Why a Black man can’t breathe
In the land his ancestors
Built
Barehanded, chained, cuffed,
Brutalized, enslaved,
I won’t understand.
Knee on his neck, saying “I can’t breathe”
I. Can’t. Breathe.
The proverbial knee
Of white supremacy
Avalanching into 2020,
rolling in and building since 1619,
Crescendoing,
Digging deep,
deeper into his neck
well into his death
His breath: the only lifeline,
Even in the lucid light of day.
Shameless in their pursuit,
The thirst for power; stronger than the thirst for justice.
A sheer, cold act of blatant oppression
To later be rewarded
with their freedom,
and a pension.
Their oath to “serve and protect,”
A sick punchline grinning, peering down eerily
at this pulsing civil unrest.
Amerikkka is a dark comedian,
Replete with hyperbole—
Another drink, please?
Stiff.
Air is free,
At least they said it is.

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One response to “White Supremacy: the Seed of this Disease”

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