Boy, I Wonder… (Writing as Curiosity)

Photo taken from the WEB

 

I wonder how life would be if Martin hadn’t given his speech

in front of 200,000 plus and led the March on Washington.

I wonder how life would be if James didn’t make it cool to say

“I’m black and I’m proud!”

I wonder how life would be if Jackie didn’t step in and break

the color barrier in professional baseball.

I wonder how life would be if the invasion on Africa never happened.

I wonder how life would be if Africa were still what it used to be.

I wonder how life would be if my father hadn’t come to California.

I wonder what would happen if he stayed home.

I wonder how life would be if Thurgood hadn’t become

the first black Supreme Court Judge.

I wonder how life would be if Langston, Zora, Louis,

and the Duke hadn’t been born.

I wonder how life would be if Afeni Shakur hadn’t been pregnant in jail.

If Tupac hadn’t been born, hadn’t blessed the world

with his unique words and predictions of the future.

I wonder how life would be if my mother hadn’t left.

Would I be able to write this?

I wonder how life would be if the heroes of the past

didn’t sacrifice their blood, sweat, and tears for me

and future generations to come.

I Only Wonder…

 

© 2009 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as Curiosity

Excerpt from page 58 of

“The Flower that Wasn’t Meant to Blossom”

Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP.

The Flower that Wasn’t Meant to Blossom, Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP (December, 2009).

Captain Savior (Curiosity)

Photo taken from the WEB

CAPTAIN SAVIOR

He beats her with emotional jabs,

Sets her up with the charming left,

Then the dashing right comes promptly after.

He punctures her gentle soul with splinters,

Slowing sucking away her grace.

She is blinded by youthful love,

Unable to register the truth.

Time after time again

She is made out to be the fool,

Oblivious to all his goddamn lies.

His infidelities tear her to shreds,

Crumbling a once pure-hearted woman

To her freshly scabbed knees.

It is my job

To restore faith upon her soul.

It is my job

To give life to her waning trust.

My job is to pull the wool from her eyes

And force her to accept the truth.

My job is to wipe away the salty tears

And blow hope upon the scars left behind

From the emotional jabs of past love.

2013 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as CURIOSITY

Excerpt from the upcoming chapbook,

CONCRETE PROMISES