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“Poet, Malcolm Jarell, author of Wakeupandthink! and Dreams of Yesterday, presents to us a bold and daring message in his newest release, title, SpeakNow!  This new collection sheds light on th many pressures and influences that plague our youth.

Poems such as Uprising! and Generation Now encourage the young to reach toward a higher goal, and to speak out against the diminishing standards of our society. Some of Jarell’s other poetic works found in his release such as Young Black Blues and Adolescence Lost expose the daily thoughts of unheard youth–giving readers a hard-hitting street-level view.

Jarell urges us, through these powerful words—to Speak Up, Speak Out, and Speak Now!”

Who Shall Speak for Him?

Children, the days of life
are as seeds to be planted
wisely; in truth and in deed.

There will be no glory for
the young one slain, hearing
Destruction calling his name.

Decision would be the cause
to blame, gone from existence
like smoke departing a flame.

These, veiled in mourning, shall
cease their tears, and from their
minds will go the memory of his
years.

He who sows sparingly…

© Copyright 2015 Malcolm Jarell

Great Kings.

Part 1:
When a king passes in the street
Children cease their playing.
They hurry to catch a glimpse
And bless him with their smiles;
Warm and innocent to give
Him peace along the mile.

When a king is come,
People halt their busy work
And hasten to meet him.
They cast their coats in the way;
Their woven tapestries for
Him to walk upon as they
Honor him with pleasantries.

There, amidst the citadel,
They await his voice. From the
Lowest place he meets them
And beckons them near.
Sharing with them the wisdom
Of the Eternal Father, he removes
Their doubt, question, and fear.

Loved is he by those who revere him
Feared by those who reject him for
They are those who misunderstand him.

© 2015 Malcolm Jarell

The Times.

For Freddie Gray and Baltimore

They say the thinkers are crazy
and the dreamers have lost their minds.

I say we know truth and are
aware of the times.

Open minds seek solution in
amidst chaos while ignorance
enjoys company.

One seeking peace creates
peaceful situations while one
seeking drama diggeth a pit
and shall fall it.

Foolishness brings the world
to its knees.

Who would dare to be free?

 
© 2012 Malcolm Jarell

Young Black Blues.

The knot in my throat
        says I should be crying;
chokes so bad you
        would think I were dying.

While searching for
        peace amidst this despair
You would think I’d
        gone mad, screaming at the air.

Some believe I am wrong
        Still, I chase my dreams.
None of what they think
        is ever what it seems.

When folks see me coming
        they glare with such disdain.
I know they know no better
        so I smile to mask the pain.

For those who war after me,
        sorrow will be their gain if
tomorrow’s bulletin reads: Another,
        Young, Black, and Slain.

Song for the Old Ones by Maya Angelou

My fathers sit on benches
        their flesh counts every plank
        the slats leave dents of darkness
deep in their withered flanks.

They nod like broken candles
        all waxed and burnt profound
        they say “It’s understanding
That makes the world go round.”

There in those pleated faces
        I see the auction block
        the chains and slavery’s coffles
the whip and lash and stock.

My fathers speak in voices
        that shred my fact and sound
        they say “It’s our submission
that makes the world go round.”

They used the finest cunning
        their naked wits and wiles
        the lowly Uncle Tomming
and Aunt Jemimas’ smiles.

They’ve laughed to shield their crying
        then shuffled through their dreams
        and stepped ‘n’ fetched a country
to write the blues with screams.

I understand their meaning
        it could and did derive
        from living on the edge of death
They kept my race alive.

Portrait of a Rebel Poet.

Artwork by Dutch Artist Alexander Kok circa 2014.

Uprising.

(For Tray’Von, Eric, Michael, Ferguson, and all others oppressed.)

In this time of raging war
Let them hear an uproar.

Let them see the uprising;
Brothers and sisters joining,
Banding together increasing unity.

Let them see us guiding our
Children to their light that they
May inherit their destiny.

Let them see our strength
And be afraid, be forewarned
That fear no longer resides here,

That we’ve come a long journey
From darkness and will
Return no more.

No more will we bend
To social injustice or be
Blanketed in bigotry.

Let them hear the refusal.

We will not see another slain
Nor will we cry at the loss
Of one more name.

One more dream erased.

Let them understand Truth
And Righteousness must stand
All will be revealed due the
Master’s plan.

© 2014 Malcolm Jarell

History Yet Speaks.

Gather your young, here,
To the foot of my mountain
And I will show you those who
Have climbed before you.

Mothers, for long, have cried
Heavy and burdensome tears
Seeing their daughters and sons
Deprived of length of years.

Their hearts are empty,
Devoid, and increasingly sorrowful.

The dirge they sing springs up
From their ancestral souls, from
Mothers who mourned and wept
In the days of old.

History yet speaks.

Fix your attention on the
Silent war and ever-raging battle:
The genocide of our youth.

Where justice has failed,
A new struggle fueled by unrest
Quickly begins.

Rioters charge forth, their hands
Rolled in fists seeking to stake their claim
Searching for one to blame.

Others trudge on ignorant, blind,
And not listening as hatred deepens
And bullets continue whistling.

History yet speaks.

I have questioned your system
And have challenged your courage
Repeatedly. I have seen you cower
In fear of moving forward.

I have reminded you of horrors
Not long departed. Even the trees,
Though innocent, cry out for the helpless
ornaments left hanging and Swaying
from their heightened Branches.

Voices from Selma and Birmingham,
From the deep, dark, and muddy banks
Of the Mississippi River echo to you
Today, pleading you to remember and
Forget not their names.

And many names there were
Martyred and slain, carrying the banner
Though bloodied and stained,
Further beyond that racist shore.

History yet Speaks.