Forge ahead, to be or fake it,
Forsaken sons and daughters,
Twice the work, half the dignity,
Shivering with contempt, your honor,
Whose motion, swiveling red ink pens to penalties?
Who are you to state, obligate a nation?
Red: cards flags colors bloody causes to realities
Living just to bury our dead with rosy carnations
And still taxed, from sunset to sunrise: charged for air,
Fishing in corner pockets, reciting change gon come
Angelic art, self portraits of flying like Amelia Earhart
Live and die for nothing but where we originate from
Bittersweet memories: marching against enemies,
Oh how life unfolds on black, brown faces, steadily collapse,
But liberated minds; renovating, illustrating images worth perpetuating
Never forget tragedies... genocides, the relapse
Echoing sounds of a savior, voice like a multitude,
Sambo behavior, like Him gravely pursued.
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: truth