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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Lynch 'Emdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Strator
    ASL Info:    22/M/US
    Elite Ratio:    4.09 - 160/142/67
    Words: 405
    Class/Type: Poetry/Serious
    Total Views: 936
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2511



    Description:
       This is not supposed to be racist in any form, this is showing the tribulations they went through, and how they over came it, with their faith.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsLynch 'Emdots
    -------------------------------------------


    As we wrestle with the powers of darkness now strangling our lives, give to our souls to endure as seeing the invisible, and to our right arms the strength of the martyred dead of our people. Have mercy on the poor, the weak, the innocent and defenseless, and deliver us from the body of the Black Death. In a land of light and beauty and love our women are prisoners of danger and fear. While the heathen walks his native heath unharmed and unafraid, in this fair Christian Southland, our sisters, wives, and daughters dare not stroll at twilight through the streets, or step beyond the highway at noon. The terror of the twilight deepens with the darkness, and the stoutest heart grows sick with fear for the red message the morning bringeth.

    ~William Faukner

    Everyone comes to the yard,
    Bringing with them a 100 years of fear,
    Not ever knowing when there time is up or if they have a sense of life that belongs to them.

    "Who knows what them crackers or going to do to us..."
    Showing a sense of pride in heritage,
    Not caring about consequences of sleeping with someone,
    "Help us dear Lord!" screams a slave.
    Will the god they so desperately seek come to help

    With the beatings and rapes,
    The comings and goings,
    How will our people prosper?
    Who will carry us from our hell.

    No one seeks out shame, torment, rage for things they didn't do.
    They seek acceptance, love, and hope for the things lost...
    Wondering Oh so much to be free.

    Going outside is almost impossible,
    Being black a curse,
    Being situated around crackers can be no fun,
    The rope coming to get them, to take their breath away.

    Dear Lord oh lord...my shepard.
    Help me out in this dire need for vengance, and mercy....
    The rope tightens, the light fades.
    The gates opening into an ever faithful life of love.

    Where art thou now that thee is dead?
    Dust thou not want mercy?
    For thee has been through tribulations....lost thy way, and I have brought thee back again.

    For you will never be lost as long as you are a fighter,
    No matter who is taking your life,
    They can't take your soul...

    So go ahead they say,
    Lynch 'Em,
    For they know where they are going,
    They are accepted...
    Up there.




    Submitted on 2006-11-09 11:37:38     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      I think you captured the moment well, i do agree that moving back and forth form the to thou takes from it a bit but i think you captured the anger and fear and the abillity to rise above with hope very well.

    as for dontgetemo, [censored] him, you werent writing down your beliefs. Writing is controvercy, thats what its about if it wasnt we would all be posting pretty little poems about love and sunshine and roses but my lovelife is [censored]ed and i prefer the night time and a roses is just a [censored] weed to me.....

    i think it could be tuned up a bit but i think you did a good job

    AL
    | Posted on 2006-12-08 00:00:00 | by Amanda Lynn | [ Reply to This ]
      I think that this, despite the disclaimer, is controversial but, inherently, there is nothing wrong in that. The somewhat archaic views of Faulkner might (might?) have had relevance when he wrote his diatribe but for today.....?

    On the poem, regardless of content: I think you must get into the use of a good spellchecker and then the irritating incorrect spellings would vanish; but only so long as you applied it with your own visual inspection; checkers can't differentiate, being nothing but a form of calculator not a sentient being.

    If we aim to be poets then we must surely regard our wonderful English (American or British) language with respect. Of course we may stretch it for poetic purposes but i would hope u would not get into using textspeak 4 example - ugly and careless and demeaning of us all.
    I think the switch you make between the "you" and "thou" lends little to the strength of the work. Thank you so much for the read.

    Donald
    | Posted on 2006-11-10 00:00:00 | by siradrian | [ Reply to This ]
      Hi Strator,

    This is certainly might bring up controversy but the fellow who wrote just below me missed your message, Billie Holiday's song,
    "Strange Fruit" is about the exact think you mention, because as they drove through the South on tour, the evidence of lynchings was there. It was during the thirties and forties, so it wasn't long ago.

    Strange fruit hangin' from the poplar trees

    Hate is scary- that is what I understand. And I'd never seen Faulkner's message but I'll bet for the most part Blacks were being blamed for what rich white boys did. Sorry, but daddy's money can you out of most any dilemma, now can't it?

    Poignant! But you reveal a strange terror and then try to take us out of that opinion that Faulkner has drawn. I dont think it works well, so I would let the poem stand as it does. I can see why your opinion was misunderstood.

    Nan
    | Posted on 2006-11-09 00:00:00 | by nansofast | [ Reply to This ]
      Racist
    | Posted on 2006-11-09 00:00:00 | by dontgetemo | [ Reply to This ]


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