Author Archives: Sean King
Letter To My Brothers
Brothers
Listen when I speak to you
It is time for you to open your eyes
Don’t fall into the man’s sinister trap
Don’t mess around with the rest of your life
Brothers
Listen when I speak to you
I will tell you this time and time again
You were meant to live the life of Kings
Do not waste life rotting away in the Pen
Brothers
Listen when I speak to you
I feel I must let you know
Learn from the fallacies of Mr. Simpson’s ways
Brothers
Let them white women go
Brothers
Listen when I speak to you
I know your life is filled with hurt and pain
But the only way to find true happiness
Is to free your mind from the holds of the shackles
Brothers
Break free of those chains
Brothers
Listen when I speak to you
I know growing up in this country has left you
scarred
But when you start killing your own family
Brothers
You have absolutely gone too far
Brothers
Listen when I speak to you
Why are you robbing and stealing to earn respect
Power does not come from crooked cash
True power is derived from the intellect
Brothers
Listen when I speak to you
I said I would tell you this again and again
You were meant to live the life of Kings
The life of Royalty
Not as some laboratory experiment
Rotting away in a maximum security Pen
Brothers
Listen when I speak to you
It is time for a change
and I know you can
Help your daughters develop into beautiful women
Raise your son to become a resolute
Strong Black Man
Brothers
Listen when I speak to you
Wake up
Open your eyes
Divided we will be eliminated from the earth
Together
We can make a stand
Together
We will rise
Brothers
Listen, when I speak to you..
Graveside Reflections
Today, I spent the afternoon visiting gravesides and conversing with my loved ones. It’s been years, and in the case of my dad, it’s the first time I’ve visited his graveside since he passed away. I’ve never been fan of cemeteries; but as I’ve gotten older, my desire to come to this peaceful place, to converse, and to meditate has grown. Today it lifted my spirits and brought joy to my heart.
Today I thanked my grandma Lindsey for everything she is and for encouraging me to write and speak my truth. She always used to say; “those” people aren’t going to like what you have to say, but it’s the truth so keep saying it. Who knows what I would be today if it wasn’t for her words.
Today I thanked my grandma Smith, for the walks, the love, the patience, and for being a part of all of my early childhood memories before she got Alzheimer’s. In life and now she will always be my angel.
Today I sat down with my dad and thanked him for doing the best he could to be there for me. At times you were my superhero, at other times our relationship was rocky; no matter; today it’s all love and all thanks. As someone who grew up in a racist environment (like you) with numerous obstacles trying to beat me down; I gained an understanding you, of your imperfections, and of mine. We walk together inside the belly of the beast. We will walk together in heaven when my fight here is done.
Today I sat down with my big sister; we’ve been through it all together, fought, talked about our fears, and when you told me you were done with that all of that treatment that was killing you; I understood. You wanted to live before going home. I was sad to say goodbye, but I know you are watching over us, giving a side-eye to the devil and all of his cronies that are trying to knock us off track, and creating miracles on our path. You are a true wonder woman.
Today I got on my knees and talked to my mom. I thanked her for being our backbone, provider, protector, and rock through the tough times. She is as beautiful and intelligent as they come; a straight shooting fire-cracker that would never be walked over; and if you tried her you best be ready. We still talk daily and I respect the fact that she didn’t want to be buried or to put her name on a piece of stone. You are an agent of God and humble enough not to need recognition for your work.
All of you and so many more are with me; lifting, guiding, helping me make a positive contribution. On this and every other day I give thanks and love… ~ Sean King
Slam Poet
He stepped to the stage
Stood motionless;
Visibly uncomfortable under the bright lights
Feeling the heat from the hundreds of watchful eyes
Surveying his naked soul
Watching his every movement
The room overflowed with anxious energy
As they waited for him to start
He took two steps back
One long, deliberate deep breath
Paused; and then went in
Flawless enunciation
Fast paced cadence
Haunting words hurled at the audience
Like scavengers gnawing,
Pecking dead meat off his soulless skeleton
You could see his skin slowly peeling away
With each word that was gobbled
Consumed by their insatiable thirst for more
Peck
Gut wrenching stories of
Excreting blood
After being painfully penetrated
By blood related penises
Peck
Harrowing stories
Of being the son of a crack addict mama
Who used her lips to suck
Opened her legs to fuck
For money to feed her addiction
She never thought about feeding him;
Crack addicts don’t think
Peck
A painful grimace
As he took us down memory lane
To that dark night where the errant bullets
Singing from the dark sedan
Left his brother in his arms
Motionless
Breathless
Peck
Fire
Spit flying from his mouth
Arms flailing
You could feel the handcuffs get tighter
You could feel the baton smash into his back
Smash across his shoulders
Just before his body convulsed
As the pigs sent shockwaves
Through his nervous system
Peck
2 minutes, 30 seconds
Hurling haunting words of ghetto hopelessness
Broken poverty
Police brutality
Drive-by get low moments
Where he was uncertain if he would live
He wasn’t certain if he wanted to live
Cursing at his self;
“Why do I keep getting up when I don’t even want to live”
Why does he want to live?
Peck
2 minutes, 50 seconds
He looked at the audience
…put his hands on his head…
…paused…
…cried… the coach always told him to cry…
…bowed his head as he took a knee…
…begged…
“Please God, Can I Live”
Peck
The crowd erupted
Spontaneous applause
Standing ovation
Stumping their feet
Screaming in amazement
As the cards turned around one by one
10
10
10
10
10
Flawless
No calculation necessary
No need to deliberate
Crown him
Call him the greatest
Thank him for entertaining you
With those beautiful stories of despair
Crowd his space to tell him
How great his poetry is
How great he is
Snapchat him
Tag him on IG
DM him to ask him if he will perform
At your upcoming showcase
Promote him
Do everything
Do everything
Do every single thing except ask him
If he is okay
Peck
Long after the crowds have dispersed
The bright lights of the stage have gone down
The people have stopped crowding his space
Their gaze is no longer upon him
He stands alone
Empty
Feeling like a zero
…and still asking the question…
“Why do I keep getting up when I don’t even want to live?”
Peck
They loved his words
They loved his delivery
They loved his performance
Peck
He gave it all to the judges
To the crowd, and
Forgot to keep any for his own healing
Peck
They never asked if he was okay?
Peck
The empty soul of a slam champion
Who healed souls
While dying a little bit with each word he spit
Peck
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