Crimes Of Times Poem by THEODORE MOSLEY

Africa is crying for her children that the nights chained in their democracy.

Supplanted in brokenness for gains of distrust their flesh succumbed to whips of fire.

Noah's Arc journey sailed with animals of freedom that supplied the new world.

La Amistad journey sailed with apartheid that helped create the new world.

Death was their companions that traveled the seas of unknown destinations.

Water was condemned for consumption within their world of survival.

Travailing the nights of destructions in chains was the cry of freedom.

Freedom corrupted them with hands of cotton and songs of Negro spirituals.

Plantations of promises eroded them with dreams of eyes that infiltrated them at night.

Cornered within the pain of surpassing times they begin to look to the hills from whence cometh their help.

The Declaration of Independence declared war on their souls as freedom encrypted them.

No longer bound in chains of their democracy we transformed beyond their realization of our civilization.

White sheets are now the legality of "I was afraid for my life".

Blue uniforms are task forces of religious rhetoric that proclaims "I saw a gun".

Our humanity does not exist; black lives are their prizes; their crimes of times are a fable of the color of our skin.

Written by Theodore Mosley
August 10,2018