UNEQUAL PROTECTION

by Elbert Tavon Briggs

Evelyn Glover-Jennings holds a picture of her cousin Bettie Jones, 55, who was shot by the Chicago police on Saturday. Credit Joshua Lott for The New York Times, Dec. 26, 2015

and now 19 years-young

Quintonio LeGrier

his father and mother

loved and held him dear

outreach police call

to save their Son from stress

now We Chicago

are back in this mess

father tried to save his Son

from problems mental

why did police shoot

and kill him like a criminal

as a victim He had No Gun

another mother unarmed

helping that family

She was gun down like a criminal

8 shots fired during the Holiday Season

one for Her

seven for Him

father tried to save his Son

from problems mental

why did Chicago police

gun Him down like a criminal

first reactions from emergency responders

under oath to serve and protect

yet some ponder why my People

hesitate for law’s conflict resolution

when far too often

the solution

the solution

for stressed out Black college student with honors

is for the Family to bury him without honor

that 55 years-old Mother of 5

should still be alive

from a police call to serve and protect

my pen has to reflect

where was the Family conflict mediator

where were the non-lethal options like tasers

guess that’s for grand jury to question later

equal protection under what law

U.S. Supreme Court implies

Black citizens need access

to justice on a slower track

not Great Scott

legal rebirth of Dred Scott

this poem will not issue a retraction

maybe this is the face

of U.S.A. affirmative actions

on this morning

Chicago once again is mourning

Elbert Tavon Briggs was born 1952 in Minneapolis, Minnesota, raised in Omaha, Nebraska. Elbert studied at Northeastern Illinois University and currently resides in Chicago, Illinois.. Currently creating with the Randolph Street Poets at the Chicago Cultural Center and workshopping with Poets & Patrons. This poem reflects Briggs's lifelong commitment to incorporate poetry, music, art, dance, and drama, to give voice to the voiceless. Elbert graduated from Arizona State University and served two years in AmeriCorps fighting the war on poverty in the Lower Delta.

DEAR SANDRA FROM DA RED LINE L

by Elbert Tavon Briggs





conversation
front page
u.s.a. nation
minor traffic violation

small town texas justice
does not include us
the lost children from Africa
successful was She

career moved her
hired by HBCU
prairie view of life
celebrating highway drive

back to not so sweet home
chicago
lane change should not yield Life
metro chi-town

careless line crossed
close encounter
yet She was not counted as Human
European blue heritage said

“get out of
the car
or
i will light you up”

two bodies
vanished from
patrol dash cam view
Louis sang, “why must i be so black and blue”

five hundred dollars bail for
escalated minor traffic violation
now criminal justice experts
defend grand jury decision

no acquiescence to
depression from caged
could have been released
on Her own recognizance

with stamped instructions
“pay the fine”
via certified mail
yet She was not fine

as if Chile
should have been happy
getting stopped
and arrested

still two bodies vanished
from dash cam view
steel bars closed in
on Her humanity

found hanging
from plastic bagged-lynch rope
are we suppose to cope
in concrete cage

still most can’t grasp
Sandra’s historic rage

summer of 2015
i rallied before a march
with Her Mother
and so many others
Professor Maya
this caged bird
can’t sing no more


Elbert Tavon Briggs was born 1952 in Minneapolis, Minnesota, raised in Omaha, Nebraska. Elbert studied at Northeastern Illinois University and currently resides in Chicago, Illinois. Currently creating with the Randolph Street Poets @ the Chicago Cultural Center and workshopping with Poets & Patrons. This poem reflects my lifelong commitment to incorporate poetry, music, art, dance, and drama, to give voice to the voiceless. Elbert graduated from Arizona State University and served two years in AmeriCorps fighting the war on poverty in the Lower Delta.

