MELANIN

Knowing who I am, comes from within

My difference shouldn't be the color of my skin

It should be the virtuous caricature of being your friend.

 

Melanin is diversity's best friend.

Beige to ebony-brown life still moves around.

As the ancestor drums get loud

Segregation is like the colors of the rainbow.

Each one to its own place in an order that is its own

Is this the way equality should be known

Melanin is diversity's best friend.

There is so much more than the light you absorb 

Hear the complex stores of long-ago

Can't read a book by looking at the cover

There is much more to my complexion yet to be discovered.

Chemically I am different from you as humans; we are sisters and brothers.

Melanin is diversity's best friend.

Look deep inside, see peace and love through the eyes

Find those parts that you hide

In our walk through life, we look left and right.

You see other people's paths as you lose direction and wonder why

So look forward; there is so much more you will find

Melanin is diversity's best friend.

Trying to change to become what you already are

 Be who you are meant to be; this can sometimes is hard.

We march with heavy feet on these streets and hear the call of this land

A color that matters becomes an echoing chant.

A call for justice for all, justice for every man

©Copyright Thomas Dooley 2021

NOTES:

 

WHEN HARRY SINGS

Deep meaning entraining the feelings

Words to a story it is much more than dreaming.

Hear the calypso sound much more than singing

When Harry sings 

Everyone dancing, swaying their hips

When the music stops, we are left smiling.

The rhythmic claps as feet move to that.

Not separated by race only by time and space

His music has what we need to see.....

When Harry sings

Everyone moving to the rhythm of peace

Much more than a musical dream

A legacy of sound sing before the crowds

Not intimidated by anyone's thoughts.

It is love that defines art.

©Copyright Thomas Dooley 2020

 

 

FREEDOM OF THE SOUL

We give up on life when we think we are right

Only looking for a fight as the mind lives in the uneducated night

Freedom of the soul is more than religion.

It is the understanding of peace and how to embrace it and take hold.

When there is love between all human beings is when we are free.

We give up on life when we seek attention.

Everything you say or do, is proof your blind to your own reflection.

Freedom of the soul is more than emotions.

Thinking there untamed binding them up in chemical controls

When living life is about searching and finding 

We give up on life when we have no goals.

Sacrifice for the greater good never gets old.

Freedom of the soul is more than an accomplishment.

Ignoring the complex parts of life as simple solutions are bought and sold

If you don't reach out to feel you just stumble in the dark

We give up on life when there is no love.

The hero sits alone, looking down from above.

Freedom of the soul is more than a physical act.

A single emotion considered an activity dose does not make us whole.

Turning to a blank page does mean nothing is there; it means there is purity. 

We give up on life when there is no movement.

When we forget our passions and just stop, there is no improvement.

Freedom of the soul is more than action.

Children are the commitment to unconditional love that never gets old.

The recipe is a lot of education, and discipline of the mind is life fulfillment.

©Copyright Thomas Dooley 2020  

NO DIRECTION

Step up to the line without going over

Thinking you're a soldier but your only a loner

Looking to deceptive things for some direction.

With a gun in your hand, feeling like your a man.

Thinking you own this ancient land

The things you believe are not your own and give you no direction.

But you are the dust in the wind guided by sin.

Your willing to give up your freedoms just to say you win

You're intimidated by lies and fears; these have no direction.

Convoluted thoughts mixed with an uneducated mind you hide.

Unaware of other's misery only to find your on the wrong side of history

Thoughts and prayers give no comfort, no direction.

Complaining and calling names will never let you get your way.

Hearing only one voice now rehab is your only choice.

Your angry dry tears yelling to a deaf ear; there is no direction.

©Copyright Thomas Dooley 2020

 

THERE IS A WIND

The wind in the trees the sound of what it like to be free

The cry of a newborn son is the beginning of love

Where is that mountain top where Martin saw the dream

Where is that path to the valley of peace

Where is that message of hope hidden from me

The wind on the water pushing the waves of the past

The cry of dignity echoing through these monuments and memorials

Where is that promise that you maid to me 

Where is that voice to call for accountability in our choice

Where is that hand reaching down to pull up

There is a wind blowing through the street

There is a wind blowing through the halls

There is a wind in us all

©Copyright Thomas Dooley 2020

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