Bookmark and Share
Click to go to the home page.
Click to send us your comments and suggestions.
Click to learn about the publishers of and our mission.
Click to search for any word or phrase on our Website.
Click to sign up for an e-Mail notification only whenever we publish something new.
Click to remove your e-Mail address from our list immediately and permanently.
Click to read our pledge to never give or sell your e-Mail address to anyone.
Click to read our policy on re-prints and permissions.
Click for the demographics of the audience and our rates.
Click to view the patrons list and learn now to become a patron and support
Click to see job postings or post a job.
Click for links to Websites we recommend.
Click to see every cartoon we have published.
Click to read any past issue.
Click to read any think piece we have published.
Click to read any guest commentary we have published.
Click to view any of the art forms we have published.
The current issue is always free to everyone

Camden: Poetic Black Fusion By Poet Blackman Preach, Spoken Word Columnist (includes MP3 audio)

Click here to listen to Blackman Preach read this poem.


Camden residents

are dying a fast death

billed as the worst—

living in hell are families, media reports

but what’s getting priority, is not priority 

and the rumors, the rumors of the murder rate—

Is it really ten times the national average?

kids acquiring illegal weapons and hungry

with an appetite for torture

sick people demonstrate their intentions daily

they duct tape, toss a sheet over community members

& soak gasoline on families of color—they’re burned alive—


the terror that America is producing

from the rooftop

a Black sniper with a semi-automatic

pecks away at trespassers on their block

till’ somebody screams that trigger killed my baby—

defenseless & strapped in a car seat

driven by a bloody hysterical parent in a state of shock

the three year old dies,

painfully the mother cries

as the shooter didn’t know

he murdered his first borne

until word slithers back

to the perpetrator fronting to be the

killer confused

cause he actually think he’s the protector of  his hood

a new cry paralyze the hustler peddling to survive

& live—

with the breaking news for life

sick people demonstrate their intentions daily

as the violence extent out to the suburbs

the special enforcement are called to the ghetto—now

they charge after a couple of thousands families

were terrorized and murdered by black and brown hands

as white hands were tied up in Iraq

having nothing

to do

with the psychological burden

the marshal law goes into effect—to police



St Louis

the horrible news reaches international interest—

the feds and other agencies

are sent to control the environment

and bring order

to homes being run by overworked single mothers—

pimped by the system—dead or gone

it’s real

with no answers to the

increasing problems in America and it’s war on us

other cities will fall under siege

with more terror through

drugs, money and death

to float this failing economy that’s

going to drown worse than the people

on the Titanic

sick people through the vacuums of identities

demonstrate their intentions daily

with airborne viruses that’s cancerous and not curable

the thief wants you to believe

it’s not curable

I’ll be censoring my cuss words

& just

stretch my middle-finger with the blue dot to

the satellite vote

New Orleans residence did not get

sick people demonstrate daily

their intent to close many doors on community programs

forcing the children escaping terrorism at home

of the




step father’s—psychological trauma

the system reinforce white supremacy &

re-enslave the mentality—the scare deepen—

in public schools, colleges, churches, corporations,

anything that has paid interest to the sole controllers

built by the hands

of others—the blueprint remains in their archives

even though it was another’s intellectual property—we are paying

to be taxed and broke at the same time

there is no come up from the bottom down—

the low places of the pit

undeserved by any of God’s creation—

the sickness thickens


Satan has a huge band of little devils:

with a shorter window of time

he cannot alter time

but make more people sick through

Jazz, Blues, Gospel, R & B, and Hip hop



Jazz, Blues, Gospel, R & B and Hip-Hop.

The preceeding words are lyrics from the CD Bumpy Tymes

Click here to listen to Blackman Preach read this poem. Spoken Word Columnist, Poet Blackman Preach (Cedric T. Bolton), is a poet (spoken word artist) and producer, born in Pascagoula, Mississippi and raised in Paterson, New Jersey. Cedric received his Bachelor of Arts degree from Western Washington University and currently resides, with his wife, in Syracuse, New York.  He is the Founder of Poetic Black Fusion, a writers' workshop that provides access and opportunities to poets of African Ancestry living in Central New York.  He is also the co-founder of Voices Merging, a student-run poetry organization (spoken word) at the University of Minnesota that provides a social outlet for undergraduate students to develop as writers, network and express themselves on stage. He has been writing poetry for 14 years and is published in the Ethnic Student Center's Newsletter at Western Washington University, The Spokesman Recorder, and St. Cloud Times. Click here to contact Blackman Preach.



Your comments are always welcome.

e-Mail re-print notice

If you send us an e-Mail message we may publish all or part of it, unless you tell us it is not for publication. You may also request that we withhold your name.

Thank you very much for your readership.


May 1, 2008
Issue 275

is published every Thursday

Executive Editor:
Bill Fletcher, Jr.
Peter Gamble
Est. April 5, 2002
Printer Friendly Version in resizeable plain text format format
Cedille Records Sale