Black Rose Pearl

Rose Quartz Manifestos

Copyright@2026

From dust to dawn,

Black Cleopatra Coca Jones

Graced beyond

the center stage

By lifting every voice

Beautiful performance

Then a fellow Borikén brought

a teaching lesson from his elders

( Tiano) ways

The drums said for us to dance—so from the cane we rose,

Not just a beat, but history in our bones.

A field of sorrow, bitter, tall, and sweet,

Became the rhythm pulsing in the street.

The club’s heart, thumping from a Brooklyn room,

A Bogo light against the colonial gloom.

And from that field, a young boy’s story told,

Of ice and concrete, turning brave and bold.

The native son received the trophy, raised,

And in that grip, a hundred visions blazed.

The man said, “Mira, somos uno, brother,”

Sugarcane and city, recognizing one another.

Then came the women, radiance unveiled,

A spectrum where no lineage failed.

From deep umber to the dawn’s own light,

They moved as fire, tearing through the night.

A dance of many waters, one same sea,

A living testament: We are free.

Then came the flags, a hurricane of pride,

Taino sun where our survival’s cried.

From Borikén to every Carib isle,

Haiti’s revolution, with a defiant smile—

Their echoed courage helped to free a continent,

A debt of strength, a sacred monument.

Brazil, the South, the Central bloodline’s song,

A tapestry where all the brave belong.

Blood. Sweat. Tears. But never, ever fear.

He poured the truth for all the world to hear.

Across the years, the struggle stains the page,

But look at us, assembled on the stage.

We blemish hate with colors bright and vast,

With every future, healing every past.

So let them hear it echo, one by one:

The field, the club, the father, and the son,

The dancing light, the flags against the grey—

We stand together. We are here to stay.

And in the center, with the Sunday blaze,

Bad Bunny holds a mirror as a reflection of our days.

Not just a show, but where the world began:

To see the Many, and to call them One. "Seguimos aquí"