how can we understand

those that enslave us

is of our own descent

he is the Asiatic Black Man.

Four hundred years and still counting

how can we look ahead

without respecting the dead

dooming future generations

their memories discounting.

And where are the men among men?

The M.L.K.’s the Douglas’s and the Malcolm’s.

Progress lacking real progression

reverse polaris by our own,

fear running rampant in our streets

we can’t embrace those we meet

and we forgot learned lessons.

Black men playing the part

of the fool, we thought a lost art

quietly sitting on their hands

speaking out of their asses

not willing to begin, or start.

And where are the men among men?

The M.L.K.’s the Douglas’s and the Malcolm’s.

Closing their eyes and ears

playing both sides of the fences

how do you reach out to a man

when you can’t see where he stands

don’t know his hopes and fears.

Disguising his treacherous character

grossly exaggerated persona,

at times he speaks, at times he don’t.

Who the hell are you, a cartoon,

a buffoon, or a caricature?

And where are the men among men?

The M.L.K.’s the Douglas’s and the Malcolm’s.

And yet we can’t get tighter as a race

can’t come together in the same place

though we are bonded in the same space

looks we give each other are venom laced

even when our survival is interlaced?

And the black woman she understands

that she can’t wear the shoes of the man

nor walk the path, we have to walk

or speak the words, we have to talk

only the black man, can save the black man.

And where are the men among men?

The M.L.K.’s the Douglas’s and the Malcolm’s.

poem by Wesley Allen Mack 2005 All Rights Reserved