"amadou" poems
Amadou awakened with a start, it was Omar one of the guardians(security guards) of Yaldagou (the largest Hospital in the capital of Burkina Faso) knocking on the window of his taxi, Amadou had just settled down for the night after a long day in the heat and fumes that was Ouagadougou it was just after midnight on Sunday, he struggled to wake up rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Omar explained in Mori(local language), that there were two white people in need of his special service.
After a quick explanation that someone had died in a private clinic nearby and the body needed to be transported to the morgue at Yaldagou, he snapped out of his sleepiness and thought for a moment how much he could charge the rich white people, it was two days after Eid and as a strict Muslim he had been celebrating the holidays and now he had been offered an opportunity to supplement his taxi income, someone had to do it and it was an unsavory job and anyway on the few occasions he had done it, it had been lucrative, it might as well be him!
Amadou thought to himself, if you had the misfortune to die in the day time there was a private service but in the night dignity went out the window and it was up to people like Amadou and a select bunch of taxi drivers with seats that could be configured to accommodate the corpses of the recently deceased to perform this service, so taxi 87 driven by Amadou would take this lady who had died from kidney and other ***** failures, after struggling for some days she eventually lost her battle and slipped into unconsciousness and finally died.
Amadou finally settled on 10000 CFA(local currency) a fair price, after all the so-called professionals would charge 30000 CFA three times more and it was around Eid "Allah Akbar".
A quick "Thank you" to Omar for helping them and the two white people left with him for the short journey to the clinic, after the usual discussions the body was released and transported to the morgue to join the other recently deceased waiting for burial in the morning,
Amadou, rearranged the seating in his taxi after parking up in his favourite place under the trees of Yaldago it was just after one thirty, a good ninety mins work he thought to himself, yawned, and settled down to sleep a few more hours before dawn prayers.
This was Africa and "someone had to do it" was his last thought.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 7:26 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Those plain clothes cops
Won’t admit
That they wronged the Mail Man
They almost hit
Was he disorderly
Perhaps a little bit
But wouldn’t you be
If you almost was it
What’s the point
In wearing plain clothes
Acting undercover
If everyone knows
That you’re the cops
Well let’s just suppose
That they don’t know
The profession you chose
The cops were aggressive as the video shows
Now that it went viral
Almost everyone knows
Then they rear-ended another car
Which sent the prisoner flying
So there you are
But clearly they didn’t give a ****
They didn’t even bother to secure his truck
What’s the point
In wearing plain clothes
Acting undercover
If everyone knows
That you’re the cops
Well let’s just suppose
That they don’t know
The profession you chose
It was abuse of power
But the Mail Man was charged
With disorderly conduct
Which was a mirage
The facts of the matter
Are as plain as day
He shouldn’t have been arrested
But he was anyway
There was a time
They said they ruled the night
But Amadou Diallo
Was a gruesome sight
They haven’t lost that swag
And that ain’t right
What’s the point
In wearing plain clothes
Acting undercover
If everyone knows
That you’re the cops
Well let’s just suppose
That they don’t know
The profession you chose
Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016. All rights reserved.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
Did George Floyd’s life matter?
Did Breonna Taylor’s life matter?
Did Ahmaud Arbery’s life matter?
Did Eric Garner’s life matter?
Did Trayvon Martin’s life matter?
Did Mike Brown’s life matter?
Did Tamir Rice’s life matter?
Did Keith Childress’ life matter?
Did Bettie Jones’ life matter?
Did Philando Castille’s life matter?
Did Michael Noel’s life matter?
Did Jamar Clark’s life matter?
Did Michael Lee Marshall’s life matter?
Did Dominic Hutchinson’s life matter?
Did Junior Prosper’s life matter?
Did Keith McLeod’s life matter?
Did India Kager’s life matter?
Did Felix Kumi’s life matter?
Did Samuel Dubose’s life matter?
Did Darrius Stewart’s life matter?
Did Sandra Bland’s life matter?
Did George Mann’s life matter?
Did Jonathan Sander’s life matter?
Did Victor Laros’s life matter?
Did Spencer McCain’s life matter?
Did Jermaine Benjamin’s life matter?
Did Kris Jackson life matter?
Did Kevin Higgenbotham’s life matter?
Did Amadou Diallo’s life matter?
Did Oscar Grant’s life matter?
Did Calvon Reid’s life matter?
Did William Chapman’s life matter?
Did Walter Scott’s life matter?
All black / All unarmed / All murdered by US Police
Did Dylan Roof’s life matter?
Did Peter Manfredonia’s life matter?
Did Anthony Trifiletti’s life matter?
Did Patrick Crusius’ life matter?
Did James Holmes’ life matter?
All white / All murderers / All arrested peacefully by US Police
Unarmed blacks
Killed by US Police
5x unarmed whites
Black men and boys
Killed by US Police
2.5x white men and boys
This is why we kneel
This is why we march
This is why we protest
This is why we are mad as hell
This is why we are fed-up as well
This is why we riot
Riot is the language of voices unheard
When you respond
“All Lives Matter”
To our “Black Lives Matter”
You’re not listening
You didn’t hear
You don’t care
GTFOH
~ P
Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 3:38 AM UTC
À Mérante.
Au printemps, quand les nuits sont claires,
Quand on voit, vagues tourbillons,
Voler sur les fronts les chimères
Et dans les fleurs les papillons,
Pendant la floraison des fèves,
Quand l'amant devient l'amoureux,
Quand les hommes, en proie aux rêves,
Ont toutes ces mouches sur eux,
J'estime qu'il est digne et sage
De ne point prendre un air vainqueur,
Et d'accepter ce doux passage
De la saison sur notre coeur.
A quoi bon résister aux femmes,
Qui ne résistent pas du tout ?
Toutes les roses sont en flammes ;
Une guimpe est de mauvais goût.
Trop heureux ceux à qui les belles
Font la violence d'aimer !
A quoi sert-il d'avoir des ailes,
Sinon pour les laisser plumer ?
Ô Mérante, il n'est rien qui vaille
Ces purs attraits, tendres tyrans,
Un sourire qui dit : Bataille !
Un soupir qui dit : Je me rends !
Et je donnerais la Castille
Et ses plaines en amadou
Pour deux yeux sous une mantille,
Fiers, et venant on ne sait d'où.
324
Your living was a gift.
Your life taken shows us
All how we're not being.
Taking our own lives,
In effect, by not doing
All we can.
You may be dead, yet,
Still, you give us insight,
That we're not fully alive.
May your memory be
A constant reminder of
What we lose when
We fail to be,
That being everything.
Cops asked an African man,
In N.Y.C., "show us I.D."?
He reaches for his wallet,
Before he can even pull it out
His body's riddled with 20 bullets,
The cops reload, shoot him with 20 more,
Making sure he couldn't live to tell.
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 8:46 AM UTC