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RENEE B. DRUMMOND-BROWN - POEMS

7/19/2018

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​I, Renee’ B. Drummond-Brown, am the wife of Cardell Nino Brown Sr. and from our union came Cardell Jr., Renee and Raven Brown. I am the offspring of Mr. and Mrs. Peter C. Drummond of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. My siblings are Delbert D. Drummond and the late Pastor Shawn C. Drummond. I was born in North Carolina, at Camp Lejeune US Naval Hospital. I am a graduate of Geneva College of Pennsylvania, and my love for creative writing is undoubtedly displayed through my very unique style of poetry, which is viewed globally. My poetry is inspired by God and Dr. Maya Angelou. Because of them I pledge this: “Still I write, I write, and I’ll write!”
 
“Renee’s Poems with Wings are Words in Flight” is flown across the seas by God’s raven. There are several Scriptures that I love; however, this one speaks volumes during this ‘season’: “And he sent forth a raven, which went forth to and fro, until the waters were dried up from off the earth.” (Genesis 8:7 KJV)

​ALL God’s  Childrens’ Aint Got “Heavy” Shoes!

God placed His heavy weight
in my shoes. Therefore,
“my feet’s” and I, shall not, be moved,
nor complain. The eyelids of my shoes
remind me, to watch, fight, and pray.
 
The tongue of my shoe
is but a two-edged sword.
Speaks volume! Cuts going in!
AND…coming out for sure.
 
My shoes’ inner sole 
reminds me to love the Lord God with all my heart.
With all my mind. And, with all my soul!
 
The shoe heel reminds me; to not see
the plagues that surround me,
nor the valley lows or mountain tops before me,
BUT rather
to look to the hills from which “MY” help comes.
Which is, the Father God (within me).
 
The 2-tied loops, lacing my shoes
touts’ a knot, and is but, a threefold cord.
The cord represents the noose
and the knot reminds me: THAT…
I.WEAR. SOME. HEAVY. SHOES. fo sho!
 
ALL God’s childrens’ aint got heavy
shoes to bear!
I wear a size S.L.A.V.E.R.Y.
What size ‘YOU’ wear?
 
 
Dedicated to: “my Momma,” who taught me how to ‘watch’, fight and pray. I miss you B.A.D.
 
A B.A.D. Poem
​

​EVERY MAN IS an Island

​Every man is an island
Alone answering for one’s soul
Alone in the grave
Alone in death
Alone in grief
Alone in sin and furies of insanities plea
 
 
Alone in truths
Alone in lies
Alone in mess
Alone in friction
Alone in bitterness
Alone in cries
Alone in loneliness
 
 
Alone in the fight
Alone in shame
Alone in the shuffle
Alone in the why’s???
Alone in the night
Alone in the game
 
 
Alone in wealth
Alone in leadership
Alone in the struggle
Alone in growth
Alone in the climb
Alone in poverty
Alone in schizophrenic mind(S)
 
Alone at birth.
 
No man is an island is a brazen lie
at best. But, alone…
One man can change the world
and make a difference!
 
Dedicated to:  Alone we return and alone we enter.
 
A RocDeeRay Poem
 
No part of this poem may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without written permission from the author. All Rights Reserved@ October 6, 2017.

FREE TREES? 
​

​“And we are witnesses of all things which he did both in the land of the Jews,
and in Jerusalem; whom they slew and hanged on a tree:
Him God raised up the third day, and shewed him openly;
(Acts 10: 39-40 KJV)
As did Mamie Till-Mobley!
 
Someone
once said, “Nothing in life is free.”
 But the black man knows ALL about
free trees???
And He heard our boys’ faintest cries
and answered them by and by.
 
 
Black boys felt the oppression ‘burnin,
while those prayer wheels kept ‘turnin,
And from that noose;
The Father set them free!
Just a little talk with Jesus in free trees
was all that they needed.
 
 
Those dangling boys cried,
Precious Lord take our hand,
 Lead us on
into the Promised Land.
Our mind is weary, our body is weak,
 Lord our souls rest in Your hands!
 
 
Stress around their neck(s), numbness in their hands,
All oxygen cut off from
I AM THAT I AM.
I beg of you Father; like Judas,
let ‘em’ do what they must do quickly,
 and keep raising ‘em’ up again, and again, and again!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Yesteryears those sheets covered their face.
Today’s verdicts are pure disgrace.
But Our Father which Art In Heaven, will have the last say,
Hallowed would be thy Name over the entire human race.
.
 
 
Black boys can’t you see…
There’re still plenty ‘FREE TREES’?
 
