Written Against Cultural Stagnation

WACS' Public Service Announcements

It ain’t no surprise that the games they play is like a national pastime
the last time I checked
a brother with 2 strikes never walked
and another was on deck
And even though home is where the heart is
it takes you 3 bases to get there
Rounding single mothers
Double life brothers
and triple body count numbers
This is where home runs are no fun
if you’re running home
that means you are crossing state lines
even time zones
to escape the hounds pounding on your old front doors
The war going on outside is a sport for the blind’s viewing
while they chew tobacco in the living room spewing
racial epithets at a T.V. screen
50 inches in size
concealed hate crimes
committed within the fair play lines
And they say it’s time for us to watch the warning signs and change for these times
But see, we weren’t the managers during Katrina
We weren’t FEMA
But we see how they reacted when those California trees started steaming
They didn’t know we were watching?
They made the evident problem come to light with darker days to follow
1,600 spectators headed for the open door
while only the looters were counted on their scoreboard
2 ½ years later they dugout the supplies
and pitched them in the bullpen of charity right before our eyes.

It must have been opening day at their Superdome of lies

The Freedom of Expression
Presenting both answer and question
Through the times when troubled waters were tested
The people spoke of blessings
Through the times when reading was forbidden
Defiantly hiding, the people sought the written word’s riches
The Freedom of Expression
That ultimate force that affects change on land
Because power concedes nothing without a demand.

Evolution

Searching for the unseen
through the forest beyond the trees.
Searching for a peace of mind
in a field of shattered dreams.
Searching for time
in a cycle of sunsets.
Searching for better days
with every breath.

Mommy has already laid you down and tucked you in your sheets
I was on my way home when you fell sound asleep
Rest your head, little queen
Your peaceful face personifies my peace of mind
Your closed eyes allow me to see the depth of this inner peace of mine
Your face propels me to race towards the future with a clear objective
Focused on growth in a time where some of our youth are neglected
Sleep tight, little queen
Envision who you will grow to be
And please, don’t visualize me
Please dream to be even greater than me
That’s who I want and need you to be
Dream huge and don’t let a nightmare fool you
Scare tactics are only there to make your character true
You are the child of a man but first you are a child of God
Sleep tight little queen, this is where you belong.

A story of triumph wounded by defeat
happiness blended with pains inner cover
tears falling into the heavenly smile she tried to keep
the blues, lady sang those like no other.

A story of strength tarnished by weakness
the life of a star cannot be easy
the lights, the cameras, the road trips through seasons
to where folks tripped over color for one reason.

Elegance personified through song
a voice of bitter sweet emotion through each psalm
flowing as a river pure
yet unsure of the path it may follow
though its source is where peace is infinite
troubled roads bearing strange fruit could hinder it.

A story of rhythm blended with blues
A story of beauty with the ground beneath her shoes
A woman of color singing like a caged bird
Words of clear and present life through verse
An angel with wings of silk
built to glide the wind with grace, style, and lyrics
fluidly flowing from the river which was she.

*This poem has been Written Against Cultural Stagnation. Thank You for your time. (AP)

The recognition that we are a whole
facing times out of control
Times where priests touch children
and children shoot up schools
Our occupation of a nation
is an engagement with no rules
Education is lacking
Charter schools are losing backing
Rap is under attack because it’s no longer a “Black” thing
Affirmative action is now racist
The media is tasteless
The war going on outside ended up in my basement
and they ain’t got a suspect the first
And what’s more worse
is they ain’t even looking in the first place

Justice does injustice
then after 25 years
they say “we made a mistake
DNA has proven your case”
25 years late
And that smile cannot be a frown
because you will become the hater
The hater of a system that took 25 of your years

Regardless if you had shed some tears
you will be labeled ungrateful and “angry”
See, when we raise issues we are considered “angry”
The truth is so hard to swallow
that starvation is power
We would rather not say, than say
how society has become hollow

But I can’t take that road
my soul will not let me quit
every time I try to lighten up
they tighten up their grip
Telling us that 50 shots don’t prove guilt
But let that man protect his son in his driveway
See what kind of justice he gets.

excerpt from pg. 47 of Written Against Cultural Stagnation Vol. 1: The Raised Curtain

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth

And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms

When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn and scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil

When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze

When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse

When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets

Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world

When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines

When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear

When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.

The Fire Within

Within me is a fire being stoked by the presence of lost hope
amongst the environment as a whole
In the dark are the children of a brighter generation
Misguided  
so products of the environment are raising
You see, it’s not about the black fist raising
It’s about the lessons our elders gave us
It’s about awareness gaining
The recognition of the blessings in our favor
The flame within me is karma manifested through my persona
resurrecting the idea of honor
An open path to Heavenly math
where One nation is the product
of God times Man
It burns to learn the depth of my path
Where silence was once golden
it is devaluing fast
Though our past holds pain
we’ve been seeing some glory
but through the Tunnel Vision we cannot see the whole story
The fire in me is scorching
My paper becomes ashes forming                
blowing into the wind                                  
while the ink from my pen bleeds thin
My degrees allow my hands to craft nothing
now the freedom in my mind must scribe something.

