A 12-year old boy walks in
The dry Cleveland air never disappoints
It was his first day at school
"How was your day Tamir?"
Spouts his mother from the kitchen
As she prepares the evening dinner

School was ok I guess
I could do better in my classes but whatever
Basketball practice was fun

A 12-year old boy walks in
Today is especially cold even for Cleveland
The snow stuck like it was there to stay
"How was your day Tamir"
His mother asks from the living room

School was ok
Can I can go to the park tomorrow?
I want to have a snowball fight with my friends

A 12-year old boy walks in
Dry cold air is the perfect weather for bleeding
He walks in and tries to cover the holes in his chest
"How was your day Tamir?"
His mother asks
Just like any other day

Mommy I went to the park today
But my friends never showed up
So I made snowballs on my own
And I played with my airsoft gun
Mommy all of a sudden the park was empty
A car zoomed right in front of me
It was only a few steps
The police car door opened
And they shot me Mommy
I was reaching to give them my airsoft gun
Mommy I'm dead now
The holes in my chest they won't close up
Nobody saved me Mommy
I'm so sorry I made a big mistake
I didn't mean to scare people with my airsoft gun
I won't make the same mistake next time
I promise!
Mommy please forgive me
I promise next time I will have more control
Mommy give me another chance
Mommy please cover my red holes

I am the shadow of trayvon martin
Lying on the ground just as he did
I'm black just as he was
I wasn't planning to die that day either
I wasn't threatning nobody either
that day
The gunshots echoed
just as loud
when I was shot down as Mike Brown
yet his name echoes through the streets years later still
mine followed me to the grave
They don't care about me it seems
If I cried "what about me"
Who would ever see?
because my hashtag has even been drowned so deep in the depths of R.I.P's that I can't barely breathe anymore
When we think black brutality
Why do the names of trayvon
Mike
Tamir
Sandra
Rush to our heads just as fast as blood once rushed to theirs?
Does my black life, too, matter?
I can't blame you
That there have been so many deaths due to oppression and police brutality that they all seem to sound the same
No matter how loud we scream Black lives matter
We will never be seen as the living
But the potentially dead
We cry for justice to a system that's no longer built to accept us
A president that tries to forget us
A black voice will always be too loud to a world who never intended on listening
Who am I?
Besides a hashtag and a t-shirt with my face on it?
A black lives matter sign and a melanin fist?
A statistic?
I am black excellence
Regardless of how much sin you may see in my kin

My entire life, I've been around the police force.
Mommy, Uncle Tony, and Anita have always been my favorite.
My heroes with the shiny cars and badges.
In my eyes, they are reigning champions of
"good officers still exist" during times like this.

I've never seen a storm last this long,
and I've kept my silence for far too long.
I was stuck.
For all I knew was a good officer until my brothers
and sisters were exploited on tv screens and magazines.
Blood seeping down and staining shirts, eyes wide open,
and bodies lying in the street.

Growing up, all I knew was a good officer.
So my world shook when I noticed the bad ones, too.
They make it hard for me to defend what I've always
known to protect me. At some point, the bad ones,
we must ****. And with a corrupt justice system
that dismisses the actions that we see, it gets tough...
For both you and me.
"STOP ******* KILLING US," we scream.
But no matter how many octaves we reach,
they still aren't listening. And we are left to wonder,
"Who's next: you or me?"

We make posters with blank spaces,
prepared for another one fallen.
But it's apparent that they refuse to see
that our people are hurting; and that
the chains they put on us not that many years ago
are still bound to us as if they are the latest accessory.

I didn't celebrate the fourth this year.
My people are dying, and here I am breathing
and hoping that anyone near and dear isn't affected by this mockery.
"Black on black crime is a real thing." No denying that statement
but why say that first knowing that some of the ones
we are told to trust don't want to see you free?
Do you understand that any black man could be next?
Even though I'm a woman, ****, it could be me.
My *****, are you listening? Did you get word?
Homie said, "Set your clock back 300 years!"
How about that for a rude awakening?

Quit telling my people that this **** here is an illusion.
You wanna be "a *****" so badly?
Cool, my *****, this is our reality.
We out here dying every day, b.
Pictures of dead bodies and videos of the crime scene,
mothers and children crying.

I never know what to expect.
I'm just praying I don't get a call saying (insert name here)
died at (insert time here) for their melanin radiating
and minding their business.
#JusticeFor___: Trayvon, Sandra, Kathryn, Sean, Eric,
Rekia, Amadou, Mike, Kimani, Kenneth, Travares,
Tamir, Aiyana, Freddie.
Alton and Philando with six shots to the chest.
****, y'all know what's next and I'm so ******* tired.
I will say their names unapologetically
because my heart can't take
my people's hearts tearing at the seams
from the mutual pain we are experiencing.

Black kings, I will pray for you.
Black families, stay whole.
Black children, alive and unborn, I love you.
Apparently: a wallet, sleeping, Skittles, a cellphone,
loud music, cigarettes, cigarillos, shopping at Wal-Mart,
toy guns, failure to signal, CDs, and reaching
for your license and registration can get you all ****** up.

I've never seen a storm last this long.
I've never seen the good officers be seen as the criminal.
I've never seen a people so desperate and anxious
for light at the end of a tunnel...
Until the bad cops thought it was okay
to play illegally and get away.
*7716

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right

in the supposedly post-racial united states of america

the only thing this society seems to be is post humanity.

black americans are routinely treated with barely a shred of human decency.

stripped of our agency under the iron fist of white supremacy

post the cold blooded murders of Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Ezell Ford, Eric Garner, Kimane Gray, John Crawford, and countless others-

these are the strange fruits that hang from our nation’s poplar trees.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. or is it nineteen sixty four? many a time I have opened the morning paper to see headlines that would not be out of place in that era of bloodshed.

more care given to a cotton cloth flag than to the black bodies that lie battered and broken in the streets.

"think of the businesses!" they scream, mouths afroth.

but won't anyone think of the black children murdered for carrying BB Guns? won't anyone think of the fathers? the mothers? the sons and daughters whose lives are cut short by those who are supposed to 'protect and serve?'

I will stop "making this about race" when the police stop giving me reason to fear for my life simply for existing. it is not enough to be peaceful and innocent anymore.

does this conversation upset you? can you not cope with these atrocities that go on every day in your precious land of the free?

In a sick way it almost makes sense

that in a nation built from nothing upon the backs of the enslaved

that it would take a bit longer than a hundred and fifty years to stop feeling the pain.

the whips and chains that once bound us were not broken, but merely transformed.

our shackles are now student loans;

plantations were exchanged for privatized prisons and lynch mobs now wear blue uniforms.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right.

maybe it’s got something to do with the way that all people seem to care about nowadays is iggy azalea’s new hit single but not the way that white rappers want to be black so badly up until it’s time to fight for us. to march with us. to die with us.

miley cyrus can prance around onstage fetishizing black bodies like modern day hottentot venuses but when black bodies are being violated by the police she’s strangely silent.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right.


but there is a light that shines through this darkness. that light is within me, and you, and within the hearts of every single man and woman of all colors and creeds who raises their fists and says "No more."  

our fight is not over. the road will be long. it is very possible that more will die along the way.  but their deaths will not be in vain.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. but it will not be this way forever.

and and fourteen and something isn't right

in the supposedly post-racial united states of america

the only thing this society seems to be is post humanity.

black americans are routinely treated with barely a shred of human decency.

stripped of our agency under the iron fist of white supremacy

post the cold blooded murders of Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Ezell Ford, Eric Garner, Kimane Gray, John Crawford, and countless others-

these are the strange fruits that hang from our nation’s poplar trees.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. or is it nineteen sixty four? many a time I have opened the morning paper to see headlines that would not be out of place in that era of bloodshed.

more care given to a cotton cloth flag than to the black bodies that lie battered and broken in the streets.

