George Crayton

 

Palm Tree
 
You’ve seen me
You raise your hands above your head like you’ve seen your worst demon
The one that you swore you would die for has come to face you as you’re deceiving
Recognizing in pain, screaming
But in the midst of confusion, learning, knowing not where to go, standing
 
Now, know how the palm tree feels
Erected in solitude, dancing in the wind
Rejoicing in the sun light as a thousand needles protrude from its skin
 
Misunderstood and misused, emotionally disappointed and mentally abused
Deserted, angry in part; forsaken, misled in part
Faced with tribulation
 
Can’t move, planted in its own pain
Can’t speak, never had the gift of tongue or a brain
But it stands and will not be moved
The scars on its trunk shows at one time it healed after being bruised
 
Entrapped in a placed confronted by everything you thought you believed
The reality of facing the reality is real
Still holding your breath every time you encounter
Still looking away not wanting your heart to betray the thoughts your mind has so well developed
 
Now, know how the palm tree feels
Standing in majesty, whispering in the wind
Smiling in the sun light as a thousand needles protrude from its skin
 
You move swiftly like palm trees in a Harmattan storm
But your eyes move slowly
All the while, asking yourself how could it all have gone so wrong
 
I’m really not smiling, you’re saying to yourself, can they see that?
I’m not even here, still saying to yourself, can they tell that?
Alone your mind whispers to your heart, can they feel that?
 
The essence of the palm tree
There’s some pain you just can’t see
For in it, I understand all that it represents
Through me it expresses what it really means to wind dance
 
 
 
Africa’s Son

Didn’t know where the road was going
Sometimes not even knowing where we belonged
Here thinking of a way again today
This time not knowing for how long
 
Some days we watched everybody else
Wanting to do what they do, wanting to feel like they feel
Sometimes, wanting to be cool like them too
 
But our faces are not narrow, they’re wide
And we’ve never had the thing called pretty hear or colored dye
Our skin isn’t light but real dark
And our eyes look like moon light viewed from Yellow Stone Park
 
Growing to be men we realized what we were
Men above kings, men to make personality sing
In this is the beginning of your forefathers
Before their images were touched
Before their dreams were awakened
Before lashes made their spirits feel broken
 
We aren’t by nature disobedient but have tasted the innate ingredient
We remember when we walked across free lands
Held our people together and were rulers of our own clans
We remember the strength that built nations and empires
We remember conquerors; warriors; emperors, true to life fighters
 
As a matter of fact, from where you stand, you see what I see too
You see a smiling face to meet, a lifetime more in a heart beat
Africa’s dirt upon the feet, Atlantic’s salt, America’s sand
Understanding the path of the slave man
 
Now you hear the voices say
We are all standing for you; spirits that were, children of now
And them the ones to come
 
Saying in one voice:
“We are proud of you African man
You represent everything we hoped
Every dream we’ve imagined, and a manifestation of prayers lifted to God”

Promise
 
My tears flow like a flood
I can’t hide my pain
Look I’m writing with my blood
 
So far from home I count the days
I’m trying to understand life
I’m learning its ways
 
Every man is his own artist
Every life its own design
As others fall, others stand tall
As others grow big, big men grow small
 
Sometimes I just love to hear people say
Right now right here
I’m going to be there for you today
You turn your face, they turn away
Promise fades what a waste
 
So while standing at life’s counter
Don’t every forget the friends you’ve encountered
The songs you’ve sung, places you’ve traveled, people you might never meet again
 
My tears flow like a flood
I can’t hide my pain
Look at this flood, flowing from black blood
 
 
 
Face to Face
  
Standing face to face with bruised faces
Life has handed a beat-down, cruel traces, mad injustice
I can see the tracks of tears that came down in stages
Sometimes they frown from the thoughts of living in invisible cages
 
The 1st face remembers way back when
They would lie in their bed, close their eyes and pretend
That what was happening, couldn’t be happening to little girls at 10
 
2nd face, sixteen, fast wages; catching court cases; 20 to life, young black male faces
 
3rd face, you must agree, at 15 with a baby, didn’t expect for life to set you free
Now you’ve got to hustle,
Do you even understand to what degree?
 
In the 4th, crying child, your child is crying
There’s no denying that right now in your eyes living is not much better then dying
But keep on trying
 
I’m standing face to face with these bruised faces
Life has handed each a beat-down, cruel traces, mad injustice
I can see the tracks of tears that came down in stages
Sometimes they frown from the thoughts of living in invisible cages

 

Copyright © 2008 George Crayton