Would you read an old poem that came from an old rant?

Its title: Little Changes





Ain't it a shame that anyone died


For a thing called 'freedom'


When freedom was a lie?


Old Abe wrote a paper


That conscience made him sign,


';All men are equal';


But it was a great big lie.


A hundred years later


On a white man's bus


A woman took a seat


Reserved just for us.


What Lincoln said


Had been 'qualified'


'Equal but Separate'


Had nullified


Those noble words


As a great big lie.


In World War Two


They fought and they died


For a thing called 'Freedom'


But it was nothin' but a lie.


Down in the south


The black man cried


Cause the nation didn't care


When 'his' children died.


';Open your mouth,


Get uppity with me,


And we'll hang by the neck


From a magnolia tree!';


And ain't it a shame


That anyone died


For a thing called 'Freedom'


When it was nothin' but a lie?


A dozen years later


The second war done


Baby boomer children


Could play and run


And the dead from the war


Were turnin' to dust


And our money all said,


';In God We Trust';


And ain't it a shame


Those poor boys died


For a thing called 'freedom'


When it was nothin' but a lie?


God created people


And they build the ladders


The social kind


Are all that matter


And Rosa took a seat


On the bottom rung


And in the South's mighty roar


More Blacks were hung!


Churches were bombed


And Black babies died


Cause Rosa looked a white man


Straight in the eye!


';All Black children, run and play


Study if you want,


But stay outta the way!


This is the South


And we are the Whites


And there's no such thing


As Civil Rights!';


';So mix it up, just not with us,


And take your seat in the back


Of the White Man's bus!';


Old Black men were pelted with rocks


As Freedom Marchers marched


Down city blocks


Then Martin, Malcom and Medgar, too


Were all shot dead before it was through.


And crosses were burned


In the middle of the night


And the whole South glowed


With a great orange light.


And ain't it a shame that anyone died


For a thing called 'freedom'


When it was nothin' but a lie?


And the superior North


Pretended to know


How the South could change


The status quo.


';Desegregate and educate!';


';All children are the same!';


';Caring about their color


Was a doggone shame!


Our children, all together


Should learn and laugh and play,


And when the school day's done


Go their separate way!


Our Negroes don't mind,


Why, they never cared before


That they can't live


In the house next door.


It's about property values


And other trends,


Why some of those people


Are our best friends!


Treat Negroes the way we do,


And they won't make a fuss.';


(Though our neighborhoods


Are like the White man's bus.)


Twenty years later


They said it's settling down


Baby boomer children


Havin' children of their own


Joining Daddy's clubs


Where some things never change


Getting in depending


On your last name.


That great gift of Liberty


Given those in the war


Didn't extend


To the Country Club's door.


';You Jewish folks,


You're just not our kind.';


(And your freedom in America


Is only in your mind.)


Same rule applied


(And isn't it a sin?)


If they didn't care for


The color of your skin.


And ain't it a shame


Those poor boys died


For a thing called 'freedom'


When freedom was a lie?


It's been fifty years


Since the second World War


And we are a little better


Then we were before.


Some even claim we're All free


No matter what color you happen to be.


But say what you think


Express your mind


And the morning after


You're liable to find


That someone came


Like a thief in the night


And there's a great cross burning


With a great orange light


And you'll hear the words


That someone said before


Echoing down decades


Of a vile corridor


';Open you mouth


Get uppity with me,


And we'll hang you by the neck


From a magnolia tree!';


Just take it as a warning


Cause you won't be hung


You've only been knocked


Off the ladder's bottom rung.


And ain't it a shame that anyone died


For a thing called 'freedom'


When freedom is a lie?


';Say what you think,


If it agrees with Me!


then all God's children


Will truly be free.';


Freedom of speech


Has been 'qualified'


And the ones that died


Duly nullified.


Ain't it a shame


They died for me


Beliving in a myth


Called 'Liberty'?


So I'll sit at the table


With the meek and the poor


The cast-outs, tax-collectors,


The lepers and the Lord.


Ain't it a shame He died for me?


But at least with Him,


I'm truly free.Would you read an old poem that came from an old rant?
EXCELLENT, Excellent, writing. The flow was perfect, the story told is told perfectly. This writing should be required reading in every school, and church, in the country. I love the ending. As a Christian, and true believer, your ending is very inspiring. Thank you for sharing this, Bobby's Girl, I truly enjoyed reading this. God bless you.Would you read an old poem that came from an old rant?
I really love this one Bobbys' Girl. It speaks volumes.
Sounds too much like an inaccurate history book.


Things happened, but not only in the south, the south simply had bigger press. Many Black people I knew personally went north to chicago, and detroit, looking for a better life. Most came back after a few months, saying it was worse up there. Things are changing, maybe not at the rate we would like to see, and maybe at a faster than others would like to see, but if you really want to see racism die fast, you put a white soldier and a black soldier together in a vietnamese jungle, fighting for their lives, when each must depend on the other to stay alive, and they come out of it closer than siblings, and the skin color doesn't matter. And to be truly free, we must die. Gives us something to look forward to.
Wow. That is long. 175 lines is a lot. There is a lot of good stuff in there, but it is very hard to read because of the huge number of short lines that are not complete thoughts in themselves.


The first thing I would do is combine lines into longer ones of 10 or so syllables, then try to fashion them into four line stanzas and see what is there.


I think you could get a strong poem out of this consolidation and some polishing.
very patriotic. Great ';epic'; poetry. Your version of History in a nutshell. I agree with Shan it needs separation with a suggestion of the refrain ';For a thing called 'Freedom' When it was nothin' but a lie?'; and its variations, as the last line of each stanza. Just a sugg. Meaty!
This is strong and in a voice that makes it strong. I would change little, just work on flow more. Reading aloud will give you those clues. Your voice is unique, some may not like, but it's a voice that makes people take notice. My compliments.