3/5 OF ALL OTHER BEATS AND RHYTHMS: 2006 TO 2015

by Elbert Tavon Briggs

Black Line-Carved Djembe Drum

The beats make me think

The drums keep beating

That same Ole beat again

moved Mrs. Mamie Till-Mobley’s

14-year-old son to the Tallahatchie River

Rhythms moved the strange fruit

Rhythms bruised the strange fruit

We have to find some space on dry land

from sea to not so shiny

Those beats moved

Derrion Albert from Fenger High School

in blood all over cyberspace

Medgar was removed from earth forever

Malcolm X was killed teaching

Dr. King met the same fate preaching

Fred Hampton was shot in a room while sleeping

The beats make me think

The drums keep beating

Those beats moved Addie Mae, Denise, Carole, and Cynthia from

Birmingham 16th Street Baptist Church

into heavenly spaces, and I had to face this

they were children just like me

Rhythms moved the strange fruit.

Rhythms bruised the strange fruit.

The drums were beating on March 1, 2012,

same ole view

the rhythms were not new

that moved 17-year-old Chris Wormely out of high school

into thin air

while talking to the principled

The drums were beating

Spring and Summer of 2006

The drums were beating for

Siretha “Nugget: White – 10-years old

Tsarina Powel – 12-years old

Starkesia Reed – 14-years old

Latasha Harlins – 15 – years old

Ryann Brown – 18-years old

The beats make me think

The drums keep beating

2007, 16-year-old Blair Holt

became the teacher of us all

made his friend fall

his young body was the lifesaving shield

Rhythms moved the strange fruit

Rhythms bruised the strange fruit

drums were beating on Sunday August 7, 2011

when 6 year-old Arianna Gibson

missed church and went straight to heaven

One year later

Spring gets leaped by Chicago’s coldest winter ever

March 17, 2012

around 3:40 p.m.

6 year-old Aliyah Shell was gun down

in Little Village not Wounded Knee

Little Aliyah was killed in urban combat

in a war she did not enlist to fight

Oh say can you see the last weekend of Winter

Yaw don’t know the Seasons

that’s the reason at least 10 died

at least 40 were wounded

yes there were some knees

The beats make me think

The drums keep beating

Sunday February 26, 2012

a mother and father’s lives became twisted hells

when their son, Trayvon Martin’s heart stopped beating

The beats make me think

The drums keep beating

Winter 2013

fifteen year-old   marched

D.C Presidential Inauguration Celebration

Then Hadiya and college prep high school classmates

sought sanctuary from rain, test-ings

and career future prepping

unaware that they were stepping

into the undeclared war

rattled and ran

but Hadiya fell from shots fired

her hopes and future expired

Rhythms moved the strange fruit

Rhythms bruised the strange fruit

February 9, 2013

I heard Mothers cry

drowned in tears

as my eyes saw her young years

like Mrs. Mamie Till-Mobley’s son Emmett

her presence in that casket

represented too many lost young lives and dreams

The beats make me think

the drums keep beating

Winter of 2013

got even colder

as the streets became bolder

and took six Sons from two Mothers

The beats make me think

the drums keep beating

Rhythms moved the strange fruit

Rhythms bruised the strange fruit

Winter 2014

the drums were beating in Omaha, Nebraska

for 5 year –old Peyton Benson

snatched from the planet while eating cereal

No this is not a movie serial

and this it not a  dream sequel

5 year-old Peyton was my childhood friend’s Granddaughter

The beats make me think

the drums keep beating

Chicago September 2015

can't  escape

this un-dream

almost my birthday

shots fired

shots fired

shots fired

Grandmother

Daughter

Child in Mother’s womb

erased and human lives expired

11 months young baby

escaped with a gunshot wound

We have to find some space on dry land

from sea to not so shiny

The beats make me think

the drums keep beating

The beats make me think

the drums keep beating

That same Ole beat again

moved Mrs. Mamie Till-Mobley’s

14-year-old son to the Tallahatchie River

Rhythms moved the strange fruit

Rhythms bruised the strange fruit

BEAT THE DRUMS FOR ALL OF THEM!!!

