When it seems like all hope may be lost,
Just remember that after the last fire burns out, the lands will blossom.

our faces

all covered with sweat,

as y'all be yellin’ at us with threats,

our hands covered

with cuts and blood,

while our arms and feet,

be caked with mud

every day,

we be prayin’ to god

for our freedom to come,

ignoring all y’all sayin’ that we were born scums,

someday imma finally

leave this place

cuz’ them folks ‘round here

be claiming that black ain’t no race

all y’all folks be hootin

while callin’ my folks *******

while y’all be sittin there

rifle in hand,

finger on the trigger

y’all whipped us

tearin’ our families apart

but my ma always be sayin’

that things like kindness

comes from deep down

in our hearts

i kneel

strugglin to breathe

as you chain my neck,

and hands

but y’all push me to the ground again

as imma’ tryin’ to stand

i reckon myself i ain’t

gonna give up now

as all y’all ruin

the fields we plough

some know what life

is like without the

cuffs and chains

but the feeling feeling of freedom

is never the same

and some

that deserve it most

never leave and die

and i know that though their body is gone

their spirit always survives

I am daylight
of a dissolving stay
in Paris
looking over
wrought-iron dreams
peering through
baroque and promises
at the ransom note
written on
a sleeping **** sunbather's
****-cheeks
where it reads:
"...our marriage
was nothing more
than a foxhole to you."
~