"Momma's Worry" by TS Hawkins

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Repetitious Anarchy Slow Brews

If my son was Trayvon Martin...
He'd be the embryonic melee I crafted from neglecting my past
adorned in media backlash
hood donned in new ghettos
where neighbors watch neighbors gun down peace in candy coated innocence
complacent to the status quo
my arms the concrete streets you now lay your head
where strangers click "like" at your funeral;
re-tweeting eulogy as symbol of activism
If my son was Trayvon Martin...
The Scottsboro Boys and Emmett Till would have etched told-you-so's through my uterus
raping aborted hope from the lining of my womb
reminding me its not over until the white lady screams
If my son was Trayvon Martin...
X would mark the beginning
the never-ending cycle of debauchery where tranquility is found in bloodstain blueprints
HISTORY; the skipping American booze record drowning future in scapegoated fortune
masked in
white noise...
white noise...
white noise...
fades to black
where black fades to the inseam of the mainstream agenda
executing truth to the lies of judge and jury
as "I Am Troy Davis" t shirts become currency for Oscar Grant and the misfires of justice
tasing our faces with the same paint used to tell our legacy
lethargy; the paralyses we allow to tap shoe in tar covered pigmented yesteryear
If my son was Trayvon Martin...
It would be just another Thursday April 4th 1968
assassinated mountaintop hopes
too high for the consciousness of some
If my son was Trayvon Martin...
He'd be the fraternal twin of the Jena Six that swung like new news until the nation grew tired of hanging its dirty laundry
If my son was Trayvon Martin...
It means I still live in a world where I failed to do my part
Where Mother Land means mother wounded circumstances
attempt to balance inequities with club parties and commercial apologies
So until social constructs mean more than updating Facebook
to StumbleUpon a new call to action
I postpone his entry into society
But name him Aydin Euchynin; God's fiery gift
so you'd never call him HEADLINE
Let him know, that as his mother, its better I pull the trigger


Poetry4ACause: Donate $5 to the National MS Society & a get FREE poetry CD!

Click on the photo of the Z-Maniacs to help Keisha Johnson raise funds in finding a cure for the National MS Society & receive a FREE demo copy of TS Hawkins new poetry cd "Running Still Water"!!!
[read more below]

My mentor Keisha Johnson is doing a very amazing thing...Zumba-ing for MS! Last year, her group the Z-Maniacs, raised $3000 and this year they have set their sights higher but they need your help!!!!

I, TS, have donated monetarily already but decided to take it a step farther thanks to the amazing inspiration she has given me...

With that said, I am putting my time and talents to work in homage to my mentor but most importantly finding a cure for MS! From now until April 1, 2012, ANYONE who donates $5 or more will receive a FREE demo copy of my NEW poetry cd "Running Still Water" :)

All proceeds go toward the National MS Society. You can donate and gather more information on what Keisha and her team are all about by clicking on the photo of the Z-Maniacs or click this special link

Once you donate, contact me TS Hawkins for further details on how to acquire your FREE cd!!!

Thanks in advance for all your support :-)


Sabbath...Say What?

...The audacity of church...
sinners convene
bedecked in saintly pasties
the just enough to render them better than the naked truth
Bibles high as church bells
congregants spiral down through off-pitched hymns
stripping "the word"
Lord only knows that the cover charge was too steep
not wanting to debate with Satan's bouncers
who usher in whomever they please
I remain home
the Devil dare not find me there today

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