 
 
Dedicated to: My Nephew(s)
 
 
A B.A.D. Poem
 
Other books by Renee’ Drummond-Brown:
~TRIED, TESTED and TRUE POETS from ACROSS the GLOBE!
~A B.A.D. Poem

He Beat Me
​

Massa please!
Done; done all you ask!
I cooked;
red rice and beans.
I cleaned;
scrubbing ‘doze hardwoods. On bended hands and knees!
Polished silverware for ENGLISH crumpets and tea.
Breast-fed those babies;
while calling ‘em Ms. Missy!
Ev’n listened to Mrs. Millies’ warrant-less pleas.
Stayed quiet while raping me.
Got up, an’ attended your ‘chillins needs.
Picked cotton ‘inna field of fleas.
Ev’n watched a 13 year ol’ Negro ‘swang from a tree;
‘screamin “MASSA PLEASE!” (guess, un-lucky).
Pled the blood ‘fo me.
Plead the sinners plea…
Wondered if a Savior or Underground gone ‘eva come ‘fo me?
 
All ‘dats left to do
is get, the lashes that await me
and start all ov’r on ‘morrows journey.
He Beat Me.
 
 
Dedicated to: So, deserving of me and them slaves.
 
A RocDeeRay poem
​

THE PERFECT RUNWAY MODEL
​

He walked the bloody red carpet.
Carrying sin on His back. Received a sitting ovation;
while under sanctified massive attack!
“Crucify Him! Crucify Him!”
is what the mob yelled!
“Father forgive them please” was His silent prayer for them;
while conspicuously, on their way…“STRAIGHT” to monopoly’s Hell!
 
Draped in all purple; no designer name.
Nonetheless, touting a crown of thrones-Euphorbia milii;
 fashioned in vogue
from the spurge family.
Fitted. One of a kind.
Designed for a Jewish King.
 
Strike a pose! No! Never. Not He.
Selfies’ was something,
He; Himself, The Trinity DID NOT BELIEVE.
 
This models faultless look
caught everyone’s eye;
He took the runway by storm
with that distressed wood worn
as He hung silently
‘onna chosen timber tree.
Crucified openly
for the ENTIRE world to see.
Strike a pose! No. Never. Not He!
 
Dedicated to:  Strike a pose! No. Not He! Lights camera…He “only” takes action!
 
A B.A.D. poem
​

The Choice is Up to You?
​

“When you hear about slavery for 400 years…For 400 years? That sounds like a choice” (Kanye West). “NO IT DON’T; IT SOUNDS LIKE SIN” (Renee Drummond-Brown).
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose
designer irons used for our neck, minds’, hands, and our feet;
anchor ring, ankle rack, belly chains, bending fiber, blindfolds and body chains.
Think I’ll go with the anchor ring?
SWEET!
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose which Atlantic Slave Trans we’d ride
when sailing the soft raging seas;
La Amistad’ or Lord Ligonier (either-one, don’t matter) would certainly be
suitable for my ancestors
and me!
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose to leave WEST Africa in 1619,
an’ settle in Virginia’s extravagant
HGTV’s plantation colonies.
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose
those wonderful auction blocks to be sold away from
our natural families.
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose
stunning surnames and become “made in the USA’s” private property.
Brown suits my family’s name just fine (by me).
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose
gods’
which stripped us away from our spirituality
and separate us from the true God of Israel
who was meant to be.
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose
losing our unusable mother tongue;
to speak Ebonics so eloquently.
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose
being handsomely raped
EVER so “freely.”
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose
picking snuggly-cotton sun-up to sun-down;
wage-free.
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose
straightening combs, jheri curls, weaves and perms
I’ll stick to B.D.’s invented braids for sure. No; maybe, swag me
some, blondes have more fun, twisty’s.
 
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose
giving our sweet chocolate milk away
to ANY and EVERYBODY’S babies!
What a willing wet-nurse treat???
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose
“our Studs”
to produce more babies
for fiscal slavery.
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose
improper foods
for our privileged families.
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose
no hats, coats, gloves or Cam-shoes
for our pampered spa-polished feet
 
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose
which whips, we prefer be-used,
WHILE being beat.
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
allowed us to choose
which garden of Eden trees
we’d wanted to swing!
 
 
The Home of the brave and land of the Free
by all means,
allowed us to choose
400 years of tormented pleas.
 
 
IF,
the Home of the brave and land of their Free
truly allowed us a choice
to be or not to be
enslaved…
Betta by golly wow; without, a shadow of a doubt,
we’d certainly choose 400 more years of delightful “evil-plagued” slavery
while giving it “our” finest praise and shout!
2 THUMBS UP!
SLAVERY “WAS NOT” A CHOICE Kanye,
without a shadow of a slaves doubt.
 
