Black Butterfly Poem by THEODORE MOSLEY

Chained in the valley of our homes our feet were mortgaged for their cruise ships of death.

Instead of thrones for kings we sit with oars that facilitate our right to live.

They defecate our manhood with our feces; herded in the pasture of their framework we cry out.

Broken with whips and chains of corrections our spirits connect to songs of deliverance.

Our identities are engraved on our backs of torture to silence us.

The coffins of our bodies became treasures for the sea to perform our home going service.

Our Black Skin Love became their horticulture of personal reproduction gardening.

A strong black buck has his mind castrated with the sea as it communions his family.

His resistance is met with cold steel to his flesh that cannot contain life to it.

Physiological warfare decorates their thinking in the presence of white supremacy.

Calculations of their services on deck deceive their infiltrators in plain sight.

Songs of codes whispered the nights for messages untold.

Freedom is death and death is freedom as they mount in unity.

On the distant shores of life the Black Butterfly reincarnated himself into a Black Man of distinction.

Written by Theodore Mosley

October 11,2019