excerpt from pg. 3 of Written Against Cultural Stagnation Vol. 1: The Raised Curtain

Today a 10 year-old girl was shot in the stomach in broad daylight while sitting on a porch. This incident underscores the violence occurring in my city and many cities across the board. The prevalence of gang culture has infested the streets and more times than not is the cause of this reckless abandon amongst the youth. A good friend of mine just recently lost a 13 year old cousin to this madness. A good kid at the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunately, in Irvington, NJ, the wrong place can even be your own front porch. When innocent children are victims of random gunfire, we must all take notice in some form or fashion. Some may choose to write these situations off as simply “life in the hood”, but at what point does it begin to affect our perspective on society as a whole. We are not here to provide details of the stories we reference. We simply aim to be a change of pace when it comes to artistic and journalistic focus. When we cover these stories and give our views on the matters, we are in no way aspiring to change the world. We are in the business of is promoting inspiration, awareness, and growth. We intend to shed light where darkness lies. Who’s job is it to acknowledge these situations? Are we to simply rely on the print press and the mainstream media to state what’s going on in our communities?  If we are, then we are leaning on a cold shoulder. We are living in a time where the three facets of life which we promote are keys to our overall endurance. Our aim is to carry on the tradition of not existing in vain. As writers, we feel we have a duty to acknowledge the happenings around us. We feel strongly about utilizing our tools to create dialog surrounding the issues of the day. So on this day, we send our prayers out to the young girl involved in the above-mentioned incident, along with the family and friends of Justin William Grisham. When innocent children are victims of random gunfire, we must all take notice in some form or fashion.

*This message has been Written Against Cultural Stagnation. Thank You for your time. (AP)

Anthony Pearson

As a writing community we must all recognize each other as parts of a great sum. We celebrate the freedom of expression through various facets of our artistic culture with the hopes to inspire those who encounter us. We at WACS recognize that continuing to create outlets for the writers of the world to be read and heard is what the writing community as a whole must do to remain relevant in this age of rapid technological advancement. In no way is WACS in competition with any online poetry organization. Our mission is to promote inspiration, awareness, and growth to whomever visits our pages. We fully recognize that the online writing community contains much individual ambition and we, at WACS, believe that without the proper posture, our artistic culture is vulnerable to some of the same defects that plague the entertainment world as of right now. Our main focus must be to carry on tradition. We are motivated by the example set by the Harlem Renaissance, where more names than some may know came into their own through this era in history. There was no individual ambition that threatened this community because everyone involved felt obligated to contribute their best efforts to this cause. There are many poetry organizations who serve the purpose that we support. The truth of our matter is that reading is becoming less fundamental to our children today due to the promotion of not only slang, but also the abbreviating of the language to fit into the realm of texting, e-mailing, instant-messaging, etc. Schools are failing, this is absolutely true. Some schools are passing children who are not reading at grade level simply to meet the school board’s quota in order for them to maintain funding. We at WACS embrace literacy first and foremost in our endeavors to shed light on our everyday thoughts. A number of our contributors are proud parents who recognize the need for more writing communities not only online but within our own communities. We, as writers, have something substantial to offer to the people. There are many poetry organizations who serve the purpose that we support. Our words are our true stories, feeling, thoughts, and beliefs. I do, and always will, consider myself a writer, period. I write poetic statements with the aim of creating dialogue on the subject at hand. I don’t write for snaps or claps. I write for the feeling and the after-thought. Some may disagree with my assessment and that is not totally unexpected; we truly welcome responses on this matter.

Anthony Pearson



 “Separation is self-destruction, what is needed is unification“.
Tupac Shakur

 Thy remembrance shall endure into all generations.
102nd Psalm

On this day, June 25, 2009, the world lost and extraordinary figure in Michael Jackson. Our condolences go out to his numerous family members and close friends.

Give a man no childhood and what kind of man do you expect him to become? I have seen few/if any examples of the circumstances endured by Michael Jackson.  Imagine being a celebrity at 5 years old and never falling off through your whole life, in fact, being in the public eye more and more as you got older. How many child celebrities, stars, etc. get that “luxury”?

The man was a genius, and I don’t use that word very often when describing an artist of any kind. The coordination of his music and performance remains unmatched. His body of work is impeccable. He has already went down as the most influential pop star in history. He can easily be mentioned among the most influential people on American culture within the last 50 years as well.

Over the years many people have looked at MJ through the eyes of the media. I will definitely admit that he bought some of that madness on himself, but I would also admit that I feel the media is biased to begin with. Just tonight I saw how the Sly Fox news channel was constantly bringing up his court cases, assets, and showing footage of him after being acquitted. While CNN and MSNBC were celebrating his life in a more respectable and human fashion, at least for tonight. Granted, the man was different. The man had no childhood. What kind of man did anyone expect him to become? WACS will follow this tragedy of talent throughout the next couple of weeks providing our view on not only a musical icon, but a true humanitarian, pioneer, entertainer, you name it, who paved the way for so many and deserves the proper respect which some never gave him during his life. Peace and blessings to you.

Will Sparano

WACS Publishing

"With inspiration slain and they people drained
Times as they knew them would change".

