Untitled 3

Brown skin

Melanin ghosts stained like sheets

draped stupidly over the eyes of history

her story, their story,

but not my story.

Cradled in cool judgment under the white-hot florescence of majority rule

While nooses still hang,

choking dreams of progress.

The educated white debates the use of nigger

the word an abstraction,


meaningless to the nooses in that schoolyard,

they swing heavy with their own ghosts

their own history

each of them recalling not the past,

but calling to mind the present.

Lethally injected with yesterday and incarcerated futures.

Locked doors and barred windows signal for change

even as we refuse to spare any.

Too few generations removed from firehoses

but we are done with open slavery

and so equality is achieved.

Celebutards have declared its time to ignore race

gilded commandments passed

hot air gas from mouths never properly slapped

Ignorance strung out like nooses,

hanging in the trees,

silently denying the death knell of racism.


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