Kids On The Beach

There once was a boy who lay on the Beach
If we were a better world,
He would only be sleep
His mom would be smiling
Laughing with Love
We failed this Child
The side-effects of a harsh world
Where his skin color made him worth less to our eyes
We ignored their screams
Their yells
Their cries
So a mom gathered her children,
And went to the Beach
She could not tuck them in
She could not let them sleep
They got on a raft,
Tossed and turned by the sea
And that's how little Aylan
Got to visit the Beach

Ode to Role Models

I grew up looking up
To the boys on the Block
Everybody was a killer
We all had Glocks
Cash in the socks
Work in the boxers
Man to man, throw hands
Had to learn to be a boxer
I wasn't really tough
I was just an impostor
I had good grades
With a mother and a father
But that ain't what the hoes liked
They wanted Blood and Crip niggas who skipped school to roll dice
So, I went away for the summer
Cooked up a hustle
Came back with a pocket full of money and some muscle
It was kill or be killed
Life was a jungle
Black Lives Didn't Matter
You could get 'em for a bundle
Of some hard white
Or some good green
Throwing away our lives pissing over Martin Luther's Dream
We never dreamed because we never knew nobody with a future
Everybody worth something
Sold something
I wanted to be Nino
Money Making Mitch
Ace Boogie but not Rico
'Cause he turned into a snitch
All my role models gang banging Blood or Crip
Nobody we knew ever grew up to be shit!
So . . .
I guess we thought we wasn't shit either
Pour some out to my Role Models
If only they had been teachers . . .

I Live In Darkness

I live in Darkness
I have become comfortable here
Long ago my soul submitted to the dark recesses of my mind
And whenever the light shines
And I attempt to grasp a glimpse of Hope
The Darkness pulls me back into its choke . . .
I can't breathe
Suffocated by Despair and Desperation
Like Eric Garner on an NYC sidewalk
Snuffed out before I can taste the Rainbow
Like Trayvon in Florida
Shot down for standing up
Like Oscar Grant on that BART platform
Black Lives Matter
But what of my Black soul?
Does it matter?
Or is it just an oily stain
On the Fresh White Fabric of the American consciousness ?
Don't believe me?
Let the news tell it
Let the Preachers Preach it
And let every eye see
For themselves just what we are
We are
Born with a purpose and created by God
Made in HIS image
The Original Man
We are
Chained and Exploited
Jump high, Run fast
But don't you Read that Book
We are
Beaten, Whipped, and Chained
In the name of a Triune God
Under the Yoke like Jeremiah
Suffering like Job
Crucified but NOT buried
Never Resurrected
3 years, 3 decades
Maybe 3 centuries.