I Didn't Quite Understand It At The Time
No tolerance do I have,
For those who show their gratefulness...
With their hands out.
I appreciate those having less than others.
I grew up like that myself.
But I always witnessed my mother doing things!
And they were always for someone else.
And my grandparents were wizards.
To this day no one can explain,
What they did and how that was done.
And my motivation comes from them.
Taking nothing for granted!
With no expectations from anyone!
No tolerance do I have,
For those who show their gratefulness...
With their hands out.
I saw my father's blistered hands.
From working with hot iron in the foundry.
He once had said he was cursed for being black.
And my mother he called 'high yellow'!
Saying she was 'lucky' for that.
But these 'traps' of having less,
And inflicting self defeat...
Was not a way I intended to look at life.
Not when I had dreams,
To be free of limitations and to write.
Sometimes it was said to me...
'Oh, he think he's white! '
By those totally brainwashed...
To live in ignorance.
Unmotivated and uptight!
No tolerance do I have,
For those who show their gratefulness...
With their hands out.
Nor do I hold a high regard...
For those on their knees in churches.
When a church in my own hometown,
Told my mom she could no longer play piano for them...
Because she didn't have a college degree.
Union Baptist is that 'joint'.
Where those of pretensions speak of their pedigrees.
And how proud they were to have slave masters!
Sick jackasses.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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