Blood runs in the streets
from the gun –
More blood runs in the streets
from him – he could not run:
The sound of gunshots
as another man dies.
burning the spot
where the ammunition caught.
More blood runs in the streets;
Life – a nightmare;
He died at her feet
right there –
watching his blood running in the streets.
Eyes blank, as death
comes – from the wound in his chest.
An atmosphere pregnant with screams
as more blood runs in the streets –
and will forever haunt her dreams.
Watching his life slowly receding;
Labour pains reminded her his child coming,
Uncertain which agony is more
She sat – in his blood
While his blood dries in the streets
His son is born –
The cycle repeats.
Years past – shhh! The sound
of bullets – fired by the son
whose father had died by the gun.
- Barbara McKenzie
I come out black from the root to the tip
I come out black
Dem seh maybe I tan too long
Inna the pot
For I come out black
Dem seh the metamorphosis
Of fi mi pigmentation from rare to black as pear
Shall hold me back
Cause I come out black
Dem seh come wipe of sum a dat
We ave di perfec ting fi gi yuh the European glow
Mek yuh well matte
Nadinola, Idole, Nepozone
An a likkle volume 40 fi mek di ting well shat
Di ting is I neva go docta yet fi the ailment of being black
An wen since is a problem fi mi wear me knats
You wouldn’t dare put me round a front fi smile and collec money
Yuh shub mi roun a back
But ere wah
Yuh can yabba kick back
Tun roun round fall dung
Kick up rumpus and skin over flat
Di fact remains I cum out Black!
- Dejonique Thomas