But he is already dead
the living carcass of Cain
he died in weakened bones
when without strength or vigour
his and his trawled the hot equators
looting and plundering without hearts or shame

and then once more again
he died as the stolen and chained
grew in his harbours under his nose
to thrive and grow and buy his inheritance
and right in his face they made millions and more
to earn places in hallowed halls exempt to the likes of him

but cowards die a thousand times
for those from plantations are now Doctors
some Lawyers and Accountants or governing Offices
while our prodigals go caps in hand begging Welfare checks
stealing from neighbours as Taxi-drivers **** their little sisters
and boiling in red rages as the new black are the rich colours now

our living carcass died long ago
not in honour or grace but in riled envy
wearing yesterdays cloak of disgrace and shame
borrowing tomorrow mirages to find himself and relevance
dancing in woke shattered idioms with regressive forked tongues
the pathetic relics now indented thugs of the Peckham Revolution Party