"think of the businesses!" they scream, mouths afroth.

but won't anyone think of the black children murdered for carrying BB Guns? won't anyone think of the fathers? the mothers? the sons and daughters whose lives are cut short by those who are supposed to 'protect and serve?'

I will stop "making this about race" when the police stop giving me reason to fear for my life simply for existing. it is not enough to be peaceful and innocent anymore.

does this conversation upset you? can you not cope with these atrocities that go on every day in your precious land of the free?

In a sick way it almost makes sense

that in a nation built from nothing upon the backs of the enslaved

that it would take a bit longer than a hundred and fifty years to stop feeling the pain.

the whips and chains that once bound us were not broken, but merely transformed.

our shackles are now student loans;

plantations were exchanged for privatized prisons and lynch mobs now wear blue uniforms.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right.

maybe it’s got something to do with the way that all people seem to care about nowadays is iggy azalea’s new hit single but not the way that white rappers want to be black so badly up until it’s time to fight for us. to march with us. to die with us.

miley cyrus can prance around onstage fetishizing black bodies like modern day hottentot venuses but when black bodies are being violated by the police she’s strangely silent.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right.


but there is a light that shines through this darkness. that light is within me, and you, and within the hearts of every single man and woman of all colors and creeds who raises their fists and says "No more."  

our fight is not over. the road will be long. it is very possible that more will die along the way.  but their deaths will not be in vain.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. but it will not be this way forever.

By: Cedric McClester

So Black Lives Matter
Is more than idle chatter
As we learned in Chicago
Just the other day
Where an unarmed black youth
Was callously blown away
And if we didn’t have a tape
It couldn’t be placed on display

A seventeen year old
In the street lifeless and cold
Who was shot in the back
By a cop as he ran away
Now that’s just a sad fact
No matter what they have to say
And If the event wasn’t taped
The cop would be okay

Demonstrating in the street
Although some may object
Followed by a well placed tweet
Gets the movement it’s respect
And we’ve seen other instances
Where this has applied
Because a camera witnesses
What an officer denied

And when we look to Cleveland
Where young Tamir Rice
Was shot down like a dog
Which wasn’t very nice
In a mere matter of seconds
He was lying in the ice
And the cop that shot him
Didn’t think about it twice






























Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016.  All rights reserved.

The black names drip from our obituaries, sticky and thin.
You would think they would burn into our minds,
the brand of injustice against bound skin—
But a headstone is lost in unending lines.

It is horrifying.

Despicable.

How do we allow one man to **** another in cold blood?
Life spilled pours out in floods
Our men in blue drenched red
With the staggering numbers dead
And we sit back with “not all cops are the same”

Not every officer’s a killer but do you remember the names
Treyvon and Michael and Eric and Dontre and John and Ezell and Dante and Tanisha and Akai and poor little Tamir, who was still a kid,

Tell me what he did?

There is systematic opression and agression against a group skin defined
Where ****** is fine, it happens all the time, killers let off the line
Because of an oath that should bind
The oath they forget, the promise to protect, held up for all citizens except
The ones they choose to neglect

The badge not a shield but a riot ram
Against those that take a stand
And raise defiant hands
For the names lost in the clatter,

Black Lives Matter.

This isn't a poem
this is a protest
This isn't equality,
it's injustice.
America the brave
America the free,
Where were you,
When he said, "I can't breathe?

How are we
the leading examples
so rooted with prejudice,
it's time to turn tables.
How does one be such a threat,
at one hundred and thirty five feet
that they must be shot,  Six times,
It a miraculous feat.

Since when did murderers get off
without trial,
I mean even Republicans
won't give denial
America the brave
America my foot,
where were you,
"Hands up, don't shoot"

Its not all lives matter,
we know the white ones already do,
it's about giving others
what they're due.
Black lives matter,
Martin Luther King
gave his speech fifty years ago,
yet we're still fighting.

Have you heard the policemen,
they have no remorse,
the literal demonization,
and its going to get worse.

unless we can stop it,
and I'm hoping we can
Mike wasn't a thief,
this god forsaken land.

How are we so quick to judge,
Russia, Korea, China and more,
yet we **** innocent people,
and racism soars.

You want change,
you're blaming Obama?
Change it yourself,
Family means ohana

Yeah that's A children's movie,
but wait a moment yet
we could learn a lot
from children I bet.

They don't have biases,
they're only three
in their small minds
everyone's free.

But thats not the truth
It's cold and hard,
just the bodies
of a bright future,
Mike Brown
of a boy with a hoodie
Trayvon Martin
of a Twelve year-old boy
Tamir Rice
of a husband and father of six children
Eric Garner
You won't be forgotten,
as long as this world I'm living in
as long as it goes on,
you'll always be thought of
and what might've been.

I am scared!
Scared of this world

Robert Godwin Sr
Alyssa Elsman

How many more have to die?
By my kind,
By their kind,
Because they blame some other kind
What ever happened to just being
kind?

Daniel Parmertor, Russell King, Jr., Demetrius Hewlin

Where were you when the World Trade Center went down?
It’s something everyone alive then will always remember
Never Forget! was our brand motto for American Pride

Krystle Marie Campbell, Lü Lingzi, Martin William Richard, Sean A. Collier, Dennis Simmonds

And now, the death of another is so commonplace
That we forget what and where.
It’s no longer personal enough to register where in our lives that it struck us
Only note that another life has been struck down
Add another tally to the equation
And still it does not add up

Trayvon Martin
Tamir Rice
Samuel DuBose
Delrawn Small
Philando Castile
Terence Crutcher
Heather Heyer

We are completely desensitized
And decentralized
We keep ourselves disconnected
(because we just can’t absorb,
Take,
Process it all)
It’s not us
It’s not me
It’s somebody else
Somewhere else.
Until it is
Then we care
How much can we take, before we break

Cynthia Marie Graham Hurd, Susie Jackson, Ethel Lee Lance, Depayne Middleton Doctor, Clementa C. Pinckney, Tywanza Sanders, Daniel Simmons, Sharonda Coleman Singleton, Myra Thompson

The tragedy is the comedy
We laugh so we don’t cry
Sakia Gunn
Richie Phillips
Nireah Johnson, Brandie Coleman
Glenn Kopitske
Scotty Joe Weaver
Jason Gage
Michael Sandy
Sean William Kennedy
Duanna Johnson
Lawrence "Larry" King
Angie Zapata
Lateisha Green
****** August Provost, III
Mark Carson

I can’t say I’ve never thought of committing violence.
Hell, when my ex-wife cheated, it occurred to me
And I can’t say that I have never hit another
I’ve been a kid
My whole life is designed just to grow up
But, I’ve thought of killing myself far more often than the thought to harm anyone else have ever occurred to me
Because my problems are mine;
My fault,
And I am not seeking some scapegoat

Keenya Cook, Jerry Taylor, Million A. Woldemariam, Claudine Parker, Hong Im Ballenge, James Martin, James L. Buchanan, Premkumar Walekar, Sarah Ramos, Lori Ann Lewis-Rivera, Pascal Charlot, Dean Harold Meyers, Kenneth Bridges, Linda Franklin née Moore, Jeffrey Hopper, Conrad Johnson, 1 unnamed victim

I am not going to deny that being a white male hasn’t allowed me to sidestep a whole level of *******
One day, angry white males will be the minority
And we’ll have no one left to blame, but ourselves.
If we don’t **** everyone first
If we don’t **** ourselves first