These lines summed up my point of view on how times changed after the loss of both Malcolm and Martin. It became open season on any progressive movement within the Black community for J. Edgar Hoover and his Federal Bureau of Investigations. They were bent on dismantling any organization who decided to carry on the legacies left by these two great leaders. The people were aware and active during these times and that posed a threat to the government to the point they deemed the BPP, “the greatest threat to the internal security of the nation” These movements were suppressed through a government solution of death, division, and counter-intelligence. More and more political prisoners were being taken off the streets and served with sentences based on trumped up charges and outright fallacies.

If they weren’t serving sentences they were serving up service. The draft into Vietnam is a major turning point of our history. Lyndon Johnson was practically forced into Vietnam after JFK was assassinated. And there is where you see why John and Bobby Kennedy are mentioned within the piece. This war bought back many amputees and addicts. To this day, I  run into Vietnam Vets Downtown Newark who will express themselves to you about how they’ve been treated since returning from the war all for a dollar. I have studied enough history to form the opinion that Richard Nixon exploited that war, bought the drugs from Vietnam over to the U.S. (if Frank Lucas was importing keys, imagine how much the Fed was packing in those coffins), all to later form the DEA. The DEA’s first action was to further criminalize weed and other drugs the “hippies” were into at the time and push their product on the people, and of course their product was and still is highly accessible.  

This piece is about carrying on the legacies left before us while recognizing how the past has impacted today. This piece was written to shed light on 2 great leaders whose mere presence changed the course of history. The title was chosen after creation. The working title was Echoes of a Dream. I will admit that I chose Lorraine Audubon as the title for the sake of mystique. The title is linked to the Lorraine Motel and the Audubon Theater. Anyone who knows the basics of Black History understands the significance of these two locations. I figured that if you catch it immediately you would be interested in reading the piece, which remains ultimately a work in progress. Thank You for reading. Be well. OneLove OneNation!  

Anthony Pearson

Lorraine Audubon Phase I

Echoes of a dream left unfulfilled
When sounds of this magnitude ring no one is healed
This is what it sounds like when time stands still
This is what it looks like when hate turns real
John, Malcolm, Martin, and Bobby in 5 years
where did we go from here?

With inspiration slain and the people drained
times as they knew it would change
Ms. Lorraine Audubon
has affected our hearts with global pain
Our spirit is in question
Amid the depression
future revolutionaries are arrested
The unity of the community is tested
Add government drug sales that flooded the streets
Subtract multiple brothers who flooded cells in fleets
The revolution was being quelled
No means necessary would be dispelled
The movement suppressed through solutions
of death, division, and Counter Intel
That grandstanding Hoover plan
to disarm hands which rebel
Resistance led to sentences
indented into our consciousness
Deception with the perception of truth
staining the glass ceiling of a nation
embroiled in looting and raw feelings
Picture the watts when the lights went off
then the lights went off over in Newark
Now the city is charred
and filled with the national guard
armed with a curfew to create control
of an uncontrollable force
forcing the nation into regression of its thoughts
While the draftees return from the big V
to spend their days chemically imbalanced
under V A bed sheets
The balance of power greatly shifted
toward the Watergate Right’s hook
At the podium stands a crook
After Johnson’s failed Great Society attempt
the country was the hostage Nixon took
Passed bills from the latter years made it appear
as if progress was imminent through the shadows of fear
Who was to know what was near?

To be continued…

The gift of being a father has impacted my life in ways I never could have imagined. To look within myself and recognize my own growth has been a very meaningful experience for me. I must say, the privilege of fatherhood has not only opened my mind, but it has also widened my view of my not only my own surroundings, but of humanity as a whole. I chose to relay my thoughts post-Father’s Day this year because I wanted to spend my day reflecting and looking back on my years of being a father up to this point. To me, this was not merely a celebration of the fact. This day comes where within the next month I will once again be a father, this time one of a daughter. Raising 2 boys gives me a chance to use my experiences in order to ensure they don’t make some of the same mistakes I once have. Raising a daughter will be a totally different experience in which I have not an idea what to expect. Her mother, my wife, will without a doubt be my guiding light through our daughter’s life. My oldest son will be entering the 2^nd grade and my youngest, Pre-K. These are the years that are allowing me to witness them grow into their own personalities and it is amazing to see myself in them. They emulate daddy. They want to do all the things daddy does. And there is where my real work as a father lies. Children innately look up to their parents. Children don’t know what a good parent is. Children simply know the parents they see. I for one, even while writing this piece, am striving to maintain the fatherly strengths I have grown to gain and also to strengthen the fatherly weaknesses that still remain. Being that I have my own individual flaws, I often find myself pondering areas of improvement within my overall character on a day-to-day basis. I have truly been blessed with a responsibility that I deserve as well as cherish. My goal is to be an ever-improving father because I believe that when you set an ultimate goal, and achieve it, you close the space for possibilities. So on this Father’s Day, I looked within myself and began a revitalization of my commitment as a father. I hope that all fathers out there did the same in their own way. Salutations to all Fathers past and present!

 *This message has been Written Against Cultural Stagnation. Thank You for your time. (AP)

Anthony Pearson

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