One Hundred Percent of Nothin’s–Still Nothing

Right. Write. Rite. Richard Wright.
Was a Black Boy.
Mother made him fight.
When he came home crying
they beat him up that day.

White woman.
Soft hands, soft feet, thin skin.
White as a sheet.
Has never even seen a fight.
Must be her eye sight. Site. Sigh h h t.

He faces
family, religion, communism, racism, poverty,
meritocracy, stereotypes, critics, hunger, elements, the
CIA and the FBI
he fights for rights with write

She faces
a wall, a clock, herself
her privilege.  She battles only her fear
of nothing
in a fight for the right to write

His battle won
and the right will say the war too, but
if he were here
Wright would write what she knows 
about their wrong

there is a vibration in the peace
where the men in this land promised
to right the wrongs
where there is still no stillness from the drums
of war

He gave one hundred percent and won
They gave one hundred percent of none
She writes of her heart, not a percent
and rights no wrongs in the new silent


Response to 2012 PAD Challenge Day 4 on Poetic Asides: I’m behind on these prompts, but I’ll pick and choose them as I see them. 


5 thoughts on “One Hundred Percent of Nothin’s–Still Nothing


    Jesus on the cross
    taking all your sins away,
    hanging there alone?
    God, his father and now mine?
    Doing nothing it appears.

    Virgins in Heaven?
    Sankt Peter guarding the door,
    angels all around
    the day you’ll be there knocking,
    saying you did nothing wrong.

    This fear of nothing,
    thi unimaginable,
    that we will vanish
    completely the day we die
    made us listen to rubbish.


    • Aha!  And there it is.  Finally, it seems I have given you an avenue to say something you’ve needed to say in a public way for a long time.  Well done!


  2. Okay, now it showed so I try again – the reply is:

    Yesterday I watched a documentary about Christianity and here a professor says that he’s “a candid friend of Christianity” and I guess that I am, too.

    For instance Easter in a Christian sense will always be difficult to celebrate for me. What happened to Jesus – no one will ever be able to convince me that the way he died took away my sins. The only thing I hear is pain – fear – violence – cowardly behavior. And every year for years I felt this sorrow of mine and all the time it starts with: why didn’t anybody pull him down from that cross?

    But the parables built my life. They were guidelines for civilization and also for me. So what do I believe in? I believe in the parable of the good Samaritan for instance but I believe in all the parables. They are wonderful guidelines.

    So it’s true that sometimes I don’t understand American Christianity – for instance when someone seriously on Facebook can’t wait to die to come up to Heaven – how did it come to that in America?


    • Somehow I can’t believe it is only in America that people are waiting to die to go to Heaven.    What I would like to see is more people coming together than dividing.  More people understanding that accepting what others believe is an okay thing to do rather than killing them or hating them or even judging them for believing differently…  A time when all religions believe that harming another person is unacceptable.


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