Michael Arnold, Martin Bodrog, Arthur Daniels, Sylvia Frasier, Kathy Gaarde, John Roger Johnson, Mary Francis Knight, Frank Kohler, Vishnu Pandit, Kenneth Bernard Proctor, Gerald Read, Richard Michael Ridgell

Jonathan Blunk, Alexander J. Boik , Jesse Childress, Gordon Cowden,
Jessica Ghawi, John Larimer, Matt McQuinn, Micayla Medek, Veronica Moser Sullivan, Alex Sullivan, Alexander C. Teves, Rebecca Wingo

The earth has already decided that we are a plague upon it
Maybe climate change is the natural response to the abuse of our gifts

Nancy Lanza, Rachel D'Avino, Dawn Hochsprung, Anne Marie Murphy,
Lauren Rousseau, Mary Sherlach, Victoria Leigh Soto, Charlotte Bacon, Daniel Barden, Olivia Engel, Josephine Gay, Dylan Hockley, Madeleine Hsu, Catherine Hubbard, Chase Kowalski, Jesse Lewis, Ana Márquez Greene, James Mattioli, Grace McDonnell, Emilie Parker, Jack Pinto, Noah Pozner, Caroline Previdi, Jessica Rekos, Avielle Richman, Benjamin Wheeler, Allison Wyatt

What is this world going to teach my son?
That he’s better because of how he looks?
Or what I’ve taught him:
You make yourself better.

Jamie Bishop, Jocelyne Couture Nowak, Kevin Granata, Liviu Librescu,  P
G. V. Loganathan, Ross Alameddine, Brian Bluhm, Ryan Clark, Austin Cloyd, Daniel Perez Cueva, Matthew Gwaltney, Caitlin Hammaren, Jeremy Herbstritt, Rachael Hill, Emily Hilscher, Matthew La Porte, Jarrett Lane, Henry Lee, Partahi Lumbantoruan, Lauren McCain, Daniel O'Neil, Juan Ortiz, Minal Panchal, Erin Peterson, Michael Pohle Jr., Julia Pryde, Mary Karen Read, Reema Samaha, Waleed Shaalan, Leslie Sherman, Maxine Turner, Nicole White

I work as a data analyst
So, I ran the numbers
But, these are more than numbers
These are people: sons, daughters, sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, friends, lovers.

Stanley Almodovar III, Amanda Alvear, Oscar A. Aracena Montero, Rodolfo Ayala Ayala, Alejandro Barrios Martinez, Martin Benitez Torres, Antonio D. Brown, Darryl R. Burt II, Jonathan A. Camuy Vega, Angel L. Candelario Padro, Simon A. Carrillo Fernandez, Juan Chevez Martinez, Luis D. Conde, Cory J. Connell, Tevin E. Crosby, Franky J. DeJesus Velazquez, Deonka D. Drayton, Mercedez M. Flores, Juan R. Guerrero, Peter O. Gonzalez Cruz, Paul T. Henry, Frank Hernandez, Miguel A. Honorato, Javier Jorge Reyes, Jason B. Josaphat, Eddie J. Justice, Anthony L. Laureano Disla, Christopher A. Leinonen, Brenda L. Marquez McCool, Jean C. Mendez Perez, Akyra Monet Murray, Kimberly Morris, Jean C. Nives Rodriguez, Luis O. Ocasio Capo, Geraldo A. Ortiz Jimenez, Eric I. Ortiz Rivera, Joel Rayon Paniagua, Enrique L. Rios Jr., Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan, Christopher J. Sanfeliz, Xavier E. Serrano Rosado, Gilberto R. Silva Menendez, Edward Sotomayor Jr., Shane E. Tomlinson, Leroy Valentin Fernandez, Luis S. Vielma, Luis D. Wilson Leon, Jerald A. Wright

I did research to try to find all the victims since I became abruptly aware 16 years ago
There are too many
I could not discover a single database that contained a comprehensive record
No one can keep track of it anymore
I know I’ve missed people
I know there are 1000’s of people now missing people
Even 1 was too much

Hannah Ahlers, Heather Alvarado, Dorene Anderson, Carrie Barnette, Jack Beaton, Steve Berger, Candice Bowers, Denise Salmon Burditus, Sandra Casey, Andrea Castilla, Denise Cohen, Austin Davis, Virginia Day Jr, Christiana Duarte, Stacee Etcheber, Brian Fraser, Keri Galvan,  Dana Gardner, Angela Gomez, Rocio Guillen Rocha, Charleston Hartfield,  Chris Hazencomb, Jennifer Irvine, Nicol Kimura, Jessica Klymchuk, Carly Kreibaum, Rhonda LeRocque, Victor Link, Jordan McIldoon, Kelsey Meadows, Calla Medig, James ‘Sonny’ Melton, Pati Mestas, Austin Meyer, Adrian Murfitt, Rachael Parker, Jennifer Parks, Carrie Parsons, Lisa Patterson,  John Phippen, Melissa Ramirez, Jordyn Rivera, Quinton Robbins, Cameron Robinson, Lisa Romero Muniz, Christopher Roybal, Brett Schwanbeck, Bailey Schweitzer, Laura Shipp, Erick Silva, Susan Smith, Tara Roe Smith, Brennan Stewart, Derrick ‘Bo’ Taylor, Neysa Tonks, Michelle Vo, Kurt Von Tillow, Bill Wolfe Jr.

and NOW I’ve run out of lines and time to read off all 2,977 people who died in 9-11
Isn’t that a tragedy?

You were not raised in violence.
When you were eight, a boy told you that you were weak.
You never thought of yourself in that way before that moment.

You were strong.
Not as strong as your older brothers, but strong enough to throw the ball back and push them when they were mean to you.

You were fast.
Though not as fast as your brothers,
who had longer legs and better lungs,
who stretched ahead, but always looked back,
who never teased you for being lesser.

When the boy at the park told you that he bet you couldn't throw a punch,
you slugged him as hard as you could in his stomach.
He laughed.
You blinked back frustrated tears and hit him harder, faster.
Your friends pulled you away, and you all promised never to tell your mothers.

You were not raised in violence, but you want to know why there are boys who are beaten and kicked,
when the bullies don't raise a hand to you.
You want to know why the others are less than you.

You are twelve, and you fall in love with a girl.
Even though you think you are one.
You tell her in whispers that you might be a boy, and she says she'll love you either way.

You break up a month later.
You're not sure you ever loved her.

You are thirteen, and you date the girl again.
You have short hair now,
refuse to have it long because it feels Wrong.
You quit the soccer team because for the first time,
you're the slowest one on the team,
and your breath comes out in wheezing gasps.
You are afraid of what this means.
The doctors tell you it's asthma.

You are still thirteen, when you tell your parents you've been a boy this whole time and are very sorry for not telling them sooner.
Your mom says she supports you,
but she still won't let you change your name legally or start hormones you need.
You wonder if she really loves you.

Your ma is proud of you,
but you knew she would understand.
She wants your mom to understand.
They fight through you, and you want it to stop.

It has only been a month, and you meet a new girl.
Her hair is red as the fire you build to keep warm on cool summer nights.
You think she's the most beautiful person you've ever seen.
She tells you she loves you.
You love her.

You want to run away from home,
your mom is too much to deal with and you want to go away.
But you don't.
You think you hate your mother, and you tell her so.
She cries.
You regret it.
You didn't mean it.

You were not raised in violence, but in September you try to take your life.
You wonder for months why you faked and acted like you were fine, conning your way out of the hospital before they could help you.

It's November now, almost December, and you need new shoes.
Your feet are too small and your features too soft and the clerk thinks you're a girl.
You tell Sarah how much you hate this,
and she tells you that you're too sensitive and should be happy that at least she doesn't know what it's like to hate everything about yourself,
to cry yourself to sleep every night,
because your body is wrong and you want out of it.

