17600
They flow with trickery, typically, people tickle me.
That's why I'm laughing, literally.
Lyrically, I bring something new, hypothetically, yeah,
that be you.
No fiction, if its friction, I'm cooking.
Chef boy is he, Ota Benga on display, black is we.
Shinning brighter than them African diamonds be.
Dropping a gem, like jewlery.
This ain't no trickery, now, everybody take a knee.
Red was the the blood, white was the cause, blue was
the water, slavery.
Fifty-fourth Massachusetts, bravery.
Three hundred and thirty second airmen of tuskegee,
legendary.
No dilution, giving full potency.
This might be good enough, to find my body under an
ocean bouy.
To make America great again, means getting rid of
people like me.
Elevated minds not something they want to see.
Oh how I look at thee, hate, envy, sympathy.
It was written, to love thy enemy.
Some things are hard to follow, like the shadows in
front of me.
Wakanda forever, they don't want to hear, or even see.
The image of dark skinned prosperity.
Constitution says all men are created equally.
As the ink dries, people of color chained like live
stock, and sold like groceries.
No ifs, ands, or buts, documented history.
Black history is not a month, it's an ancestry.
From Crispus Attucks and beyond Martin Luther King.
When you close your eyes at night, what do you dream?
Is it love or hate, based on a color scheme?
Or the pusuit of happiness, while freedom rings?
Law makers, determining our very being.
As unarmed males are gunned down unsportingly.
Fouled in the game of life, no technicalities.
Most of what we know, is a fallacy.
Open new literary volumes and read.
Self educate, and evolve beyond expectations to be.
Incarcerated, from broken homes, and poor communities.
Then maybe, we'll receive the respect we seek.
At my window, with an AK, I guess we'll see?
Until then, no justice, no peace.
