Poetry & Prose

Black Art Today! dedicates this page to our artist that express the experiences of the people of the African Diaspora through Poetry and Prose:

  • Poetry  po·​et·​ry | \ ˈpō-ə-trē  that evokes a concentrated imaginative awareness of experience or a specific emotional response through language chosen and arranged for its meaning, sound, and rhythm.  
  •  Prose /prōz/ -  a literary medium distinguished from poetry especially by its greater irregularity and variety of rhythm and its closer correspondence to the patterns of everyday speech 

Billie Kingston

About the Artist

My name is Ms. Billie Kingston and I started writing poetry as a child growing up in the Midwest state of Illinois. Writing poetry is an outlet that allows me to express a lot of what was felt and experienced that has been internalized. It is a gift from God to be shared with the world to encourage, enlighten, to experience a different perspective and challenge all to think  outside of this box called life. Poems written will evoke varied emotions, give spiritual revelation and insight, stir up the fight within, make one want to pray, reflect, survive and thrive. That is the intent behind the words of every poem written..... to make you think.




Malcolm, Malcolm where did you go? In and out so quick didn’t get the chance to really know.

 Why you were murdered by the very man you revered. Who is the real enemy here? 

The inwardly fake or the outwardly sincere. Both lead to the destruction of men. For what we cannot control we condemn. Malcolm was one who you could not buy. He went against the grain, so he had to die.

The people who killed him then asked why? Just because he dared to defy. Not just the white but also the black lie.

 One man who held to much power for some, one who would not yield or succumb. He finally saw the true light and was trying to make it right. When he was assassinated in the night.  

In front of his wife and children and for all to see. You tell me how can this continue to be.

Malcolm died for what he was beginning to see when he looked at faces like you and me. 

That a man’s true enemy is a man turned within himself. Leading to self-annihilation of a nation.

By Billie Kingston

 All poems are copyright protected 



I was running a one-way race, no looking back had to keep the pace. 

Just as I thought I was well ahead. A brick wall was dead ahead, no way around this massive construction. It was meant to stop me total destruction. 

Determined to make it to the finish, this brick wall I had to diminish.

 Too often when there is a wall, one doesn’t face it instead they fall. 

Some don’t have the courage to press, instead create a bigger mess.

You need to go through the wall break it piece by piece it must fall. 

No wall is ever too tall to keep you from heeding the call.

There are many obstacles in life today, you can stay and fight or give up and walk away. 

Whatever you do must be sure, of the sacrifice you must endure. 

In order to begin you must inwardly know that will win. 

For there is only one prize one call, except the challenge, breakdown the wall.

By Billie Kingston

All poems are copyright protected



Racism, we wear it like Dixie flags, even in 1999 a black man behind a car was still dragged. 

What will it take for a balance to finally be? Freedom means nothing when we continue to disagree, about the very thing we pretend not to see. 

What is the underlying agenda here? To continue to promote panic and instill fear? 

In this highly heated political systematical debate, we verbalize love, yet our actions promote hate.

Corruption, collusion, everything in a state of confusion. Everybody talking, yet no real concrete solution. 

Race war on the brink, this ships charade is about to sink. Too many hidden agenda, no time to think, about to explode based on political link.

Talking American dream, yet daily perpetuation the lie. The injustices are plentiful, yet no revolutionary outcry. 

Alleged home of the free, land of the brave, in the 21st century minorities still treated like slaves.

A token here, a token there, affirmative action on the decrease, minorities must be more aware.

It takes more than a pacified adoption of civil rights. The fire is out, and we have lost our once wet appetites. To quench the thirst of racism blinded by false heights.

The challenge before us all is to regain a level plain. If united we stand strong and divided we fall, let us each start over, commit and heed Jesus call.

Finally realizing we are in this plight together one and all. Are you willing, ready and able to take a firm stand to help bring equality full circle in this land?

By Billie Kingston


All poems are copyright protected



L.A. a city in silence, exploded suddenly in violence. Responding to a damaging decision, the only recourse is race collision. 

In the system there is no reliance, only frustration no real compliance. Hit hard by the 4-man acquittal, adding more salt to the wound of the already belittled.

The jury stated it was the only course, yet it only served to continue to endorse. The original message and intent of the source. That what happened is right no need for remorse.


This action set the stage, for outward reflection of inner rage. Compton had its own induction, until the system brought about this eruption, now you wonder why all this destruction. 

The jury is in utter disbelief, to think their verdict could cause so much grief. 

But they would have to be blind, to their own prejudice in mind. For the outcome was already set, before the facts were even presented yet. 

Who really is to blame, for the venting of violence which many lives it did claim? When you constantly reject because of skin color which is permanently worn. How can you expect people to give you respect because of your uniform?

How can people truly monitor a system, that constantly dictates to them as victims?

How are people really a vital part of society, when they are not perceived as a priority?

How even in cases of emergency, they are not considered a 911 urgency. 

Those who continue to talk peace yet plan for war. How can you continue to ignore, the very injustices you say you abhor?

You must restore for the people will take no more of your hardcore bulls**t. Act or be prepared to be attacked. Right where you are you can count on that. 

By Billie Kingston


All poems are copyright protected


Impression of reading the book "Black Boy" by Richard Wright


Black child will you ever be a man, tortured in the south can you stand. 

Black child yearning to be free, to be the man you should be.

Black child you are told you’ll never grow, your put on a plantation with a rake and hoe.

Black child you are told you are dumb, but hope is not so bleak you can’t overcome.

Black child roaming this lost land, do you believe you will ever be in command?

Black child always seems to be in need, told to follow say you don’t know how to lead.

Black child your life seems so bleak, you search the earth over for the peace you seek.

Black child your labor is in demand, they don’t want to pay you instead want to spit in your hand.

Black child they tell you where to go, how to live, never to take but only to give.

Black child once whipped so hard, given no consideration no regard.

Black child because you dare to reach out for knowledge, hand slapped back only position to teach barred from college.

Black child you wish they would ease the pressure, but you won’t give up your pursuit ignore the threat of being maimed on a stretcher.

Black child whatever you go after, don’t give up on account of scorn and laughter.

Black child slapped across the face, because you stepped out of your so said place.

Black child whatever goals you seek, do with finesse and it will be unique.

By Billie Kingston


All poems are copyright protected