Here we go again
another body slain
more families to experience the gut-retching pain
of seeing their loved one maimed.
I’m screaming that black people are real
strip away TV’s galore of gangster and sex appeal
follow us to the church and mosque where we kneel
as we nurse our gaping wounds to heal.
This is not about black on black crime
If Tyrone kills his brother he doesn’t see a dime
but if a journalist posts the body of Tyrone’s dead brother, the attention is monetised
and if a picture of Tyrone should arise
you will not see humanity in his eyes
just a mugshot to desensitise.
Fake activists and pragmatists
the rhetoric of which I will never get the gist
“We have issues in our communities much worse than this.”
But acknowledging police brutality doesn’t deny other problems don’t exist!
I can give you the names of the deceased in their numerous lists
How no matter the situation, the scenario persists
“He had a gun.” “He’s got a record.” “He looked suspicious.”
All to justify killing a man in front of his kid.
Hash-tags and names
I can’t stand the pain
of seeing another family broken
over an institutional slaying.
I skip commentaries on the timeline
refuse to open graphic tweets
I’ve been doing so well
this footage could ruin my week.
“But what about the lives, deprived?”
It’s not my reality.
But yes it is, yes it is.
Because as long as I continue to breathe and bleed, I have the potential to bring life to what is considered no more than a beast in society, into the streets, into communities.
There’s not a place I can raise them where they will be exempt from this treatment.
The odds are in my favour that I will suffer a bereavement.
The passing of my son will be considered an achievement.
And the officer will celebrate with administrative leave.
I’m learning mankind and black-kind are not on equal par. That the death of a gorilla is more concerning than that of a black man. I don’t understand.
All the lovers of black people where are you now!?!
As our blood soaks into the ground do you still love us?
No booty to shake, no music to make, no food to taste, no weave to lace, dead on the ground, life gone from our face, do we still mean something to you?
Guess it was too good to be true – that you could love us both in life and in death.
Wow, black deaths really don’t phase you.