Elbert Tavon Briggs was born 1952 in Minneapolis, Minnesota, raised in Omaha, Nebraska. Elbert studied at Northeastern Illinois University and currently resides in Chicago, Illinois.. Currently creating with the Randolph Street Poets @ the Chicago Cultural Center and workshopping with Poets & Patrons. This poem reflects his lifelong commitment to incorporate poetry, music, art, dance, and drama, to give voice to the voiceless. Elbert graduated from Arizona State University and served two years in AmeriCorps fighting the war on poverty in the Lower Delta.

UP IN ARMS ABOUT A WORD

by Elbert Tavon Briggs

Gun violence in Chicago over the Fourth of July weekend left 10 dead and 53 others wounded across the city. Amari Brown [pictured above], a 7-year-old boy on Chicago’s West Side, was the youngest of the fatalities. Amari had spent the day celebrating with family and riding his scooter up and down the block where he lived with his grandmother and several other relatives in Humboldt Park. Just before midnight, a gunman opened fire outside a relative's home where Amari and other children were playing, hitting both the 7-year-old and a 26-year-old woman in the chest. —The Huffington Post, July 5, 2015

‘There have been more than 200 killings so far this year in Chicago — up about 15 percent. And there have been more than 1,000 shootings. More Americans have been murdered in Chicago in the last 15 years than have died in Iraq and Afghanistan combined. Much of the mayhem happens on the South and West sides. The black and brown sides. What they call Chiraq. In the racial mathematics of America, a black person is six times more likely to be the victim of a murder than a white person, and eight times more likely to be the murderer.’ —Vice News, June 25, 2015 

‘”Chi-raq" has been shrouded in mystery since news of the project first leaked in the spring, but a visit to director Spike Lee's film set this week revealed that much speculation about the movie — sparked largely by the title itself — has been off the mark. . . .Before a single frame was shot, the title became instantly polarizing — the term has been around for a few years now, equating gun violence in the city with that of the war zone in Iraq — and curiosity has been intense.’ —Chicago Tribune, July 9, 2015

                                                         friday to saturday

the end was not week

20 shot and wounded

one shot dead in ChiRaq

may have been another month

 even an 80 something years young person

still thirstin for life

 caught in the eye of  multi-caliber storms

while multi-colored talking heads

curse a word

curse a word

spring 2015

 a father placed his tiny son

in front of corner store mural

of the whole world

painted by teenage vato

young asphalt Picasso

pointed concrete brush towards graffiti verse

tell your story to the world

but the end was not week

urban street life painted

another view

father shielded son with hopes

january to june 2015

the end was not week

1050 shot and wounded

 in ChiRaq

absurd blaming urban warfare on a word

mother’s scream

“not my baby”

“not my baby”

                                                          concrete asphalt actions

speak louder than words

.

children, teachers, parents and grandparents

getting shot down too

can’t shield violence with silence

urban combat is more than gang related

violence has many relatives

                                               while multi-colored talking heads

curse a word

curse a word

                                                           while watching

                                                             saturday morning cartoons

before noon

taught  grandson to stop-drop and roll

so the body count bell would not toll

July 4th 2015

53 shot

10 killed

7 year-old Amari Brown’s

tiny voice

is stilled

                                                                      in ChiRaq

Author's note: This poem reflects my lifelong commitment to incorporate poetry, music, art, dance, and drama, to give voice to the voiceless. 


Elbert Tavon Briggs was born 1952 in Minneapolis, Minnesota,  raised in Omaha, Nebraska. Elbert studied at Northeastern Illinois University and currently resides in Chicago, Illinois. Currently creating with the Randolph Street Poets @ the Chicago Cultural Center and workshopping with Poets & Patrons. Elbert graduated from Arizona State University and served two years in AmeriCorps fighting the war on poverty in the Lower Delta.