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

COVID-19 presented respiratory challenges to the world. If that wasn’t difficult enough to live through now, I am George Floyd.

Unable to breath,
I sleep with the light on tonight, wondering if there is any light left in America.

And just like that my heart split in two, stained with black grief + ache for my black kind. My African people. My American brotherhood. My family.

I cry.
No longer able to numb myself from reality. If there was ever a challenge with loving each other - as black & brown people - my prayer is that it cease.

No matter our peculiarities, differences, social status, ***, last name... I LOVE YOU and I see

I must continue each day loving my black & brown people- stranger or familiar- with each sun rise and every sun set. I won’t let my fear of the unknown prevent me from loving you. For my next eight minutes + forty six seconds may be my last breathe.

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.

There is another pandemic
Sweeping across the country
The more pigment you have
The more you're at risk
If you disobey
You die
There is no end in sight

I heard there are riots
downtown for George
Chauvin is going to fry
In more ways than one.
I don't think it will make things better.
But it's a start

Billowing smoke fills the sky —
Evidence of our Presence,
Our tragic War Cry,
Our fight for Convalescence.

Fire is a language —
Brighter than words;
Brings more damage
& equally absurd.

Violence is a tongue —
The scream of the Unwanted —
Echoing from sore lungs;
Yet, we are not daunted.

No fear, break the gird —
Refuse to be unheard —
Fire is our Word,
Violence is our Word.

Black

Is it a crime to be black? Should i be castigated for my skin color?
Am I less of a human? Or is the fear that I am more? I’ll leave that for later.

They say black lives matter but does it really? They say their neighbours are black, that their barber down the road is black. They try to relate to everything black except what it actually means to be black.

The white eye don’t see what the black eye sees. The white life don’t don’t feel what the black life feels.
How can you play down a fear that you don’t feel? A fear that you instilled.

Tomorrow isn’t promised but that doesn’t give you the right to take away my tomorrow today.
I tell my kids they are the leaders of tomorrow but that is if that they can get through today.

The victims could have me or you. Sadly could still be. Think of the ones that have been brushed aside, with no camera or evidence to prove a thing. Think of the pain caused over the years. The worst part is? This is not a one-off, painfully It is just a matter of time before this happens again.

So do not tell me how to feel. I don’t tell you *******. But it does seem like you do pick and choose who to ****. Would you still be you if you could pick? That is for you to answer. The blood that you’ve spilled, it’s time for you to answer.
If we are picking and choosing I would pick repeatedly to be

Black

I passed through the airport in Minneapolis once.

Maybe, we brushed elbows in the security line. We took off our shoes side by side while they poked through our luggage.

That's when it hit me: there are so many people I'll see once and then never see again. Like, one look is all I'll get, for life!

I walked straight through the metal detector and never looked back.
And now, I keep my distance: six feet away as six feet under, masks as muzzles so that we speak only in glances.

I should have given you a better look on my way to the gate,
before the flights to our final destinations.

Every meeting is both a reunion and a rift.

Strangers like us move apart
with each hollow hello or comment about the weather.

I mean, what if every meeting like that was a loss?

We are good as dead to each other
on arrival and departure,
footprints swept clean by
the wind created from dead bodies
walking the other way.

I should have said this to you
about the virus
as proof of our survival,
how we’re in this together, how your loss is mine.

Each new disaster,
natural or otherwise,
keeps seizing our lungs and
our last breaths like we have
nothing to say.

I have died a million times
Master's whip
Has left my back a million lines
Each body left broken
Connections lost
Cut a million vines
Each body left breathless
"I can't breathe" the words screamed a billion times