I don't have the money to socialize with the upper class And the white ones won't have my poor black ass.
I awaken every morning hungry.
hungry for both knowledge and food. The stench of poverty fills my nose and I describe
every morning with one word: crude.
My stomach begins to rumble, but there will be no food cooked for me,
For my mother doesn’t return from her midnight rendezvous till about three.
Wearing yesterday’s clothes, I head on out to the school bus stop,
Eating a mustard sandwich while sipping on a stale pop.
An oppressed people realizing the nature of their oppression, and not being able to face it frontally, generally begin to fantasize and create a world
The history of cannabis is a tale deeply intertwined with various cultures, societies, and events throughout the ages. One such connection that remains lesser known
After the cessation of the progressives J.H Jackson began to fall into anonymity while King became the chief spokesman of race relations for Black America.
HA 
EN_US 
IG 