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I am Emmett Till
watch me not smile
you can feel me whistling to white America
while I beg to be let in
with agony arising around my soul
severity of envy crushed my heart
She watched with a smile
while I was tortured
by the white men she used
because I would not do with her
the ***
she wanted
white America
I am dead
and I am no longer your *** slave
oh no Sep 2014
“Take off your clothes.”

this is a ***** and devoted clan

“I’ll be there,” he said. “Early.”

he is slavery’s plantation overseer. of his medals
he cherishes one


the back of his home is a tool house. they turned south on Mississippi No. 1
there was no moon as they drove. there had been no denial
he’s tired o’ livin’, Chicago Boy, tired o’ sendin’ your kind down here
don’t disapprove enough of them. resist the revolt of colored men
they turned south on Mississippi No. 1. they filled him so full of poison
that he was hopeless

“I’m not afraid of you.”

they included sons, grandsons and a nephew of Moses. his body bears
multiple shrapnel wounds. close range killing “he ain’t got good sense”
nobody was holding him. he was as tough as they were
hypocrisy exposed; myth dispelled
for the first time – the story no jury heard
he looked like a man, Chicago Boy
this is the sum of the facts


he had heard of the trouble. he wanted to go home
dark-visaged, talkin’ mighty big. he staggered under its weight…
dark-visaged, he stood there naked. carried it to the river bank
stand him up there on that bluff. mark him for a coward and a fool
here are the facts
just whip him, Brother, if that won’t scare Chicago Boy
it was Sunday morning, a little before seven.
here, for the first time, I’ll pay you for the damages
they tried dirt and gravel roads, drove along the levee
here for the first time, I didn’t think they’d **** a boy
if that won’t scare Chicago Boy, hell won’t

“You still as good as I am?”

for three hours that morning, there was a fire
I’ll blow your head off, Chicago Boy
pistol whipping bruises more than it cuts
Chicago Boy, Chicago Boy
I’m no bully, Chicago Boy
Brother, whip him, shine the light on down
Brother, the Big River bends around.
the real answer is the remarkable part

“I’m as good as you are.”

seventy-two hours later – eight miles downstream
the half in their fraternity was forgotten.
this is a "found" poem using lines/phrases from the magazine article that gave the "true account" of Emmett Till's ******. I did it for class and idk I like it sort of. none of these words are mine - only the order.

— The End —