in the universe and at any cost secure the position. His life filled with sadness of truth that exhibits before him in all its fashion. And when he looks back 30 years down the line in all honesty, what will he see? An older rapidly aging version of himself on his birthday that seems to arrive 4 times a year. In his veins the evidence of a life polluted with the strains of decadence and self- medication. Decrepit, neglected and invisible, his reward as he closes his eyes to reminisce about past distinction in a kinder forgiving light. Inflicted with aches and pains pulsating through arteries and veins to the end roads of this man’s life. Who is this demon lurking beneath the realms of senses? Persuading whims and desires to sacrifice all that is good and real for vanity and superficiality.
Or is it? Is he, his own enemy? Could he be the saboteur of his demise? Failure his destiny, his fate, his fault. We are not one of you and you are not one of us. The man woke, realized he was on the wrong road. Worked hard to make all the right connections and friends. How did he not see the signs? Someone or something must be to blame. Perhaps he went back to sleep after he shut off the alarm.
“The Negro has been here in America since 1619...He is not going anywhere else; this country is his home. He wants to do his part to help make this city, state, and nation a better place for everyone regardless of color and race.” – Medgar Evers
THE LOWLY NEGRO
Beware the bearer who provokes envy
Words become numbers, volumes muted
Consumerism his fetish: the prey, my brethren, the lowly Negro
Eyes toward the ground
Devil intuitively watches
Bearer who sets the trap
Malicious and mischievous coward
Convinced the World he means no harm
DIXIELAND
Dixieland, I despise you
In exile, trapped in your polluted womb
Surrounded by insolent rednecks, dull-witted and sadistic by nature
Counting the days until I AM FREE
NIGGERPHOBIA
Am I a Nigger
What is the Nigger’s purpose
Fondling master’s genitals for small change
Vicious cycles that keep the Nigger and I AM segregated
Living in a constant state of Niggerphobia
PORTRAIT OF THE POET AS A BLACK MAN
I’ve been called black, colored, spook, jimmy, coon, eight ball,
jigaboo, jungle bunny, porch money, sambo, shine, tar baby, negro,
spade, darkie, ape, and nigger
NIGGER
A man called me a Nigger who couldn’t pronounce my African name
Perhaps it was my unflinching gaze, envisioning my ancestors in chains
Summoning crimes against humanity, rape of African pubescent apparent in my hue
Engulfed in constant denial and condescending irreverence for greed and contempt
I am cattle in his portfolio, stolen and sold into slavery by African, European, and American
Stripped naked of native tongue, culture, family and homeland
When I am of no further use as a mule of capitalism, they deny me an education and call me ignorant, they deny me work and call me lazy
They inflict disease, arrest and imprison black youths for fear of a black planet
They call me boy, rapist, liar, murderer, thief, to conceal their true nature
Good for nothing, worthless, dull- witted, dimwitted niggers go back to Africa
To survive the African holocaust we seek shelter in your shadows to elude you
Cowardly, ignorant and docile servants continue to work in the fields, as you continue to rape the world, sip Mint Juleps and dine on hors d’oeuvres
“I’ve never understood why the end of a relationship – especially one involving children – has to immediately signal a descent into hatred and toxicity.”
– John Niven
SURVIVAL
Role of consummate victim is her found philosophy
Psychosis the prognosis of post-traumatic stress disorder
Unwilling actor in the character study of a woman in rage
FALLEN FRUIT
Withering
No one’s fault but her own
Damaged
Wayward journey into my strident company
CHOKING ON HER SLIT
Awoke, choking on her slit
Knowing I have to settle and submit
ANATOMY
Condescending eyes, viral tongue
Inherent fear, passive and deceptive nature
Anatomy burns like a diseased whore
INNOCENCE WAS LOST
At thirteen, innocence was lost
Daddy's princess mirrors grown up
Mother turned tricks for rent
At thirteen, innocence was lost
Violation her weekly allowance
To forget she's only thirteen
All she ever wanted was love
Instead she contracts a disease
At thirteen, innocence was lost
Guilt makes her repeat the sin
To forget she's only thirteen
Tormented and humiliated by incest
At thirteen, innocence was lost
ROT THAT TORMENTS
Unknowing child’s pleas
Deafening words tear my fabric
In silence not to offend
Mother the rot that torments
At what cost betrayal of truth
A woman under the influence
Bottom feeding survivalist pretending to be harmless
Far removed from this wretched tribe that pollutes my seed
Sparing affliction of relation to parasites and their wickedness
SURVIVALIST MANEUVERING IN PLAIN SIGHT
Infested with the necessity of disappointment
Delusions lurk in the shadow of forgetfulness
Nurtured by contempt and misfortune
Masquerading as a TV mom until real life interrupts the regularly scheduled program
“Mistakes are part of being human. Appreciate your mistakes for what they are: precious life lessons that can only be learned the hard way. Unless it’s a fatal mistake, which, at least, others can learn from.” – Al Franken
LEGACY
I want to be the father, I never had
SCARS
Transactional repentance
Caducity skewed recollections
Photo albums distort claims
I remember everything
SENSITIVE SOUL OF MISFORTUNES
Devoid of trepidations I cannot control
Plowing mother earth with erratic impetus
In the name of God and Country, the Horrors
ADDICTION
Heightened perception of oneness
Dosage barely nurtures sickness
The more I pay, the more I’m granted
Money the bond that seals my fix
All roads inward lead to despair
Surviving each day at war with myself
ALLEGIANCE
I pledge allegiance to the flag
To murder your fathers and sons
Rape your mothers and daughters
Steal your land and resources
Spread disease, famine and disorder
With disdain and injustice for all
I’VE BEEN DYING FOR 43 YEARS, 17 HOURS AND 29 MINUTES
Survival’s weary of my suicidal tendencies
Dying for 43 years, 17 hours and 29 minutes
Company of evil men manipulating the will of good men
Uncontrollable savages all knowing of sacrificial lambs
Frequent stream of arrivals and departures protruding like a fish out of water
THE GREATER NOT THE LESSER
Descendant of slaves rooted in detestation and exoneration
Piety of triviality belittles true nature
Engulfed winds of battle, the greater, not the lesser
Accomplices in the throw of self-destruction
Indoctrinated philosophy of survival of the fittest
Rebirth of a nation divided now empathetic
Men overflowing with love, not beasts impregnated with rage
DEAR GOD
I have given the Devil the pieces that complete me
Self-medicating inner turmoil with substance abuse
Invisible, running in circles tracking my own shit
Solitary, regardless of sharing it with you
No desire to love and the only touch I need is my own I am the illegitimate Son of God and Man
Trapped in the Devil’s womb waiting to inhale
Curtain falls on my nightly charade
No one will care that I am no longer
Lecherous and diabolical actor receiving
praise for staying in character
As THEY pretend to keep the sun out of their eyes
UNDER THE GUISE OF DECEIT
Warred with the Devil
Lifeless, left for dead
Patient, resolute, steadfast
Demon revealed true intent
Under the guise of deceit
“An illusion of rehearsed lines, walking with our eyes closed, hoping for the best.” – James Smith
The LOWLY NEGRO
A Film By Jameson Stokes