Tell Gregory Porter

To find me on the corner

With a cam recorder next to a coroner,

Where blood stains engrave

The cities pavement.

Bodies left behind outlined

Just to outline the enslavement.

Do my actions reflect those of a pacifist

Or a white hand that lacks a black fist?

Take a look at the visual of my concentration;

Open casket,

Nose high, closed eyes,

Tears of the surprised,

During the wake of the given invitation.

The received information

Results in cultural separations,

A fight for rights and reparations.

Targets painted in red across the nation,

Were never hard to hit ‘cause

They were cornered by gentrification.

Death becomes a part of recreation.

Pops couldn’t hop the scotch

Because of his inability to cope.

And young necks remain engrained

Because every day they jumpin’ rope.

Scholars hoping when

The bell rings hell doesn’t sing

On the grounds where they play,

‘cause bodies sway where ever they lay

Stringed to a child’s swing.

So tell Gregory Porter

To find me on the corner

With a cam recorder next to a coroner,

‘cause the school system

Is a southern battle zone

Positioned over catacombs

Filled with black skin

Killed by those

That lack melanin

But the color of their ligaments and bones

Remain akin.