Tell me how do you sleep? How does one sleep through the screaming of their brothers? How do police sleep on their beds Warmed by the breath of their living spouse, Lulled by the calm of their quiet house? How do they sleep? Unconcerned by the lives they stole Unbothered by their brothers The others We, the others with your scorn sticked on the skin Do you know how we sleep? In the deafening silence of absence The sawing pain of raw injustice Your violence Our bodies Our fles
“The Myth of John Brown”
Man this ally shit a myth
Who the fuck is John Brown?
I watched a room full of white folks sit silently and clap for a skinhead at an open mic night.
Your anti-racism is unfamiliar to me,
40 degrees out in a sleeveless t-shirt, 14/88 etched on his shoulder
And ain’t nobody see it?
Was his acoustic guitar strumming too intoxicating for you to read it?
White silence is a muthafucka ain’t it?
That ally shit for the birds,
Feminism Because it Sounds Nice Used my brother’s bodies Like brown tree stumps On which to stand. Like their color was your platform. And when you And Mott And Stanton And all the other suffragettes With hand painted portraits And lifetime biopics And artificial critical acclaim On bull shit ideologies Like Republican Motherhood Gathered upstate You summoned Isabella Baumfree ‘Cuz her new name sounded nice. (like a gold token) And when She told you That you used her brothers
Blood on The Money drugs drugs drugs Government gave us drugs looking down from above put em in the metro and watch the beauty of it flow criminalization, cement cells they facing politicking, times a ticking let em beat that case so they can run the district Trump still President and them cases, dismissed not with bringing up one’s pass cause mine inflicted to rid them ways you look forward on your mission for this electoral college, oozing with so much knowledge drawing the
BLACK IN AMERIKKKA: I'm as good as dead. At least that's how it feels to be black in Amerikkka. Can't walk down the street, eat candy, be black without cops being scared of ya. See that's the excuse that's letting them off the hook, they feared for their lives but all we had a chance to do was give a quick look. Then all of a sudden there's a pool of blood...more lost black souls, more lost black love. They fear our greatness, so they fuel our anger ...a never ending cycle of
The Two of Us The bars slam shut on a jail cell of brown skin While you and I watched those who only know our color To cover their babysitters and security guards at our school. “So, like, would you ever get with a Black girl?” While they learned where to buy bras, and how to make out with braces, You and I learned to be the highest form of taboo and the lowest rung of their existence at the same time. Forcing the idea into their universe, that we, two barely visible specks o
Criminal Record Conviction: to be born a Black woman with lips swollen to perfection like eyes mourning the daily abuses pronounced through pearly teeth of an ingrate: Birthed through blood, strengthened by stolen milk Shackles ringing out in anthem, a call and response echoing between the centuries: cries for men who might hover above the ground like paper lanterns, or be strewn across asphalt like dirty clothes— a blazing breadcrumb trail left by creatures that lurk not und