Saturday, March 8, 2014

Eagle Street Right By the Store

Where Keith Magik Atkinson Was Murdered:
I wrote my enemy a poem last night
Not because I wanted to
Not being sorry or regretful
At our parting.
No wishing for skinfolk
In This (ex) sister/brother of mine.
I wrote my enemy a poem last night
Because grief makes one do macabre things
Like write a love poem for the one you hate
For a change.
There is a saying:
It is good to learn from a friend
Or an enemy.
Because the devil is a lie
And he exult this white thing
And he keep taking lives
        Too soon
And we realize really what they call
Justice, Objectivity, Freedom, Linear time
 is just them deciding
If we is living
Or if we is dying.
And now they say
Black children
If not,
We will murder you
And then they is telling lies about lies about lies.
And I tell you,
No word of a lie.
Oh no, sister, no brother
On Saturday, on Sunday, on Monday
We was all crying.
But, you, you is no
 You is no
No wretchful kin of mine.
No wretchful kin of mine

No comments:

Post a Comment