You feel betrayed.
You break up with her that night.
You cry a lot.
She apologizes.
She begs for you to take her back.
You cry.
You refuse.
She tells you that she's the best thing that will ever happen to you.
That no one will love you like she did.
She's right, people don't love the same way.
You block her number anyways.

You were not raised in violence, but you want so badly to be in some now.
You look for fights everywhere you go,
and curse yourself for never finding the opportunities.

You hear about Mike Brown and Tamir Rice and Eric Garner,
and you want justice so badly it burns under your skin.
Your mother won't let you go to protests.
You sit at home and wonder how you never realized you grew up in violence all along.

You were raised in violence, but shielded from it.
You remember a crazed homeless man insisting that your ma was a man in drag.
You remember realizing that your mother steered you away from the homeless on the sidewalks out of disgust, rather than rational fear.
You remember that day with the boy in the park.

You were raised in violence and you are not afraid to face it,
but your mother still is.

You were raised in violence.
You shout your differences as loudly as you can.
A war cry.
A dare.
You hope someone will realize you were never better than those boys who came home from school with bruises and black eyes.
They never do.
You don't know why.

-J.M.

Compassion informs my outrage,

Skinny black kid,
super sensitive
playing the violin
for kittens,
pacifist vegetarian
tried to tell policemen
“I am not violent.
I’m an introvert.
I am different,”
as they choked him
then had paramedics
dose him
with ketamine.

Buds of pain
do not bloom
but burst, spray,
and sprain
my brain
that was self-trained
in the art of
kindness and reason.

It takes
less than five minutes
to break a mother’s heart,
to tare her world apart,
to shatter and claim
that they are not to blame
after unloading a full clip
on an autistic thirteen-year-old
who wasn’t mentally equipped
to do exactly what he was told.

Love and mercy
should rule the day
but cops make
violence great again.
Human suffering
is not magic
just unnecessarily tragic. cont.

Micheal Brown,
Eric Garner,
Tamir Rice,
George Floyd,
Freddy Gray,
Breonna Taylor,
Elijah Mcclain,
Linden Cameron,
Jacob Blake,
and so many other names.
There has to be a better way.

Tamir is Israeli. I don't know what that means beyond he speaks Hebrew, came at one point from that area, and keeps dark-skinned friends.

I'm trying to cultivate a lethal talent
because one day I want to **** people
by painting them as they are

(and when you're known
as yourself
you have
nothing else)

but all my days are micro montages, characters
grandiose, come and go
drink a beer, do a line, perhaps
chat about the politics of
Germany France UK Belgium a
little high.
and then they go.


this is a great city on maybe
the world's longest coast
and odds are tomorrow, 87%, the whole day will be
grey and fog and a halfdark cloak
with a sort of haphazard mist that isn't rain, but
somehow in the grey condenses enough to
slippen tiles, dampen jackets, water roses
where everywhere it blow.


within four weeks men in black jackets, ties
sunglasses and training will come for me
and though I have accomplished much and
in a way am capable I
will try and throw myself from a nearby cliff and I
dream at night of the *****, of
wonder how far out I'd have to leap
to hit the highway below.
(and honestly politely hoping I
don't disrupt too much traffic when I go)


because there is a life lived and a life worth living and this
molecular decomposition holds
no loyalty on me. but I guess I had some
faith that I would live to....
that I would live.


I saw my life a grand tapestry. thought my
idolatry would eventually
coalesce into at least one great novel, Bildungsroman, tale of
development and
I guess that's been taken away from me.

and I've prepared ill-ly only exercised in
beat/postmodern poetry. l will
maybe soon stumble from the cliffs or
handcuffed bite my wrists, and
take any artery I might rend open

and all particles, unfettered, heartless bits. nonwritten novel, this is it...

there is the west and then there is the ocean.

when i say
**** the police
i do not feel obligated
to justify or quantify an
assertion that seems
fundamentally apparent to me
i do not find it necessary
to recount the endless horrors and
psychological terrors visited upon
ordinary men and women
nor do i deem it essential
to my personal ethos of
mutual dignity and
profound respect to
needlessly revere those
behind the badges
and the guns
i just see pigs dressed in blue
prove me wrong

i'm still waiting

when i say
**** the police
there's just one thing
i hope you understand
i do not detest the finger on the trigger
nor the hamfisted hand shoveling
Krispy Kream donuts
into a bottomless gullet
nor the fist clutching the baton
pummeling the peaceful protestor
who gave a riot-geared narc
a bouquet of flowers
nor the thumb emitting mace into
the unsuspecting face of a teenage girl
with a hot-pink mohawk

i do not mean offense when i remark
officer
your mustache reminds me of a walrus or
officer
were you the high school bully or
officer
can you direct me to nearest KKK meeting
please and thanks

so when i say
unequivocally
**** the police
know that it is because i detest
a racist misogynistic homophobic
apparatus of institutionalized oppression
that harasses the marginalized
as it butchers youth of color
and masks the misdeeds of its privileged elite in
a fraternity that utterly disregards morality

when i say
**** the police
it's 'cause i realize that absolute power
corrupts absolutely but the same
could be said for even a modicum
of power that twists and churns
and transforms the best of us into
vicious caricatures of humanity
the fissures of hegemony are exposed

as hierarchy crumbles we find inside us
the power to extol truth
even when it's unpopular

and say
**** the police
'cause they're too lazy to use
their words when the State gives
them a gun and
a license to ****
all charges will drop
because the only police who police
the police are the police

when i say
**** the police
it's because the State uses fear
to control its subjects
in hopes we won't realize
we don't need them
they keep us scared of one another
of the demons hiding in the dark
focus our terror on the monsters
lurking underneath our beds rather
than the Feds driving down I4 with
firearms strapped to their hips

when i say
**** the police
it's because it has not
escaped my notice
that the U.S. has the largest
prison population per capita of
any nation in the world due
to draconian laws governing
the use and abuse of substances
and i may be straight edge but
i'll be the first to point out
that the State's manufacturing new slaves
with its arbitrary arrests over ***

so i say
**** the police
because i remember
my brothers and sisters
who swine stole from this Earth
though i wager i'd never meet them
i'm certain their so-called criminal behavior
certainly did not merit an execution

and contrary to popular belief
black lives matter
so pull your head out of the sand
with that
all lives matter
hog-wash and open your ears for just a second

brother Michael Brown shot
down in Ferguson for walking
along the middle of the street

Eric Garner
strangled by a narc
accused of selling loose
cigarettes after dark

Sandra Bland failed to use her turn
signal and we discovered her later
hanging from a rope
like Roxanne Gay said
even if she killed herself
white hands are still locked around her throat

Trayvon Martin dared to wear a hoodie
and trespass in an affluent community
for failing to return to the ghetto
a vigilante **** sent him to the morgue

twelve-year-old Tamir Rice
played cops-n-robbers in his lawn  
no one stopped to tell him
its the boys-n-blue
who're robbing young kids of their lives
with bullets packed tight in their 9's

over 860 men women and children
killed by thugs draped in red white and blue
in these first 9 months of 2015 alone

so when i say
**** the police
i say so out of a sincere conviction
that there will be no peace until we get
some ******* justice
and i know the State Department's supplying
our masters with leftover gear from its
exorbitant multi-trillion dollar wars
M-16s tear gas flashbangs,
body armor HumVees tanks
rubber bullets surveillance kits and small arms
to suppress dissent and smash
lawful assembly with violence
but when they order us to cease and disperse
or suffer arrest
we'll have three words poised on our lips
**** the police