 
ACCORDING TO Google.com, (https://www.google.com/search?q=define+choice&oq=define+choice&aqs=chrome..69i57j0l5.4261j1j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8)
 
 
Choice
 
CHois
 
noun
1.      1.
an act of selecting or making a decision when faced with two or more possibilities.
"the choice between good and evil"
synonyms:
option, alternative, possible course of action
"you have no other choice"

 
 
 
Dedicated to:
Shake it to the east, shake it to the “WEST”;
our choice will be slavery Kanye, which we truly love the best!
 
 
A RocDeeRay poem
​

PLAN B in ‘da house!
​

​Union measures, such as
Confiscation Acts and Emancipation Proclamation
in 1863, WAR; WHAT IS IT GOOD FOR? ‘Everythang!
It ended slavery.
Removing those visible chains from one’s neck, hands and copper-toned feet.
 
Party ‘ov’r here! Party ‘ov’r there!
While ‘you’ze ‘laughin and ‘jokin…
The invisible PLAN B APPEARED!
The new improved slavery. Well let’s JUST say;
for the sake of ‘sayin…its ‘SMOKIN!
 
AKA: DOPE!
Cloud 9
SUCCESSFULLY impairs one’s judgement and ‘mindS,
learning, freedom and memory. Addicting one, to loss realms of hope.
Forgetting to forget plan B effectively enslaves one, mentally.
Thus, hampering the user’s ability
to think themselves as ‘ev’r becoming free.
 
The dope certainly took us for broke.
Arresting the ‘mindS
to plantation grinds as we so willingly smoke.
 
Now 400 years later…
We’re back to Genesis.
Turning into our own traitors!
The new improved slavery has no color…
It’s our mother’s, father’s, sisters and brothers
and perilous to say, Kanye, it’s a choice, one to another.
 
Dedicated to: The ‘ol effective back-up plan UNTIL we’re back in visible chains.
 
A RocDeeRay Poem
 
 

No More Chains Holding Me
​

​A secure spot where a slave ‘girlz’ bound to be;
metals ‘bout’ 1 inch thick
AKA
ANCHOR RING
 
Lest we forget ‘Da’
ANKLE RACK
wooden like
a set of stocks,
‘wit’
circular openings in ‘da’ bottom and top blocks.
Hinged at ‘da’ left,
secured ‘ev’r’ so ‘VERY’ tight.
Used to cut ‘dem’ feet off
to punish runaway’s in ‘da’ ‘STEAL’
of  ‘dem’ nights!!!
 
 
‘Da’ racks up, palms on ‘da’ ground,
hoofs axed off. No more!
Northern bound!
 
Around ‘da’ waist
of  ‘doe’s’ big boned hips, pad locked
‘BELLY CHAINS’,
ham hocks, cornbread, an’ ‘dem’ greens;
‘da blame
for all o’‘dis’.
 
‘Deeze’ very chains
unto ‘dis’ day,
‘STILL’
‘holdin’ me
ridiculously insane!
 
How could ‘ONE’ forget?
‘Da’ BINDING FIBER;
two shall become one
strip, O’ leather.
On ‘da’ ground, face down, wrapped ‘round’, 3 times.
As in a leash or a whip
as known as ‘Da’ Slave ‘girlz’
equipment!!!
 
Hide and seek
“YOU’RE IT!!!” ‘Da’ BLIND FOLD’s ready now
don’t you take a peek.
Two rounded pieces of felt folded cloth
or  scarf.
‘Jus’ keep ‘dem’ lips exposed, slave ‘girlz’.
WATCH IT NOW
last man out, you ‘otta’ know.
YOU’RE ‘DA’ ONLY PREY AND THE “SWEET THANG” CAUGHT!
 
Shoop ‘de’ shoop
Hula hoop.
BODY CHAIN
five feet long
Loop ‘bout’ ‘da’ neck
and
throat.
You bet.
Security is key
decorated ‘wit’ wooden beads
and O’ ‘dem’
semiprecious stones
attached to ‘da’ chains
leather in all.
Shoop ‘de’ shoop
‘Dats’ why’ze
us
‘colour’ ‘girlz’
can shake our ‘thangs’ and hula hoop.
 
Shoop ‘de’ shoop
Shoop ‘de’ shoop
Shoop ‘de’ shoop
Shoop ‘de’ shoop
Shoop ‘de’ shoop
Shoop ‘de’ shoop
Shoop ‘de’ shoop
 
No More Chains Holding Me
‘Cuz’
‘Imma’ shake my ‘thang’ and hula hoop
till ‘I’z’ free
shoop ‘de’ shoop.
 
 
Dedicated to:
Get out of jail FREE, don’t pass go, nor collect $200-‘Jus’ Hula Hoop (Shoop ‘de’ shoop)
 
A B.A.D. Poem
 
 
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