Thirst Grind

I don’t care for that rich
i scrap to get mine
From a bottle of water I sip
I wait for no sign

the first breath was all i need
been on go like a steed
oppression on my back
a constant attack

schools heavy on the race
lawyer rejecting my case
Drs ignoring my pain
Massachusetts insane

i don’t puff i ponder
like a first responder
I conquer the lane
observing the lames in the terrains

getting awards for being sellouts
watching negros suffer
we don’t get a bailout
times just get tougher

if you ain’t a prodigy
sucking D’s and bending over
Pick up any Black anthology
and peep the disclosure

dumbfounded that pains compounded
im well rounded and still astounded,
im at the bottom of the totem pole
struggling to complete my goals

though they broken i tug my boot straps
and when they resnap
i apply duck tape
twist a shape

so i can pull em up
before i self destruct
with hard work and a bit of luck
i’ll climb out this social muck

and side step the cluck
that use to be ridicule
form a Black chick by the vestibule
that got overruled

by the propensity
of my consistency
to rattle heads
bald, from, or filled with dreds

we gotta connect
at a common place
where we can reflect
our losses and relate

To the
This Grind


Maurice “Soulfighter” Taylor
(c) 4/14/24

One of Trumps judges just gave him a fighting chance.

https://apple.news/A8XykuDJYSFWbjajEuvkY3w

This roundabout in Lyss. Switzerland is a vinyl turntable

https://www.newlyswissed.com/turntable-roundabout-in-switzerland/

The debt we owe


We must respond to the drums,
we as Black men must cry,
we must break from lies chains us
To the rolls
that takes their tolls.
We must close our eyes
And listen to the inner cries
Let the tears roll
down so we can grow
We own no woman
The community owns us
We must be accountable
To our foundation
Listen to the case I’m making
We could
Be that life saving generation
Cry together
Hear each other
Love should
Be our motivation
The love our sisters and children
Our salvation
Lies within healing us and them


I’m so glad I was at the
La Mujeres De Bomba
International Women’s Celebration to honor

The number of Black women that are abused and hurt are staggering, the number of those Black women that don’t get help because they are Black is more heart breaking.

Fading Days
My joints use to carry me miles
now the miles are a nightmare
my joints use to be silent
now they are louder than hiccups
pain comes quicker with exercise
linger and slow to go
I see a gray peeking out
from the middle of my chin
is it sign of a loss
or a sign of a win
my scars have fainted
my stories half remembered
I'm still scared of tomorrow
and the possibility it may never come
my hips feel like their slipping
and I'm tripping for no reason
I may sound ungrateful
but i didn't think I'd make it this far
I might not be a celebrity
but if you knew my story
I'm ending this a star
the pain
the abuse
adoption and foster care
thoughts of suicide
temptation of murder
I realized I just wanted the pain to end
and my enemies to feel the pain they inflicted
through it all the birds chirping became less annoying
and the rain more tolerable
because the sweet tweets
signal the rise of color
and 3 seasons of aroma therapy
I'm slow to get up
rocking to the side of the bed
forcing myself to be perpendicular
to the bed
realizing that yesterdays pain i couldn't shed
But i will carry it well
until I learn to release
until my eyes fail me
and my ears can no longer hear
I will hang on in style
and continue to walk these last miles.
(c) Maurice Taylor
3.7.24