The clouds have told me why.

When I look up I don’t need to fly. 

For heaven is above my eyes.

All around at every time.

The sacred firmament is what surrounds.

Whenever I see beauty I am astounded.

Then I realized I’m still grounded.

Baltimore Beat is running poems from participants in the group Writers in Baltimore Schools, which offers programming that builds skills in literacy and communication while creating a community of support for young writers.

The post Sky appeared first on Baltimore Beat.

I often found myself on a lonely highway, Soul picked me up and helped me balance a two way street. 

I had to learn that Soul for me was not a pink Cadillac or any other type of coon cage. 

Instead Soul was the sonic wave voyaging the black Atlantic that continuously blasted my consciousness throughout the years.

In the early years of my life, I heard the melodies of my people in the foreground and background.

Day after day, James Brown shocked my system by getting me on up out of the bed and on to the good foot.

There were surreal times when my soul soaked super mornings resembled “the face of an alarm clock that in each minute rings for sixty seconds.”

Soulful late nights repeated by homework illuminated moon lit thoughts such as “Chocolate doctor that doctored the document.”

Happy feelings were distant even if I am close to Maze.

Equations had got me going in circles, trying to figure out the radius of Soul.

Realizing the distance to any goal was a circle of struggle where times were good and bad.

Trying to stay together brought no pleasure facing inevitable pressure.

Perpetuating my perseverance by balancing the act in stormy weather.

In the rain I found myself often trying to find something that is meaningful on the inside.

The rain combined with strain caused pain in my eyes causing darkness to overflow.

Blind now with no alliances I had to figure out my self reliance.

Still I had trust in Soul, because it was always a guide, even when hope would subside, even if it was pulled away by the rising tide.

I was not sure if my faith would endure because distractions were going on everywhere.

Continuing to take footsteps in the dark being led by Soul that sparked the light in me.

Emerging from the caverns coated with crystals of nihilism I found sublime sunshine.

With new light I now had meaning which I could define.

Soul had brought me into the divine where from then on I was always on cloud nine.

From there my ears were like flowers where the song of the bee would pollinate anytime.

Oftentimes I had been stung by the song ending for a fleeting moment.

Like the tail of a comet that would become the new beginning for more pollination from one flower to the next song.

Even busy bees and playlists come to an eventual end that will be repeated.

Not defeated or conceded, rather energized, this high is temporary.

It seemingly lasts forever until I realize I am not in the garden, but in a concrete world of rhythmless commodities that contain no nectar.

Soul is always around as my protector.

Soul for me was my vector guiding me from my origin with direction and magnitude to destiny.

Soul acted like white blood cells taking out negativity in an experiment of immunochemistry.

My chemistry resides in muddy waters concealed somewhere between a double helix of  The Stylistics and the double consciousness of The Delfonics and Isley Brothers.

The music of these groups are always on loop in my mind and adjacent to my spirit with Garvey’s ghost.

Soul sirens guide my life because their chorus compliments my spiritual compass. This kind of Soul has helped me navigate toward the rhizomes of Soul.

Baltimore Beat is running poems from participants in the group Writers in Baltimore Schools, which offers programming that builds skills in literacy and communication while creating a community of support for young writers.

The post “Soul and Things” appeared first on Baltimore Beat.

5 years later reflecting on Curtis Mayfield and Freddie Gray

“Everybody’s misused him

Ripped him up and abused him

Freddie’s dead” 

Another Freddie is dead.

5 years ago there was confusion.

Why were there military tanks in the street?

I think black reflecting and knowing that there are boiling points for Baltimore and Frederick Douglass.

People get tired of being tread on. 

“We’re all built up with progress. 

But sometimes I must confess. 

We can deal with rockets and dreams.

But reality

What does it mean?

Ain’t nothing said

‘Cause Freddie’s dead”

In those moments people said that is enough.

Riots and the thoughts of revolution were brewing. While actions of rebellion were happening.

But now people try to forget with their minds caught in the net until another Fred is dead.

“Why can’t we brothers?

Protect one another

“No one’s serious

And it makes me furious

Don’t be misled

Just think of Fred.” 

The post Keeping Freddie dead? appeared first on Baltimore Beat.

This week, the Beat continues posting work from writers in the Writers in Baltimore Schools (WBS) program. This work was created at WBS’ Young Writers’ Summer Studio, a six-day writing camp held each year in August. This year, the Beat’s Lisa Snowden-McCray and Brandon Soderberg worked with the students for two of those six days. Some of the work here and much more will be published in WBS’ Writers’ Studio anthology out soon. We began with a piece from WBS founder Patrice Hutton and so far we brought you poems by WBS writers Abigail Mokuba, Jahi Heath, Christian Pearson, Kenniah Woodson, and A.H. Berry. Today, we have a poem by Gerard Johnson…

There is only justice for the strong.

Thraysmachus’s proposition still holds.

Justice for black people is often prolonged.

I hope in the future we break this unjust mold.

Socrates and his students talked about justice.

They believed the strong’s interest to be just.

Socrates’s caste system will fester injustice.

They forget that power can lead to the unjust.

In MockingBird justice does not win.

Atticus failed, but is praised as a hero.

An innocent man on death row is a sin.

Shades of Gray Justice

There is only justice for the strong.

Thraysmachus’s proposition still holds.

Justice for black people is often prolonged.

I hope in the future we break this corrupt mold.

Socrates and his students talked about justice.

They believed the strong’s interest to be just.

Socrates’s cast system will fester injustice.

They forget that power can lead to the unjust.

In MockingBird justice does not win.

Atticus failed, but is praised as the best.

An innocent man on death row is a sin.

But a real lawyer for justice is better than the rest

There are still good people left that can beat the powerful,

Justice can be restored from the rubble.

The reason for the title is that justice is gray.

The post “Gray Shades of Justice” by Gerard Johnson appeared first on Baltimore Beat.