Prisoners Of Conscience Committee

Prisoners Of Conscience Committee
The Prisoners of Conscience Committee Founded by Chairman Fred Hampton, Jr. during the nine years he spent in prison in the 1990's.

Saturday, May 11, 2019

The Mother Ode

The Mother Ode’

You think I forgot? 

Well, I think not! 

From the Pyramids to the plantation 

Through the sharecropping and segregation. 

To the Ole’ Earth from her seed Yes, indeed you carried me. 

In Africa I rode your back On the plantation a potato sack. 

Whatever the case you held me tight. 

Kept me close those winter nights. (whisper) 

Matriarchs and Mothers and Queens and Nannies. 

Big Mamas and Dear Mamas, Geronimos and grannies. 

Healers of sickness who addressed the business. 

Wasn’t no need for traveling, homemade healthcare!

From common colds, to frequent flus to champion of childbearin’. 

Continuously connected through this cold hard system. 

When my cries were denied you were the only one listening. 

I didn’t play no dissin’ Mama when playing the dozens 

For it wouldn’t be no me if she wouldn’t of gave Daddy no lovin.

Through the hard times and struggles, discomforts and pains. 

The cold nights, beans and rice, mayo jars with kool-aid.

Yeah, I did my share of stupid stunts, fuck ups and cutting up in the class

You showed TOUGH LOVE and had no hang ups about tapping that ass.

And with those high times we had in my mind remains 

First days of school and surprise birthdays. 

They’ve been trying to divide us in hectic times throughout the history

From masta’ selling me off ‘till today with Baby ‘T’. 

You’ve produced pyramids, taught tribes and gave names to Nations. 

You are not only my mother but the Mother of Civilization. 

Those are your children in Kenya and the descendants in Dominican. 

You’ve breast fed me in Botswana. And kept me clothed in Ghana. 

Whenever they beat me down, you told me “Son stand up!” 

You said all men fall down but great Men get up. 

When they came and framed me, and placed me behind these walls. 

You knew the business, prison visits and collect phone calls. 

From the womb to the tomb, from the belly to the grave. 

Through four inch glass, prison blues and shackles and chains.

 I love you dearly, miss you really. 

 And that ain’t never gon’ change. 

 ©May 14, 1998 Chairman Fred Hampton Jr.


  1. Hello Chairman Fred Hampton Jr. My name is Brandi Webb. I am a filmmaker currently working on a documentary that charges the government with crimes. One of those crimes is the execution of your beloved Father, Chairman Fred Hampton. I would really love to interview you about your Father. I couldn't find an email address for you, but i'm hoping you see this comment. Please email me at and I can certainly reply with more detailed information on the project. You can also Google "Betrayal of a Nation."

  2. This poem is beyond cozmic reality and a heart and mind and soul,
    That can see...
    It's been awhile since you were here,
    And I pray all is well with y'all,
    Hope my sincerity is clear.
    Just learned about your papa and brave ass mom.
    She is a blessing πŸ™❣️ and strength a woman of courage
    Needed in this age
    On this stage we stand on,
    Rewriting the pages.

    And be able to tell the truth
    Of the horrible errors of past.
    And make a heaven to come,
    We pray will last.
    I was turning 14 that December 1969.
    A white girl from Brooklyn that wasn't
    Taught to hate.
    Part Jew and Italian.
    G-d bless πŸ™ your father's soul of blessed memory.
    They say in the Bible,
    In the end days
    Knowledge will increase.
    Indeed bless the internet for letting me reach out. Zei Gezunt πŸ€— be well and happy.
    Bless #abc1969
    Hope to speak with your mama one day.