...I just need to vent cause I feel like all these events are relentless...never ending in my eyes so I try to disguise my pain
Being black is exhausting but I realize that my eyes are still on the prize
Synthesized in my mind that I'm less than what I am
I push forward...maximum capacity I fathom thee opening of a plethora of new beginnings
I'm a phenomenal woman but I'm beat down...torn down...worn down
My place of homage is showing me it ain't safe to live here no more
Vacate the primacies
Shut down...lock down anyway possible
Shacked down even by our minds so far deep we don't know how to break free
So being black is so freaking exhausting
Gotta make sure everyone is comfortable around you cuz your tint is slightly darker
Don't **** nobody of cuz you may not come home
Driving while black you may not come home
Walking while black you may not come home
Eating out while black hey you just may not get good service
Social injustice flashes before our eyes everyday like a virtual reality...game but it's a shame that it's become our reality that we gotta play
It's not about panda or Timmy turner cause at the end of the day that ain't real
I see reels and reels of Trayvon Martin, Sandra Bland, Michael Brown, Eric Gardner, Tanisha Anderson, Tamir Rice, and the list goes on
But I WILL NOT WRITE MY SUICIDE NOTE!!
My people it's valid to be angry but fight with your mind
Keep your eyes on God
Even though sometimes you forget then you remember the harsh realities that consume your mind
Then you find your back in that hole that God seems to hold you up in
"Thank you Father for your saving grace that you never seem to misplace"
I can never culminate all my feelings into one shallow place
So I put my fist up till the victory is won
Even though the feeling still pierces my soul like shard glass
Being black is stressful!
Negating the fact that I'm just as good as you
Beating me down so low that I believe it to be true
So I live it
Push through it everyday
As I cry my tears I gain more strength
I'm the hulk
No time to sulk
**** them with your poise and knowledge
Don't let your anger make you be stupid
There's beauty in my brokenness
Let it bleed through these words as I emerge a serge of a glimpse of my pain
Let the towns of blackness rain through my veins as I bleed my pain on this page
I can't let my self stand and be enraged
Caged in a sound of my life's repeated tracks in my head
Yeah being black is a trying experience but I keep my soul lifted up!
So this isn't my suicide note but a warning to those who persecute me!!
YOU WILL NOT WIN!!
FISTS UP!!

They stopped killing us as slaves and started killing us as citizens
When citizens meant slaves but just to a different system
Because the system wanted to give us a taste
A whole new creation of black men and women who know the taste of bullets
Because bullets are the backbone of their existence
Piercing through their backs and their children's
Tell me you’re sorry but it has to be like this
200 years of slavery and we still live like this
I’m constantly asking myself when I die will I be anything more
Than a hashtag and a sweatshirt with my face on it?
Will I still be shackled to the blackness that’s been a magnet for ammunition?
A magnet for the hands that cuff me before I never made a bad decision?
A human designed for target practice?
Told to prove the way the world looks at me wrong
When the quality of my life has already been determined
When we’re arrested for crimes we didn’t commit and over packed into prisons
When the ghettos are already built so they can leave us to be deserted in
When my neighbor’s body is already laying in the street
When Trayvon’s already been dead for over six years
When Danye Jones is left hanging from a tree like from centuries ago
Told “Just don’t be Black”
Because being Black is a threat
You say you shoot to protect
But my people have been starved since the day we were stolen
Taught to work in the white man’s world but never to rise above him
Taught our culture is ugly unless it’s appropriated and copied
Upon this platform built on the backs of my ancestors hung like decorations
Do I know a single black body in America that isn’t scared?
Do I know a single black body in America that isn’t told by this country
Not to be Black
Because being Black is a threat
So you box us inside of a stereotype until we become colorless
Born into a cycle of fearing my life because you hate my skin
While white men are left free to Las Vegas, Pittsburgh, Parkland,
Orlando, Charlottesville, Kentucky, Charleston
Told not to be Black
Because the white man is the threat
They dig Black into our brains enough and they hope we forget
That George Zimmerman was found not guilty
Tamir Rice was less than thirteen
That being Black in America is the slowest genocide in history
To not breathe because they’d rather see us die of suffocation
Gentrification because we can't taste freedom
Because freedom tastes like lead casings
Freedom means walking down the street but not being able to do it after evening
Or anytime if it means wearing a durag or hood or black skin
Freedom means beatings
And freedom means bleeding
Bleeding until five officers have gotten enough kicks at Rodney King
Until Martin Luther King's killer feels like the dream has died with him
Freedom is bleeding
And freedom is - - - breathing heavy because I’m running and they still claim to be “policing”
They still claim to be policing
I’m - running and they still claim to be policing
I’m - - - breathing, I’m running, I’m bleeding
… I’m bleeding

Where I'm from
Most kids have never heard the words
"We can't afford that."
Where I'm from
Is marked by men in business suits
Who always seem to work a little too late
Where I'm from
No love for my curves.
"Are you really going to eat that?"
My largeness makes me a target
Where I'm from
Closet bulimics
Binge drink and purge in the morning
Fakeness is the measure of success
Why do you think the popular girls all look the same anyway?
Where I'm from
They act like choosing between a salad and a burger
Is actually a ******* decision.
Where I'm from
****** problem
Know at least three people who lost the light in their eyes
Because the monster blew out the candle
Where I'm from
It might as well be snowing year round
The people are so cold and white
Where I'm from
Nearly every parent is a narcissist
Believes their child is the next Ronald Reagan
He is their idol, after all
Where I'm from
There is no "two-party system"
Republicans win every local election
Where I'm from
They value the sanctity of life
Until one of those lives is an unarmed person of color
Then their tongues become laced with haughtiness and gunpowder
Where I'm from
Makes excuses for bad cops
Welcome to Small Town, America
Where we decorate our racism with jewelry
That way, no one knows the extent of its ugliness
Where I'm from
I ask questions, get shot down
Like Trayvon's body as it lies like an arrow in the street
Why is his life worth less than mine?
Where I'm from
Thinks abortion is ******
If we care so much about babies
Why do we not care that Tamir Rice was twelve
When his last breath was forced from his collapsing lungs?
A baby.
Where I'm from
My privilege becomes a loaded gun
But I will not fire
I try to keep the safety on
Safety on
Because I know I have the potential
To act on the only way of existing
That I have been taught
Where I'm from
At least half my friends' parents were divorced
I was told lying to get ahead
Is better than speaking up
Here is my voice for those who have been silenced by oppression
Where I'm from
Has shown me you cannot outgrow your bloodline
I have betrayal in my background
This is who I was meant to be
Where I'm from
They taught me to pray
So I pray daily
That these hands with the potential to shoot
Will instead pave roads for people
Who cannot currently walk down the street
Without the fear of taking their last steps.

According to what I’ve been told
The voice of God is deep like a river,
does not quiver, and would never have
my gay lisp.
It rumbles in its righteous wrath while simultaneously
Whispering to all the sleeping children in America.
I have nodded my head in agreement
But I’ve secretly tried my best to              
Rearrange His pronouns.

From what I’ve heard,
The voice I should hear would be located somewhere
between my ears
Or behind my sternum.
However, the only voice I’ve heard
Coming from those places
Has sounded oddly vague and often undecided,
What a funny way to describe
The sound of a prowling lion!
Ha!    

If you would like me to be honest with you
The voice of God does not sound like a Father, a Son,
Or even a pale benevolent Ghost.
Because of this
I try to wrangle it into the throat of
my grandfather
or at least the mouth of
Morgan Freeman,
But it just hollers and squawks and eventually I find
That it wiggles out of
My bunched up fists
And perches in the rafters, smirking,
Always just out of reach!

