Unrecorded

The history of many of the lives in the past remains a mystery to us due to the way records were kept. It is written in the form of a dialectic poem much like Langston Hughes' Jess B. Simples.

They could never tell for sure 

Just which day I was born on.

That's on account of the sun just coming up.

Mama wasn't in no condition to know,

Whilst Daddy was plumb outa his mind.

There was no record of it.

 

They could never really say for sure

Just how we come to be in America.

That's 'cause we ain't never heard nobody

Who could try to tell us one way or 'nother.

We ain't found out yet.

Wasn't no clear record of it for us.

 

They held court for me,

For 'twas really court against me.

They sure had a record of it.

They gave my name and birthdate.

They sure had a record of it.

They even spoke about the origin of my species,

Giving an account 'bout where I comes from and all.

They must've had some kinda record of it.

Judge took from me the rest of my years.

That lady sitting in the middle of court there

She done made a record of it.

Mama wasn't in no condition to know,

Whilst Daddy went plumb outa his mind.

The newspaper printed a record of it all.

Author's Note

The dialectic/dialectical style poetry may include some grammatical issues. Please excuse