CALL ME MASTER

Calling me boss 

    Does that make more of a man

Do I have a higher qualification than you?

Are you in my employ?

Why did you grant me such a status?

Are you calling me a boss

    Does that make you less of a person?

Is you three-fifth man?

Compromise with a pen in hand

Banneker letters caused him to have carpel tunnel

Why do you call me boss

    Do you need direction or can't make your own decisions

What is the purpose of a word that puts you in a lower class?

Is it a nice way to call me white trash?

My education and the status of my degree does not say that

Don't call me boss

    It sounds like your loss

That word was chosen to hide the domination of racism

It lurks within the context and tone 

If it was 400 years ago would you be calling me master.

Don't call me boss

Call me friend or call me brother

©Thomas J. Dooley 2024  

BORN OF PAIN / STOLEN NAME

Born of pain cursed to live that way
A forgotten name marked with shame
Guilt by association becomes your fame

A stolen name becomes the scares on the back of a forgotten man.

Fading away to become the dust of another land

Bitterness replaced by forgiveness justice is a slap of the back of a hand.

Born of pain the mind struggle the mental slaying 

The community broke apart day after day.

Families striving for a better way

A stolen name becomes a nations bitterness

Contempt for the past without forgiveness

Celebrating a heritage of hatefulness

Born of pain crushed by the inhumanity 

No matter how sharp the knife we still bleed

Reparations will not make you free

A stolen name becomes the bust on the history page.

A platform of uneducated political rage

Fact and feeling become the moves of this game.

©Copyright Thomas Dooley 2020

  

I BEAT THE GROUND

I beat the ground here with fists and with tears
Never to make a wrong a right and never to lose sight
Got to remember the stories and continue the fight

I beat the ground
At the base of the locust tree
So that the ghost of the strange fruit can be free

I beat the ground with marching feet
Every step closer to equality
Look at the black and white photos of the call for dignity

I beat the ground
With peace as the gravel cuts the hand the knuckles bleed
Who died here children, women or men as we hear the stories again

I beat the ground with my mind
Looking past political lies freedom is my right
Ignorance is no excuse when you break the rules

I beat the ground
With optimism hearing the echoing sounds of Martin and Malcolm
A definite dream striving for its reality

I beat the ground with my voice
I demand the right to a choice
To hear the stories of injustice

I beat the ground
To never forget
The stories should not end with regret, but with how to forgive


©Copyright Thomas Dooley 2020