When I am listening for it
it doesn’t sound like a voice at all.
In fact, it sounds oddly like
The throb of veins in my temples
Or the ocean of air
Harnessed by the gravity of
My lungs.

I do not explain it in those terms
to most people
Because I’m afraid they’ll figure out
That I'm the kind of person who
Smokes ***.

Maybe somewhere in my doughy brain
A battery has rotted into a pool of acid
Or one single electrical chord has wriggled free
From the gaping mouth and geometric eyes
of its socket.

Even still, would you believe me when I say
no one has heard God speak?
Not even Moses!
But I am sure even he
(and especially Tagore)
have heard God’s voice.
Yes, that must be right!

My friend heard it on the sidewalk
just last week.
This man let out a primal grunt
After he kissed his boyfriend and
A stranger stabbed him in the shoulder.  

No! Actually I hear it often
from cousin Tamir;
The one whose vocal chords no longer
Clap joyously together.
Somehow I can still watch as it thunders and crashes
with uncompromising power
Across sterile court rooms and silent mothers.

But please, don’t stop there! That’s almost right but it’s not
everything.
I think the smell of Auntie Walker’s breath
could contain at least
One syllable.

What I know about God’s voice is that it is
set loose by everything.
It shakes and dances and tickles the bellies
Of everyone
And everything
that lives in this holy space.

My head, my heart, and
All the fathers on the earth cannot contain it to
A single bass.  

My only prayer is that maybe
God’s voice wouldn’t always sound so deep to
the people who have told me this.
I pray to God,
Whoever she is,
That she would let her words
land upon the vibrations of my own
gay lisp
From time to time.

dabnagit  Travel back to before the nation began
and see Crispus Attucks killed — the
first American to die for American freedom, a freedom denied to his African and Native American forebears. Take a knee to honor his sacrifice and the other four dead.

Take a knee in grief that he who would become president minimized these first martyrs as "a motley rabble of saucy boys, negros and molattoes, Irish teagues and outlandish Jack Tarrs.”

Stand at Morris Island, South Carolina, where American soldiers fought to keep a young nation whole, a field of blue with 35 stars, not 22. Take a knee for the 54th Massachusetts Voluntary Infantry and its score killed at Fort Wagner, a hundred more presumed dead.

Take a knee in grief that the U.S. Army rescinded its promise of equality and paid the 54th little more than half a white soldier's monthly pay. Take a knee in awe at those who refused any pay that was less, yet died with "Massachusetts and Seven Dollars a Month!" on their lips, defending their white comrsdes' retreat.

Take a knee for Sgt. Medgar Evers, who defeated fascists at Normandy only to be killed by them once he was back home.

Take a knee from the suckerpunch by a U.S. senator from Mississippi in 1917, who said the return of black veterans would “inevitably lead to disaster.” Once you “impress the ***** with the fact that he is defending the flag” and “inflate his untutored soul with military airs,” it would be easy for him to conclude “his political rights must be respected.” Take a knee to honor those who died defending freedom. Take a knee to weep for the sharp rise in lynchings after both world wars — following the return of those impressed, untutored ***** souls inflated with military airs for having served.

Look at the lists, look at the videos, look at the witness testimony, look at the double standard: Amadou Diallo. Manuel Loggins Jr. Ronald Madison. Kendra James. Sean Bell. Eric Garner. Michael Brown. Alton Sterling. Philando Castile. (Take a knee; this could take awhile.) Akiel Denkins. Gregory Gunn. Samuel DuBose. Brendon Glenn. Freddie Gray. Natasha McKenna. Walter Scott. Christian Taylor. Ezell Ford. Akai Gurley. Laquan McDonald. (Take a breath.) Tamir Rice. Yvette Smith. Jamar Clark. Rekia Boyd. Shereese Francis. Ramarley Graham. LaTanya Haggerty. Margaret LaVerne Mitchell. And on and on. And on.

Take a knee for the unarmed, or subdued, or even fleeing men and women killed by officers pledged to protect and serve. Take a knee too for the officers killed by gun-toting gangsters…or by homeowners fearing a home invasion. While you're at it, take a knee for the more than 50 people killed every year by toddlers exercising their Second Amendment rights.

And take a knee for the soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines who died so that a football player can take a knee as long as some people are shot by police in the back, or even when down, or even after they're on their knees…while others for some reason are far less likely to be shot in the same circumstances. Take a knee, Rodin-like, and ponder why.

Take a knee and join those who are taking a knee out of respect not only for the flag, but for the republic for which it stands, one nation…

(Striving to be a more perfect union)

…under God…

(Who "created all men equal"; "male and female he created them.")

…indivisible…

("Build that wall!" "Lock her up!" "Fire the sons of ******* if they won't stand for this flag but run them over if they protest a rebel flag!")

…with liberty and justice for all lives can't matter unless black lives matter.

So for these all, and many more, take a knee. Take your time, but take some heart. Then lift each other up and lock your arms. Play ball.

I close my eyes and pray. I hope we see the day,
That all this **** wastes away.
I try to contemplate the same reason I stayed. Hoping not to be afraid.
We empty the soil of our lifeless graves. And still we're the still the same.
Yeah, I know we've had enough.
Oppressors with handcuffs,
Professors that ****** us and the school system that kills us.
I realize that this corruption always was.
But now in this time all the lifeless cries are adding up.
Unarmed. And dead.
The trauma in our heads, The damage said.
TRAYVON MARTIN Walking home when Zimmerman shot him.
KEITH SCOTT Sitting in car, reading.
Shot and killed, bleeding,
ATATIANA JEFFERSON Looking out her window,
Shot by police who was supposed to be protecting her though
JORDAN EDWARDS Riding in a car.
Shot in the head by police went way too far
JONATHAN FERRELL Asking for help after auto accident. Shot twelve times by police,
Facts I can't stand. This should not be our reality
STEPHON CLARK Holdng a cellphone.Things you can't condone.
Shot 8 times It is a extreme crime. Officers not charged. a unjustice at large.
AMADOU DIALLO While taking out wallet, screamed stop it.
Four officers fired 41 shots,  another death added to the profit
RENISHA MCBRIDE Auto accident, This **** I can't stand.
Knocked on door for help. Another perceived racist added to the shelf
Homeowner was found guilty of second-degree ******.
You can't change the past just know how he hurt her
TAMIR RICE Playing with toy gun, no justice for someone's son
Shot and killed by police officer arriving on scene.
Yeah you may not believe it. but it happened see it
SEAN BELL Hosting a bachelor party, this is our reality
50 rounds fired by police officers, who were found not guilty.
Another sin you don't see
WALTER SCOTT Pulled over for brake light,
Shot in the back by police officer who lost his mind.
Another unjust on civil rights
PHILANDO CASTILE Pulled over in car, this went too far.
Told officer he had a legally registered weapon in car.
Shot and killed. No justice instilled
AIYANA JONES  Sleeping, shot and killed by officer in a raid on the wrong apartment.
Justice has lost it. Officer cleared of all charges.
TERRENCE CRUTCHER Disabled vehicle, another death of the people.
Shot and killed. No way to heal
ALTON STERLING Selling CDs, shot at close range while being arrested.
No justice. We can't make sense of this
FREDDIE GRAY Beaten to death while in police custody.
Another way of the oppressed, can't you see
JOHN CRAWFORD Shopping at WalMart,  where are our hearts
shot and killed for holding a BB gun on sale,
Again no justice and sin prevailed
OSCAR GRANT Handcuffed and face-down, officer shot him in the back.
Not even carrying a strap. sadness in its wraps
AHMAUD AUBREY Jogging, Heart stopping just cause of perceived injustice.
Jaw dropping but it doesn't end there
GEORGE FLOYD. Killed by officer who made sin his choice
Hate we can't avoid but one thing we can deploy is the truth.
That these are people too.
Say their names and reconize the pain

We will never forget the names of those
Who should have been known for so much more.

