My country tis of thee
Sweet land of liberty
Of hate I sing,
Of fascism and violence,
White supremacy born,
This is what you’ve always shown,
Only victims see,
Your ideals are ideas,
your system, systemic
racism,
oh sweet land
my criticizicism biting
my love enduring
for what you have yet to be,
for what I believe remains possible,
sweet land of liberty
Tag: america
Stacey Abrams
I am pigmented,
My color sets me apart, casts me out,
Of inclusion to this monolith of democracy,
Where I must work for a right that is supposedly given,
I cast my ballot,
And feel the power in the pen
In the slide as it is counted,
And the anxiety over whether it’s really included,
tallied.
My selection wins,
And still opposition demands more,
A recount, a means, a way,
Of disqualifying me and the like-minded voters,
We must barter for peace as our representatives confirm
The process is
Just,
Just one more ballot,
One more hanging chad,
One more missed mark to prove something is amiss,
But a black man won the seat in Georgia,
Damn now she’s colored blue,
Just,
Just one more recount,
One more way to trick the eye,
That won’t stop watching,
That has been trained not to trust,
From centuries of color-coded democratic process,
Featuring parlor tricks of poll taxes,
Id laws,
Limited sites to do your civic duty,
Threats of,
And Death,
Ancestors knew all of it,
So show me a true patriot,
She doesn’t need horns nor face paint,
To show her warrior pose.
Coup Attempt
And then there was insurrection
At our front door,
Capital rushed,
And terrorists waltzed in,
Blanketed in white-
Privilege overfloweth,
Flags of treason flown on government stairs,
Be not fooled by shock,
The symptoms have long endured,
For the plague that is the cure,
Bloodletting,
Exposing the white supremacy
Rooted therein
Lungs
“I can’t breathe,”
He said,
And the choke held,
And he couldn’t breathe,
Until he couldn’t live,
We can’t breathe,
We are dying,
Everyday,
Physically,
Mentally,
Emotionally,
The choke holds,
Until no air can pass through bruised lungs,
Until no life can fill our vessels,
This is all part of the plan,
The slow deflation of lungs.
And They Came With Guns
And they came with guns,
Angry,
Determined to end,
The restrictions set forth,
The vinyl gloved,
Masked nose and mouth,
6 feet of distance restrictions,
Priorities first precautions,
Laid forth to try,
Try as we may,
To stifle the exponential death,
Befalling the masses,
Reducing the number of graves of masses,
And they came with guns,
Claiming freedom or death,
Not recognizing death is already the prime player,
Death is the face staring back,
At the fool who only wants “to live free or die”,
Publicly choosing the former,
When living free means accepting death,
For one and all,
Living free,
Without precautions,
Without boundaries set,
For petulant children,
Is choosing mortality,
For each,
And all, unequally,
Death distributed,
Just like it is with liberty and justice;
For all?
And they came with guns,
Masked pale skinned
“Patriots”,
Demanding freedom of mobility,
Before a plague,
Ignoring their fallibility,
They were fearless,
For before a white supremacist society
They had nothing to fear,
Their intimidation,
Was intimidating,
But made no threat to the true establishment,
And they came with guns
As Things Always Have Been
My government burned this week,
The fire has long been lit,
But it finally took off,
Swallowed in flames,
Our fears realized,
As we now walk scorched streets
Of an authoritarian regime,
Wondering how long it’s been like this,
When exactly the illusion wore thin,
Leaving us woke to the knowledge that,
Things are worse,
But they always have been.
She of Letters 