RENEE’ DRUMMOND-BROWN

RENEE’ DRUMMOND-BROWN

GONE FISHING? ‘WATCH’ WHAT YOU CATCH?????

I tell my woes

‘ONLY’

to the wind(s)

I trust

absolutely

‘NO~ONE’

‘cept’

‘ONLY’

in Him

tried by six

tested

by ‘sum’

proven

by Him

‘ov’r’ an’ ‘ov’r’

what

part of this

…..

don’t

you get?

Again.

Hurts

my middle

name

fighting back

‘IZ’

‘MY’

game

asking

no questions

‘kickin’

behinds

an’

‘takin’

no names;

I am

in it

to

win it;

YEAH,

what

don’t

you get

‘WINNINGS’

definitely

my authentic game!

Yes!!

And

I

don’t

play

fair;

you don’t say?

Yeah,

winning

‘IZ’

my claim

to

‘my’

legitimate

‘kindda’

fame!

I’ve fried

fish

waaaaaaay bigger

than you

cat, trout, crawfish

WHITING

and

‘ev’N’

‘dat’

‘BLACK’ ‘BASS’

too!

I’m the real

deal

‘AIN’T’ no joke

ask “them”?

I’ll take you there (staple ‘sangers’)

down that

lonely lonesome

blackballed road

‘fo’ broke!

I know

‘WHEN’ to

hold ‘em’

fold ‘em’

‘cept’,

I do not

run;

‘ev’n’

own

a pink

revolver

naw

‘jus’ ‘kiddin’

I ain’t got

no gun$

Invade

my space

I do not play

on bended

knees

‘fo’ you

yeah you

I’ve already

prayed

yeah,

I’ve won

you lost

again

‘JUS’

GET

‘OUTTA’

MY WAY!

‘Jus’

shut up

He gets

both

you an’ my

last say.

Dedicated to: Busy ‘BODIES’ can my bones live?

A RocDeeRay Poem

No part of this poem may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without written permission from the author. All Rights Reserved@ September 3, 2017.

WHO LET THE ‘DAWGZ’ OUT?

WANTED ‘DEAD’.

NOT

ALIVE!!!

EXTRA EXTRA

READ ALL ABOUT IT

RUNAWAY SLAVE

ON THE LOOSE

THERE’S

NO DOUBT

ABOUT IT.

NO WORRIES

THOUGH.

THE GOOD OL’ ‘BOYZ’

ARE SURE

‘GONNA’

CATCH IT

WITH

HAY & ALLEN’S LIVE STOCK

OF NEGRO ‘DAWGZ’;

WHOSE UNQUESTIONABLY

‘GONNA’

CATCH ‘EM’ ALL!

And them good ol’ ‘boyz’’

said

“Get them ‘dawgs’

‘ov’r’ here.

I can surely smell

that Negro’s

fear”.

And the slave said

“Lord

if

they catch me

on

this day;

I ‘jus’

‘wanna’

be dead.

Cause

I can’t

go back;

won’t

go back.

NO!

Not ‘EVER’ again

enslaved.

No,

not there”!

And them good ol’ ‘boyz’

said

“Well,

would you look here,

at his clothes,

“on

the ground

face down”,

and

our ‘dawgz’

KNOW

that

‘Negro’ scent

anywhere”!!!

And the slave

said

“Lawd, Lawd, Lawd

I ‘needs’ me

‘sum’

waters;

to bathe

my ‘heads’.

I ‘needs’

to wade

like

no other

from

the

Leviticus curse

that

YOU LAWD

sent me,

my sons,

brothers

and

haughty daughters”.

And them good ol’ ‘boyz’ said

“The ‘dawgz’ scent

‘iz’

‘gettin’ cold.

That ‘Negro’

‘dun’ found

him

‘sum’ water

from ‘sumwhere’;

so

‘um’ told.

No worries though,

at $3.‘d00llas’

a head

‘we’ze’

‘gonna’ find ‘em’,

catch ‘em’

skin ‘em’

and

kill ‘em’

DEAD.

If it takes

all night

he ‘gotta’

surface somehow

‘sumwhere’!

And the slave sang

“Wade in the water,

‘waaade’

in the water;

I’m

the ‘chile’

that

‘MoZez’ ‘brang’

out of

Egypt land.

‘Iz’

got to

wade

‘jus’

a lil’

‘whiles’

longer”.

And them good ol’ ‘boyz’ sang

“Eeny meeny miny moe

catch a

‘Negro’

by its toe

if they

‘hollas’

‘don’t’

let ‘em’

go

Eeny meeny

miny moe.

‘Cuz’

ain’t no sunshine

‘why’s’ ‘youz’ gone;

the

SNOW PATROLS

got its

hounds

on ground.

‘We’ze’ ‘fennin’

to castrate

an’

send you

heavenly

bound.

Ain’t no sunshine

while ‘you’z’

gone”.

And the slave pressed on.

But,

did I mention

he’s

only

10 yrs. ol’?

A boy.

Far less than

a man

existing life

minus

experiencing

the ‘feelins’

of added joy

at hand.

And them good ol’ ‘boyz’ said

“Well

‘lookie’ ‘lookie’

what ‘we’ze’

got here;

a

scared Negro

all

draped in anguish

and

‘sum’ fear.

‘We’ze’ ‘gonna’

 kill ‘em’,

right now;

right here.

Tried.

Tested.

An’

proven

by our ‘MOB’

who surely

ain’t scared”.

And the slave ‘BOY’ said

“Lawd,

‘imma’ cast

‘ALL’

fears

‘onna’

God heard,

not seen

but

‘sumhow’

I know that I know;

You

do care.

Father,

forgive them

for they

know not

what

they do.

‘Iz’ ready

to be

a man now

an’ hang

from

a tree,

‘ev’n’

‘fo’ You.

The Father knows

all

oxygen

was

cut off

as he

‘swang’.

10 yrs. ol’

but

considered

a man.

Eyes bulging

from

his head

sweat pouring

from

his glands.

Breath

slipping fast.

Numbness

in both hands;

mob ‘yellin’

“swing low

sweet chariot

no-ones

‘fennin’

to carry you home”.

Boy’s

minds’

the last to leave

as he

FORCED

to

~SWING~

and become

a man

from

a

 poplar tree.

BUT~~~~

THAT’S

NOT HOW

THE STORY ENDS.

‘JUST’

AS ‘SURE’

AS I

‘ROSE’ AGAIN.

I AIN’T

FORGOT

WHAT

THEY DID.

Signed~~~~

THE FATHER,

WITH

THAT BOYS TEARS.

Dedicated to:

‘Y‘our’

BLACK LIFE MATTERED ENOUGH FOR ME TO PEN!

A B.A.D. poem

IN LIGHT OF BLACK HISTORY MONTH 2017; LEST WE FORGET.

No part of this poem may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without written permission from the author. Published with AuthorHouse Publications. All Rights Reserved@ February 4, 2017.

HIM.

The day

we met;

I saw us

old.

Somehow,

I knew

he

was the one.

I knew

I’d have

both

his daughter’s.

AND

his only

son.

I knew

when meeting

you;

we’d both

grow young.

Dedicated to: Number uno.

A RocDeeRay Poem

No part of this poem may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without written permission from the author. All Rights Reserved. AuthorHouse Publishing Company. Copyrighted material@ September 2, 2017.

RENEE’ DRUMMOND-BROWN