Supremacy’s M-1’s deploy selective amnesia!
I don’t see my face in your warrior’s TV movies
my Granddaddy served, WWI, Pop’s toured II,
Unc’s battled Korean’s, Cousin’s died in Nam!
Ali laced em’up and floored them death peddlers!
“Them Viet Cong ain’t never call me no nigger! ”
I heard I ain’t going, ‘cause my Nation’s racism's
headquarters! My draft card faced disaster!
died abused slave Son’s facing––Normandy,
D-Day, Battle of the Bulge, flack, shrapnel,
I lost my right leg, so army Sgt’s call me One-Gone!
Reaper’s pressures discharge my affliction PDS
shunned by Walter Reed–– clean bed
linen is reserved for greed’s politicians
I’d be safer in a room wit’ a typhoon,
even roaming roaches own––shanty’s
I’m dangling in sidewalk sacks behind hotels
almost in jail and ill political wills of private
you didn’t get hit, your State caused paraplegic
allegiance, is denied mobility’s wheel-chair,
later Sam might crush your bones for powder
‘cause my skin is dress by heir’s of white-darkness,
nigger to prisoner, freedom don’t know me!
Now at the center and gravity of my reality
political pitch-men enlist donors to erect
dough wasted on gone in stones, dead soldier’s wall
in the mall, for names of voiceless manglers!
Under God’s Nagasaki-eyes––the States
a morbid fraud, at combat wit’ Poe’s plots
I’m still found dead, suffering white-sheet
disease, hung in hell’s cells, top of my head
cut open wider than a can––of Hunts-tomato-sauce!
Comments about this poem (Death Peddlers by Marcellus Davis Jr )
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