Sandra Bland. George Floyd. Tamir Rice. Riah Milton. James Scurlock. Rem'Mie Fells. Breonna Taylor. Too many to name. 400 years.

We remember them for all they could have been.
Not martyrs. Murdered.
People living and then gone forever.

White supremacy is not poetic. It is a blunt instrument.
We must fight it every day.

Let’s pay homage to many innocent black lives that were taken by
the corrupt system:  Martin Luther King Jr.  Malcom X.  Emmett Till.  George Stinney.  Will Brown.  Sandra Bland.  Trayvon Martin.  Ahmaud Arbery.  Breonna Taylor. George Floyd.  David McAtee.  Natosha “Tony” McDade.  Yassin Mohamed.  Finan H. Berhe.  Sean Reed.  Steven Demarco Taylor.  Ariane McCree.  Terrance Franklin.  Miles Hall.  Darius Tarver.  William Green.  Samuel David Mallard.  Kwame “KK” Jones.  De’von Bailey.  Christopher Whitfield.  Anthony Hill.  Eric Logan.  Jamarion Robinson.  Gregory Hill Jr.  JaQuavion Slaton.  Ryan Twyman.  Brandon Webber.  Jimmy Atchison.  Willie McCoy.  Emantic “Ej” Fitzgerald Bradford Jr.  D’ettrick Griffin.  Jemel Roberson.  DeAndre Ballard.  Botham Shem Jean.  Robert Lawrence White.  Anthony Lamar Smith.  Ramarley Graham.  Manuel Loggins Jr.  Wendell Allen.  Kendrec McDade.  Larry Jackson Jr.  Jonathan Ferrell.  Jordan Baker.  Victor White III.  Dontre Hamilton.  Eric Garner.  John Crawford III.  Michael Brown.  Ezell Ford.  Dante Parker.  Kajieme Powell.  Laquan McDonald.  Akai Gurley.  Tamir Rice.  Rumain Brisbon.  Tony Robinson.  Mario Woods.  Quintonio LeGrier.  Gregory Gunn.  Akiel Denkins.  Alton Sterling.  Philando Castile.  Terrance Sterling.  Terrence Crutcher.  Keith Lamont Scott.  Alfred Olango.  Jordan Edwards.  Stephon Clark.  Danny Ray Thomas.  Dejuan Guillory.  Patrick Harmon.  Jonathan Hart.  Maurice Granton.  Julius Johnson.  Jamee Johnson.  Michael Dean.  Keith Childress.  Bettie Jones.  Kevin Matthews.  Michael Noel.  Leroy Browning.  Leroy Nelson.  Miguel Espinal.  Nathaniel Pickett.  Tiara Thomas.  Cornelius Brown.  Jamal Clark.  Richard Perkins.  Michael Lee Marshall.  Alonzo Smith.  Anthony Ashford.  Dominic Hutchinson.  Lamontez Jones.  Rayshaun Cole.  Paterson Brown.  Christopher Kimble.  Junior Prosper.  Keith McLeod.  Wayne Wheeler.  Lavante Biggs.  India Kager.  Tyree Crawford.  James Carney.  Felix Kumi.  Asshams Manley.  Christian Taylor.  Troy Robinson.  Brian Day.  Michael Sabbie.  Billy Ray Davis.  Samuel Dubose.  Darrius Stewart.  Albert Davis.  Salvado Ellswood.  George Mann.  Jonathan Sanders.  Freddie Blue.  Victo Larosa.  Spencer McCain.  Kevin Bajoie.  Zamiel Crawford.  Jermaine Benjamin.  Kris Jackson.  Kevin Higgenbotham.  Ross Anthony.  Richard Gregory Davis.  Curtis Jordan.  Markus Clark.  Lorenzo Hayes.  De’Angelo Stallsworth.  Dajuan Graham.  Brandon Glenn.  Reginald Moore.  Nuwnah Laroche.  Jason Champion.  Bryan Overstreet.  David Felix.  Terry Lee Chatman.  William Chapman.  Samuel Harrell.  Freddie Gray.  Norman Cooper.  Brian Acton.  Darrell Brown.  Frank Shephard III.  Walter Scott.  Donald “Dontay” Ivy.  Eric Harris.  Phillip White.  Dominick Wise.  Jason Moland.  Bobby Gross.  Denzel Brown.  Brandon Jones.  Askari Roberts.  Terrance Moxley.  Anthony Hill.  Bernard Moore.  Naeschylus Vinzant.  Tony Robinson.  Charly Leundeu “Africa” Keunang.  Darrell Gatewood.  Deontre Dorsey.  Thomas Allen Jr.  Lavall Hall.  Calvon Reid.  Gerdie Moise.  Terry Price.  Natasha McKenna.  Jeremy Lett.  Kevin Garrett.  Alvin Haynes.  Artago Damon Howard.  Tiano Meton.  Andre Larone Murphy Sr.  Leslie Sapp.  Brian Pickett.  Frank Smart.  Matthew Ajibade.

There are so many more that have died at the hands of the prejudice system.  All of you will never be forgotten.  Your legacy will forever live on.  Rest in Paradise to the fallen angels.

i couldn’t tell you the number of times they’ve told me
my family of seven
numbers only five.

i couldn’t tell you the number of times they’ve told me,
“they’re NOT YOUR BROTHERS.
lydia is your sister, but they’re BLACK.
they can’t be part of your family,”
though all three are adopted.

i couldn’t tell you the number of times they’ve looked
at my family as if it is BROKEN,
believing there’s NO WAY
those two little boys with DARK skin
belong in that family with WHITE skin, brown hair, and blue eyes,
the perfect depiction of a german family.

this is my REALITY.

it TERRIFIES me,

watching them look

watching them
see
   nothing
               but
                      the
                           skin
                                 that
                                       is
                                          darker
                                                    than
                                                           their
                                                                   own.

no one ever questions that my little sister
with her FAIR skin is my sister,
but when they see my brothers,
they don’t understand how we’re related.

in what world do we live
that this PREJUDICE is allowed?
in what world do we live
that JUDGING people simply by their color is acceptable?

they say that it isn’t,
that they don’t do it,
that they know black people—are even friends with a few—
so there’s no way that they’re RACIST.

and
    yet,
          it
      happens
                             every
                                         day.

we see it on the news all too frequently
but brush it off as insignificant,
somebody else’s problem.

PHILANDO CASTILE.
TARIKA WILSON.
LAQUAN MCDONALD.
REKIA BOYD.
OSCAR GRANT.
AIYANA JONES.   
ORLANDO BARLOW.
SEAN BELL.
MICHAEL BROWN.
YVETTE SMITH.
BOTHAM JEAN.
ERIC GARNER.
TAMIR RICE.
GEORGE FLOYD.

maybe you recognize these names.
these names are only a fraction of UNARMED african americans—
men, women, even children—
KILLED because police FEARED
the COLOR of their skin.

how can we allow this to happen?

they excuse racism, claiming it ceased long ago,
saying that because there are laws against segregation,
that because those laws were enacted,
people automatically follow them.  

then
      WHY
                 do
                     you
                            know
                               ­       these
                                               names?


i hope to one day live in a world
where I don’t have to fear for my brothers’ lives as they grow older.
a world where I know
they won’t have to fight RACISM and PREJUDICES while following their dreams.

i hope to one day live in a world
where we see more than just the color of someone’s skin.
a world where we can learn to ACCEPT and LOVE,
appreciating diversity.

i hope to one day live in a world
where my family is seen as just that,
a FAMILY. a WHOLE, LOVING FAMILY
regardless of the color of my brothers’ skin.

