The man I want you to be (excerpt)

Posted by on Feb 26, 2014 in Letters to Son, Poems | 0 comments

“… I will not impose my black mentality or chant freedom songs like brigands standing on a Martin Luther King podium proudly waving their wrist-less arms to imitate a fist where hands should be, nor will I indoctrinate, instigate or insinuate a revolution as this world embraces economical, racial and sexual discrimination. In an espousal of non-violence, I will let history protest; protest against segregation and oppression, Stand for what Nelson Mandela slaved for, die for what Malcolm X died for, Sing of the freedom that Maya...

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Letters to My Son

Posted by on Mar 25, 2012 in Letters to Son, Poems | 0 comments

Letters to My Son by Stephen A. Dantes   Give me two mics; one for the poem and one for the poet And as the poet becomes obscurity against silhouetted night silence, the poem will echo in eardrums like tribalism screaming repatriation, Like love longing nostalgic bondage and loneliness that inspires stages of wanton   To want some of poem on a poet platter; Battered words drenched in sweat scattered left to right wing liberalism, Drummers kick with heels to BOOM sounds that reach no farther than cordless microphones in cramped mega...

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Fair Helen

Posted by on Feb 21, 2012 in Letters to Son, Poems | 0 comments

Fair Helen  by Stephen A. Dantes (Happy Independence Day Saint Lucia)   If I say that I knew you; A gorgeous girl Running the morning’s pride Dancing to bird-music Making nature gloat At the oddest hour, Would you believe? That girl who dreamt And once held, Played, Embraced the joy Of the sunlight’s thrill Bear-hugging worlds As far apart as Heaven molesting Earth or Venus’ tango with Mars, And she who remained Young in old skin, Yes, I knew her. Tiny footprints tattooed with Laughter on sandy fronts And virgin...

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Where I’m from There is No Freedom

Posted by on Dec 13, 2011 in Letters to Son, Poems | 2 comments

Where I’m from There is No Freedom by Stephen A. Dantes   I’m from an island where two Nobel laureates stand and where democracy is free to find favour in the words of my soul’s place But I live in a space where a mother’s face watches her son bleed lifeless on streets in rivers of blood as she shouts ‘waaaaiiiiiit’ to reality, but the system screams ‘kill em!’   This world is inequality, and though disgusting, I’m here to discuss it. And although I got a lot to learn, there are some things that I believe I was born...

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What if Juliet never met Romeo?

Posted by on Dec 11, 2011 in Letters to Son, Poems | 0 comments

What if Juliet never met Romeo? by Stephen A. Dantes   Her heart is Florentia after the brush laid thus I am Palazzo Vecchio before Leonardo, before Michelangelo, before Pisa and Siena. I am the Eiffel Tower to her France, her cri de coeur, I écrire freedom where chanteurs fail, where la historia imprison and el amor is stained by the artista. Like the English to her French I am Spain I will build métros to visit her tierras from under, Create couleurs on paletas that don’t exist just to peinture a portrait of her in my soul Je...

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in TIme

Posted by on Dec 11, 2011 in Letters to Son, Poems | 0 comments

in Time by Stephen A. Dantes     The cycle of life remains mysterious to those of us who remain. And with death; life is never the same again, we never see fully with opened eyes until we cross that great divide. But with each subtle proclaim of souls taken, we’re awaken to the realness of life, and of death. And in the hope of reuniting we set the pace for time left. The grave has no shame. It claims rich, poor, old, young, black and white, healthy or sick, male… female. And in time, when people meet to say goodbye  to loved...

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