I sit alone in an English garden
And gaze in awe at sunset sky
Where colours paint a masterpiece
So exquisite to the eye
From deep maroons to orange fire
It fades into a yellow fan
And sprinkles specks of fading clouds
That sink to rendezvous with dawn
And as I marvel at this display
In silence and at evening's rest
I think of those so far away
Undergoing violent fiery test
Across the sea and over time
A million voices rage and cry
At evil acts by law's decree
That can no longer be denied
Where justice is not black and white
And hate's hunger is so overfed
For authority is on white pages
In ink that reads a ****** red    
An army of intolerance
A brotherhood of hate
Bedecked by badge of bludgeoning
And tazer in each state
Crushing spirit and stealing peace
While demanding our respect
While shocking limbs and rocking lives
And kneeling on the neck
Instilled with warped ideology
That debases human mind
Tainted white superiority
And so divided of humankind
But where is hate's validity?
How is it justified?
Where is their authority
To harrass and to divide?
For none can claim to be the first
To be the proudest purest race
For America was full of colour
Before Europe found that place  
Did these men not swear an oath
To “disharge faithfully and well”
And defend all citizens equally
And truth to uphold and to tell?
And did they not seal their oath
With promise solemn and divine
Proclaiming liberty and devotion
“So help me God” the final line!  
And what do we know of our creator
Is he so hard and partial too?
Is God's likeness just caucasian
Or is his love both fair and true
His words are there for all to see
In the Bible's pages plain and clear
That God does not show favouritism
But loves all those who hold Him dear
For when the greatest artist made
The races that dwell on earth today
He used a pallet and brush of life
And a million colours to stroke and splay
For this world is not black and white
Nor grey or dull and monochrome
But is crowned with dazzling glorious colours
No shade is missing, no not one
So if it pleases God to paint
This earth in colours of his love
Then surely skin of many colours
Must be a gift of God above
So please Mr Police Officer
Before you terrorize more souls
Because their skin is not like yours
Be sure you know your cause and goal
For it is not for liberty
Nor for honour that you whack
And do not think that God approves
Of your vile and prejudiced attacks    
For you dishonour that badge you wear
And the land that you protect
And with every blow you turn to black
You **** the law and lose respect
And in case you think me biased
And writing to support my kind
Please know I am male and white
And just like God, I'm colour-blind

the ****** of another black male
riots, looting and shooting
divides states of america
a crying statue of liberty

the constitution is a shallow bible
some cops are praying before killing
executions of sworn-in hands
invisible dirt on their fingers

blood is dripping from these lines
this ain't a poem, ya feel me?
autoranking be irrelevant today
justice is, and chauvin has to pay

his name is short for chauvinism:
a belief in national superiority
this inhumane being is self-obsessed
he is not a cop but a killer

when will it all finally stop?
this flood of violence
bring it to an end!
chauvin's knees are a weapon

and he's abused it for too long
put him behind bars, punish him
george, you are in heaven now
surrounded by air: now you can breathe

in memoriam to you
much colorblind love
R.I.P. George Floyd
✞ May 25th, 2020

America has never been great.
Built on the backs of stolen people on stolen land.
We’re a melting ***, they say, a conglomeration of cultures and ethnicities,
But words mean nothing, when time and time again our neighborhoods are filled with injustice,
Our streets only know carnage.
Our protectors unleash violence upon civilians and our leaders continue to justify acts of brutality.

America is on fire
And the smoke clears and dawn breaks,
We will continue to fight for a new beginning.

In the Charleston marketplace, a boutique auctions off
detailed limited edition replicas of black history: a slave
who hugs his chains upright over his porcelain hands,
is sold for $1200.00 to a man with a black Amex card,
a horde listening to the Emancipation Proclamation
goes for the same amount, Malcolm X gets $1000.00,
MLK just a little less, the OJ bobble heads sell for $60.00  
in the store’s gift shop while the white Bronco in
slow pursuit complete with flashing police lights
and breathless live commentary garners $2400.00,
Rosa Parks languishes at the rear eventually getting $300.00,
Eric Garner, Treyvon Martin, Rodney King are
part of lot sold for $500.00 clearance and a free
Black Lives Matter T-shirt, George Floyd gasping out
“I can’t breathe,” enshrined in a porcelain halo nabs
the same price, while the last figurine, of his murderer
being embraced by a very happy Donald Trump is
purchased by a man in a MAGA hat for $10,000.00.

she cries in shattered glass,
in the open spaces where the dye was cast.
a world so white, so drenched in paint,
the ones now deaf once were saints.
and when the black came out to say
a counterfeit bill a jog a day-
light crime so bold so crazy
it made the streets hazy with smoke.
equality sounds a lot like a hoax
the war brushed away with nothing but Twitter
tear gas and bullets are so much fitter, bitter
is the taste of deafness upon a lost society.
abandoned, forgotten, stomped on and out
no wonder some have forgotten their law abiding piety.
white paint becomes pink
when mixed with blood.
pink is a color for little girls,
and fits perfectly with the sound of our world.

Black is a colour often we misread,
according to evolution,
most superior human, it means.
All the dominant alleles flushed into one,
and still the recessive ones are able to prey upon in day’s sun.
What have they done no body questions,
we are white, they are black, kills all the discussions.
Leads to the final stage where death is the reward,
for something that is genetic, it is pretty rough accord.
All the people then come together,
still the predator walks freely,
what has happened to humans,
have they lost all the emotional ability?
I stand with victims, you should too,
as for no one is black nor is white,
everything and everyone is grey even in day’s light.

The country's on fire
Buildings ablaze
A situation most dire
Filmed through the haze.

Protesters all shouting
Passions inflamed
Of their anger no doubting
For the victim now named.

They march with hands raised
Indignant and loud
Determined, unphased,
To pressure unbowed.

But the message is tainted
The moment hijacked
The vision now painted
Of stores all ransacked.

Looters in droves
Their arms filled with goods
From iPhones to clothes
Their faces in hoods

Frenzied they run
Opportunity knocks
Plate glass they shun
With hammers and rocks.

Men of no soul
These rats of the night
Not caring they stole
What's pure and what's right.

Sadness surrounds us
Few places to turn
So much to discuss
While our cities now burn.

This is a verse for George
This is a poem for Philando
This is a memory of Oscar
Continuing the fight for Malcolm
Venerating the wisdom of Martin
This is a call to action
Even if just a fraction
Causes this cause to gain traction
For people tired of the inaction
The people have spoken
And decades have passed
Nothing has changed
Protesters still getting gassed
With years behind them
Trying to stay quiet
One ******
Two murders
A thousand
It's no surprise
That this protest is now a riot
Flames flitting in and out of frame
Guns glinting
as bootlickers offer more of the same
Tin badges holding themselves
As above the rest of us
I scream in disgust
What gives you the right
To ****** my neighbors?
What gives you the right
To brutalize my friends?
These fires ignite a memory
And makes me sing
Noting the similarity
To Martin,
and also Rodney king
I'll stop now
My angry rambling
I'll leave you with a quote
Most would think
It was said by Malcolm
But it was said by Dr. King
It's not absurd
He said it
"A riot is the language of the unheard"
That is the wisdom of Martin
That's why we continue to fight for Malcolm
That's why I remember Oscar
I wrote this poem for Philando
I wrote this verse for George