The Police you fear.
You’ve feared them since you were five,
Mother always telling you as such.
You’re not breaking the law at five, right?
If you did, then you’d totally deserve whatever they’d do to you.
After all, they only go after people who disobey the law!

The Police you have nightmares about. Frequently.
Do you speed in your dream? Seriously?
How is it that you commit crimes in your dream?
If you don’t want to be ‘bothered’ (or as some intellectuals put it, murdered or killed), maybe just follow the law??

The Police give you pause every time you see them while driving.
The Police cause your heart to pound, your fists to clench the wheel,
And you to immediately slow down to 10 mph below the speed limit.
Really?? C’mon, now you’re just being dramatic.
If you’re so freaked out by them, maybe not speed so much?
Unless…you’re hiding something in your car?
You’ve got brown skin; you act all afraid of the cops…
You probably have drugs on you. You seriously deserve to be searched.
Just kidding! Although, I’m sure some of the white people you tell this too might actually believe it.

The Police you fear at the airport, with their K9 dogs on leashes.
It does not help that your stupid acne medication smells like ****.
Or…Maybe you just have **** on you?
You know that the dumb dog probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
But hey, at least it doesn’t smell like rotten eggs!

The Police you have to create a lot of strategies around,
Like a football game,
But instead of winning,
The main goal is not to get beaten or shot to death!

The Police have harassed your dad a lot.
You’re always told how you’re a shade or two lighter than him.
But hey! At least you’re not darker!

The Police harass your dad at work and off work.
But if he didn’t want to stop, maybe not wear a LG uniform and drive in a LG truck!
No wonder why they stopped him and asked what he’s doing!
He’s so suspicious.

The School/University Police has never once made you feel safe.
You freeze up like a deer in headlights and force yourself to move.
You keep your head down, not maintain eye contact,
But maybe in order to make it really clear
You should wear a gigantic “I AM NOT SUSPICIOUS SIGN”.
Do they sell those on Amazon?

Maybe you can take a look online?
Maybe that’ll help your whole…’ooh I’m so scared of cops thing?’
Whatever you do, get some help.

Lemme see your hands,
That's what the officer said,
But he still shoots like he couldn't see my hands,
Why did you shoot me?
I kept my hands visible,
I didn't resist or reach in my pockets.

You ain't need to pull out and fire your gun,
All that was unnecessary,
You think just because you're an officer of the law,
That you're above the law,
You're not above the law,
You need to be better at protecting and serving,
Stop killing us.

Protect us and stop killing us,
I'm just a innocent black man,
The black on black crime getting scary,
Black lives matter,
Ths color of my skin makes life harder,
Had a target on my back since birth.

Compassion informs my outrage,

Skinny black kid,
super sensitive
playing the violin
for kittens,
pacifist vegetarian
tried to tell policemen
“I am not violent.
I’m an introvert.
I am different,”
as they choked him
then had paramedics
dose him
with ketamine.

Buds of pain
do not bloom
but burst, spray,
and sprain
my brain
that was self-trained
in the art of
kindness and reason.

It takes
less than five minutes
to break a mother’s heart,
to tare her world apart,
to shatter and claim
that they are not to blame
after unloading a full clip
on an autistic thirteen-year-old
who wasn’t mentally equipped
to do exactly what he was told.

Love and mercy
should rule the day
but cops make
violence great again.
Human suffering
is not magic
just unnecessarily tragic. cont.

Micheal Brown,
Eric Garner,
Tamir Rice,
George Floyd,
Freddy Gray,
Breonna Taylor,
Elijah Mcclain,
Linden Cameron,
Jacob Blake,
and so many other names.
There has to be a better way.

And if you speak to me about hell
I will tell you and I will say
I've been there,
Hell,
I was born there.

And if you ask me how I know for sure
I will tell you and I will say
All the demons are here
Hell,
There's more than one devil too

Hell is here
Hell is home.

He was a boy becoming a man
He was a boy with dreams
He was a boy who had life in him
He was a boy who had love to give.

He was a designer
He was a youth
He was a creative
He was the truth

Oke wanted to live
Oke wanted a good life for his mum
Oke wanted a good life for his brother
Oke wanted a good life for his lover

So much love to give
So many more memories to make
So many creatives to build
So much history he could have made
Oke was a man
A man who died a boy

A handsome boy, we will never know how handsome he would have been as a man.
Oke wanted to take over the world
He was designing his own life with everyone he loves by his side.

Now, where is Oke?
Where is his spirit?
Where is his creativity?
Where are his emotions?
Where is his smile?

He said "Nigeria won't end me"
One
Two
Three
Nigeria became the end of him.
Gone to the ground, never to be remembered by the world just by those who truly love him.

Where is Oke?

Bury him in Satin
Bury him with the winds
Let his flesh touch the sands and his spirit land in the lord's hands
Let his dreams die
Let his love die
Let his smile die
Let him rest

Where are you, Oke?
Let me come with you
Maybe then I would rest just like you
Let's meet for the first time amongst the sand
Let's shake hands and play in the dark

Where are you, Oke?
A Handsome boy never to be a man
Sleep well Okay? Oke.

When my mind began to cloud
I began thinking out loud.

Look the city is burning.
Can you see it?
This will not be
super flashy
or rise up like a phoenix.

Sleepless eyes
are set in red
aching dry
from crying
for the dead;

While shaking fist
chant and resist
the oppressiveness
that lit this ****
to begin with.

Violence
erupts,
but it was expected,
from seeing the shame
of those who claim
they should be respected
whilst acting like thugs.

It is an irony
that they don’t seem to see
begging for relief
from a similar anxiety
which they imposed
on those
who are just asking for
the grace of human decency.

The city settles
the chaos will resume shortly
and I watch brave warriors
struggle to catch
their tear gassed breathes.

Blow my **** avidly
Rooted on your knees
Use your head for once!
Take it whole as I force in
Adore feasting of my *****
Let it run down and thank me

I am sorry,
but do not
bother comforting me.

I am crying right now
but you will not read
this poem for many weeks
after this sadness
has passed.

These are not tears
of self-pity.
The water works
are because it hurts
to see others get hurt.

This isn’t a woe is me
small set of verses
for people to see.
This is saltwater anguish
as I watch others suffering.
This is outrage
at the outright inhuman displays
that these authoritarians play
as they spray mace
in a little child’s face
while her mother is
looking the other way.

This is a tongue held so often
that my own words
can no longer soften
this brutal reality.

This is my shame,
cause I claim
to be a good person
but I am not out on the street
with other protesters
cutting my teeth
letting cops bludgeoning me
with their nightsticks.