White radiant light and spectral sun
Dark nightshade black and splitting moon.
Here’s dreaming of a fractured world
Where then’s too late and now’s too soon.

White strands float with darkness looming
Fearing what might fail to be
Elusion from that one bright true thing
Cruel circles of eternity.

But when the line of shadow’s passed
And brightness welcomes strands of white
We shall see no shadows last
They grow and fade in Nightshade’s light.

When a neck is crushed by someone's knee
He may not be able to breathe
He may even die

It's not always a matter between two
It’s a matter of Justice and Injustice
The Injustice crushes the neck of justice

Crooks say Blacks and Whites always fight
But they are not at all right
It’s a myth created by the haters

Haters injects racism, casteism, religionism
In the breath, mind and blood of everyone
But not everyone are that much fools

When haters are supported by the throne
Then the peoples who are not the fools
They shake the throne with much force

They convey the message in a nice way
They have the power to invert the throne
They have the power to break the throne

Because Blacks and Whites never fight
They recognize each others right
And always support what is right

The feeling under

your fingertips

was still true.

From sun up

to sun

down

just as long.

Normality was

a quiet

that you've never known

and

hooves,

manual labor,

the smell,

wood and stone.

They didn't know

that kings were, too,

uncomfortable.



When you imagine

them, remember:

the world was still

in color.

Let me tell y’all something:
The white man don’t care about our suffering.
The privilege is too bright to see us.

The white man don’t care about us.
The white man wants to see us get shot,
The white man wants to see us wither and perish.

But who built America on their backs,
Bare handed, and
Whipped into submission?

We did.

We will take back America.
We will take back our streets,
Paved with the blood and tears of our people.
This is our America.

Not whitewashed and stained red with racism.

This is your America.
Where when we say, “Stop! Don’t shoot!”
You shoot anyways.

This is your America.
Where when we say, “I can’t breathe.“
You continue to suffocate us.

This is your America.
Where when we say, “Help.”
You continue to let us suffer.

This is your America.
Where the president calls us thugs,
And threatens to shoot us and our freedom.

This is not my America.

This is your America.
Where you shoot us for having cell phones.
Where you terrorize our sons and daughters.
Where you **** us for being black.

Who gonna protect us?
Not cops drunk on their own power and superiority.
Not the president blinded by racism.
Not our white “allies” who stand by and watch us burn.

But if we burn,
You burn with us.

If you **** us,
You die with us.

We tried peace,
We tried awareness,
But we always end up with violence.

We’re scared,
But who can blame us?

You’re killing us with your American Dream,
You’re murdering us with your American Dream,
You’re suffocating us with your American Dream.

This is your America—
Not mine.

We will take back America.
We will take back our freedom
Or we will die trying.
And that is the American Dream.

Imagine there’s a painting
adorning the wall of some president’s master bedroom. It hangs
beneath a mirrored ceiling where his wife
(lucky her) gets to watch his pumping ****
wobble like a pale hairy jelly.

Let’s say it sits above a dozen nicotine silver wigs
on a perfect chesterfield dresser,
and maybe it gazes down, in lurid grey and gold:

a grinning Adolf ******
riding a merry go round of charging marble stallions,
one leather glove tightly gripping the reigns
the other waving at scores
of muscular blonde women
and heroic dead eyed men
with lantern jaws.

Let’s just say this now and get it out in the open
before it’s too late.

beads of salt and sweat edge
the Cuban sandwich zest from
the tip of my tongue
flavors of my own theme song
echo in my throat

I'm merry ******* footfalls
on hot concrete snares
and the groans swinging
between my thighs take lead
singing cat whistles
along Main Street

snakes will be snakes
and tight cotton shirts
is asking for venom vial shots

don't worry though
those are my brother's loosened trousers
I'm a sweet gardener
I hold doors open
and voted for Hillary
I'm blinding reflection
standing over the hill

but don't shake my thoughts
with your pepper singed howls
cleaning you up messes my stride
dress like a lady and
monsters look for prettier things

oil stains dripping through
the elbows of my shirt
writes working man sonnets
across noir alley doorways
named Touch But Don't Tell

keep quite and use the suggestion box
and don't blame me for chromosomes
genetic randomness isn't my fault
biochemical cocktails don't drown babies
you just fill your bathtub with them

why do you need life jackets
to fill my shirts
empty your oil can and get a promotion
so you can buy your own

I'm tattered sheets stuffed
over hotel window rails
you're a frail damsel selling dreams
I won't buy, I peep keyholes
save digital copies and call the cops
stop screaming and let me save you

your fingers compress a sweaty glock
rioting my stomach
your tones too ******* loud
remember I loaded the bullets
so at least credit me the shot

beads of blood and sweat
whisper cat o' nines tails
see I'm your martyr
but only on favor street.

Melting frost bites
Exposed porcelain white skin
Weighed down with a dose indoor

My mind
a cadaver of
              reflections.
              Decomposing
within a coffin
                        of white..