Ethel

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Ethel

Ethel

Melodies of the
OPPRESSED

by
Chris L. Butler
Chris L. Butler is a Black American-Dutch poet/essayist from West Philly living in the Greater Toronto-Hamilton Area. He is the author of 4 previous chapbooks: *Inside the Garden of Alchemy with DMX and Karl Marx* (Ghost City Press, 2025), *marchin' forward under the empire's blazing sun* (Ghost City Press, 2024), *Sacrilegious* (Fahmidan, 2021), and *BLERD: '80s BABY, '90s KID* (Daily Drunk, 2021). His poetry has been published by various magazines including *Canada Culture Days*, *The Pinch, Southern Florida Poetry Journal*, *Lucky Jefferson*, *Perhappened*, and more. His essays have been featured on *Medium*, *FlyPaper Lit, Afros in Tha City*, and *The Sprawl Alberta*. Chris is a 3x Pushcart Prize Nominee, and a 1x Best of the Net Nominee. He is committed to the collective liberation of all oppressed peoples. He is a proud member of Phi Beta Sigma Fraternity, Inc. and a graduate of the University of Houston-Downtown, and Xavier University.

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from Melodies of the Opressed
Progeny  

I feel the pain of my ancestors,
sewn deep within my roots
finely tied, like cornrows
a warrior’s hairdo. you call it fashion
I keep rubbing my eyes
thinking I can wake up from this nightmare
a tale of generational trauma
my American Horror Story
filled with villains on smartphones
no cut scenes, no Hollywood studios
death on camera. murderers. badges.
Black lives, vanishing in flashes
these struggles are pre-technology
pre-industry, pre-American equality
they go all the way back to the Middle Passage.
where we were greeted by owners, thieves, & assassins.
upon freedom they incarcerated us by the masses.
herding us with a fiery passion
across the nation from Philly to Calabasas
complete devastation. helicopter crashes
next up was a pandemic to match it
with America’s glass ceiling cracking the fastest
the heat is turned up, don’t you feel it blastin’?
in other words, we can’t let the moment pass us
cause society may revert to the ways of the ruthless
so when it comes to the movement, it’s like music
I’ll be a metronome, I’ll stay in tune with it
listen to the melody of our cries
feel our treble, the harmony of our spirit
we built America from ashes to brilliance
on cotton fields, from bread crumbs to billions
listen up. We are the progeny of the resilient.