Poet, Author, Filmmaker, Philanthropist, Activist

Poet, Author, Filmmaker, Philanthropist, Activist

Poet, Author, Filmmaker, Philanthropist, ActivistPoet, Author, Filmmaker, Philanthropist, Activist

Latest Poems

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Recent Selections

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The Struggle Continues

small Black town,
white police handlers –
open-air assassinations
the growing new standard...
 

Black President,
"post-racial" nation –
peaceful Black protestors,
martial intimidation...

gated communities wondering
"What's all the outrage for?"
400-year-old-movies
we've already seen before:
 

Amadou, Sean Bell, Eric Garner, Ramarley,
the Danziger after Katrina, James Powell, Kimani,
Malcolm Ferguson, little Nick Heyward –
script’s always the same,
ending never changes...
 

Desperate calls for peace
amid martial law decrees –
while young Black lives are
devalued by degrees... 

  

© 2014 Marcus Harris


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Déjà vu (For Syria)

babies gassed...for gas
refugees out, pipeline in
war machine rolls on
 

© 2017 Marcus Harris

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The Hidden Place

I’m sure

your kisses were crafted

somewhere in the deep,

by hands that yearned to ensure

every pleasure on this planet

comes in the shape of

your mouth,


the same hands that sweetened

the aroma that surrounds you

and illuminated

the windows to your soul,


and


I’m convinced

in that same hidden place in the Earth

lie all the secrets to

your taste,

your fragrance,

the light behind

your eyes,

the music of

your walk -


in all its quiet uncertainty,

like

a butterfly’s first flight from

its cocoon

or

a newborn’s first gaze upon

a large, hectic world -


the same music in which floats the

fervent melody

of all your

questions yet unanswered,

hopes yet unfulfilled,

promises whispered in desperate aspiration,


and


one day,

when you’re ready,

I’ll take your hand,

and we can seek that hidden place

together.


© 2020 Marcus Harris

From #snapshot

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If I Were A Poet

my grandma
used to talk about
when she met
my granddaddy -
what she said,
I forget,
but I'll always remember
the glow on her face when
she spoke...
 

I imagine
I looked the same
when you winked at me
in homeroom...

and if I were a poet,
I'd know just the words
to describe the feeling
of
your lips on mine
or
your fingers in my palm
and
maybe I could express
the way my heart
used to flutter
whenever I got a text from
you...
 

I guess
I could also explain
how it felt
when I saw
you
at the mall with
him... 


© 2017 Marcus Harris


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Brock Turner/Cory Batey

I see
she
wears a blindfold,
holds a balance and sword,
is supposed to judge everyone
the same -
 

but
 

I know
those
of light complexion
get acquitted by perception,
while those of darker shade lose that
rigged game. 


© 2017 Marcus Harris


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Astronomy

We used to
reach for the stars,
now we just
reach for our phones,
so distracted,
so many reasons
to look down,
drifting, floating through
cyberspace,
lured by
hypnotic flashes of
artificial light...
 

When
I first saw you,
I felt like an astronomer
who discovered some
brand new star –

but
truth is,
stars aren’t new,
they’ve been around for
millions of years,
their light always shining,
seen everywhere else in
the universe –
 

truth is,
they’re just
new to us,
reasons
to stop floating, drifting –
 

like you,
reasons
to look up again. 


© 2017 Marcus Harris