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

I really hate to get political
But the evil over my head is becoming much too literal
Not visceral, the rhetoric, it ain’t even subliminal
At this point in our history, this **** is going critical
Nearly three centuries, our people were enslaved
Terrorized for another one, locked up, put in graves
Segregation, Jim Crow, you already know
That’s how America goes, but we ain’t the only ones done *****
By the law of the land, the native genocide, cultures erased
By their hand, my latino brothers being thrown in a camp
Just like the Japanese a few decades ago
Non white ethnicities turn into a threat
By those who say America is a bastion of hope
Because they reached for a rope and ****** all of these people
With impunity, we ain’t getting nowhere cause there’s no unity
And it’s only getting worse thanks to president chump
Wait I meant president dump, hope fate gives him a lump
He’s the picture of cancer spreading through our country
Make America great again? How can you not see
This place was never a home for the people like me
There was never moment in time without a division
The birth of a nation? More like the birth of a prison

We’re stuck in these communities that keep breeding crime
Denied equal opportunities time after time
If you think it’s over, nah, it’s more carefully hidden
In corporations, politicians, the laws have been written
Three strikes, stand your ground, and mandatory minimums
They keep us down or dead, keep us sipping on their venoms
We’ve stayed criminalized since we got out them chains
Thrown right back in the system and corporations get paid
They’re the new masters, and prisons are fields
You’re deluding yourself if you think we are healed
And this “war” that they're waging, it’s not a war on drugs
It’s a war on minorities, not a war on thugs, it’s a war on love

They murdered our leaders, gunned down in their beds
So we couldn’t defend ourselves, our civil rights have just bled
Our people, we were wealth, whites got to keep it
Our ancestors sowed it, today we don't reap it
And the wealth gap keeps growing day after day
There’s no honest day’s work for fair ******* pay
Discrimination in loans, we’re still trapped in our homes

And one third of my brothers will have to see the inside
That’s the statistic for us, for the white boy that rides
Right next to me, it's one in seventeen
The American dream?
More like the American scheme
There’s too much of our blood on their hands
To ever come clean, so cut them the *******
Like the worst kind of thieves, I’m a peaceful person
But **** my beliefs, cause if you don’t think it’s about color
Guess what it is, I don't need apologies, it’s God that forgives
The only thing I want from you is to stand for what’s right
Cause what’s wrong is wrong, be it black or white

How many unarmed black men have to die
Before we see we’re all in harms way
They put Freddie Gray in the sky
Trayvon and Tamir, Philando Castille
Too many to name here, I can’t help but feel disgust
And distrust seems to be all that is real
I can see the beast slicing into us like a meal
And just like Eric Garner, I can’t ******* breathe
Slip through the cracks in the screen
Filtered blacks through the sieve
How are we ‘sposed to live when they do **** like they did
To my lost brother Kalief, beaten without relief
For three years at Riker’s cause he couldn't post bail
After not taking a plea, that boy could have been you
That boy could have been me
And when the jury decided, the damage was done
They had already won, he hanged himself in the Bronx…

He was 22…
Just know your tales will be told
But this song’s getting old and I don’t want to sing it
To fit the mold of the angry black boy who wont be controlled
All I want to say now is that the hate doesn't scare me
And we are the solution, you can jail a revolutionary
But not the revolution, so take note, don't forget our struggles
Get out there and vote
But just so you know, it’s a promise not a threat
If my Dr. King don’t get through, my ******* Malcolm comes next
Because this is far from over, the grievance is real
And if you ain’t standing with me, frankly
**** how you feel

I’m done

Since I was Born, I was sick.
The World had tried to choke out my Light since before I had Life. Since before I could fully think, it never wanted me around.
So much loss and pain just for one child, so today I must use the Life I gained to throw everything I have back at The World.
I refuse to let my Life be choked out by A World that never wanted to see me Rise. I shall Stand and Fight to make The World better.
Ever since I was a little Black Boy I have watched myself die.
It started with Trayvon, my big brother who died trying to Live Life and buy a snack. I died again with Tamir Rice, my little brother died for being Youthful and for being a child. And I kept dying and watching brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles, fathers, and mothers of mine all die. I was forced to watch my Family die. I have seen myself die in all of these people over and over again. Whether we Lived in the same era or not. I saw myself assassinated and silenced by the people who were supposed to help me bring Change over and over again. I saw myself beaten for sitting down in the wrong place, I saw myself marching to make a difference. I have seen myself choked out, shot in the streets, lynched, and more.
I see my face on all of these men who have died for no reason, I always believe I’m next. Ever since I was a young boy.
Even now as an “adult” I never know how much time I have left. There are days when I have fun and Live every single piece of Life and think, “Today could be my last day of Life”. There are other days where it’s not as great and I think the same thing.
My father turns 50 soon and knowing what I know about Black men, I am scared. I turn 20 soon and knowing what I know about Black men, I am beyond horrified.
On some days I can’t handle knowing all of this and on other days I know if I don’t handle this there won’t be enough people to step up who want to drastically change This World that has been choking me out.
I just wish that my Black Life Mattered so I could Live each day without fear.

All I could see was fear
When I looked into the eyes
Of those men dressed in riot gear
Using military tactics against peaceful protesters
This felt like spiritual warfare
It was then I knew what I was fighting for
Justice
Equality
Freedom
To protect the oppressed from tyranny
To fight for my brothers and sisters
Who’ve been stepped on, choked, murdered
For too long
Fighting to keep the flame of democracy alive
Against a swelling black tide
Fighting to keep black men and women alive
Fighting against cops who don’t care about Black lives
Fighting desperately against a growing evil
Fighting for George Floyd
For Breonna Taylor
For Michael Brown
For Eric Garner
For Tamir Rice
For Black lives
To fight generations of injustice

My soul is burdened
Knowing this fight is
Far from over
When we’re all that we have
We have to fight for each other

This is not
White vs Black
This is everyone vs Racism
Racism is not just a problem in America
Black Lives Matter!
Say their names
Justice for
Belly Mujinga; George Floyd; Tony McDade; Eric Gardner; Trevor Smith; Breonna Taylor; Sean Fitzgerald; Mark Duggan; Trayvon Martin; Chinedu Okabi; Ahmaud Arbery; Sarah Reed; Michael Brown; Aiyana Jones; Tamir Rice; Jordan Davies; Sean Rigg; Alton Sterling; Phlando Castile; David Dungay; Jamel Floyd; Christopher Alder; David McAtee; Julian Cole; Sheku Bayoh
No Justice, no peace
No freedom until we are equal
White silence is Violence
End Police Brutality
Stomp out racism
Stop killing my people
‘Please…please…please – I can’t breathe…’

I hear you
I see you
I stand with you

11 times
i can't breathe
i can't breathe
i can't breathe
i can't breathe
i can't breathe
i can't breathe
i can't breathe
i can't breathe
i can't breathe
i can't breathe
i can't breathe
till beautiful black skin becomes coated in blood red
till mothers and siblings see their loved ones pushed to the concrete
the light in their eyes extinguished
how many times will we see lives murdered on our streets?
how many more times until black lives finally matter?
even if you batter and bruise us, we will not fall
not today, not ever
we will not stop as long as we have to tell our young children they may be shot for just playing
till law enforcement stops comforting white privilege
to them, the lives lost are just another name on a piece of paper that will never be looked at twice
to them
             black lives
                              are a danger.
how was 12 year old Tamir Rice a danger?
how was George Floyd a danger?
and how is suffocation not?
i am not black, but i see you
i will fight for you, fight with you
till black lives finally matter
till we finally get justice.