Stillbirth of a Revolutionary

We are all loving

The first slap
of injustice stings.
But, its only your pride.
A small thing.

A slap.
soon forgotten,
and easily explained away:
Oh, they was angry
Oh, they don’t know better
Oh, I shouldn’t have…..
3 apologies, a flashy car, and a doctorate later,
You are making the sweetness.

Busted lip
Bruised rib:
even Papa’s Waltz
was never this fun.

Once your black eyes
you see.

And you say,
“It’s not just me”
and you know
that this is nothing new.

And then you realize
that Mary Turner
is your mother.

Ripped out
to feel genteel boots
crushing the life out
before you had a chance
to breathe.

And then you know.

You know there is no halfway.

You know that they hate you
and they have hated you

The world has come to hate you.
The world fears you too.

So, tell me my nigga’,
What would you do?

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