when black people speak...

.

.

.

we waited for nikolas’

blood, the blood

they always take

from us to keep

the flag red.

yet, we

are reminded

that he must

be taken alive

to keep

their hoods white.

.
.
.
i demand to walk
roads paved with lightning
and stomp on
ceilings made of glass.

if act is riot
and pain is memory
racism
will always last.

fuck what ya heard/

the intonation of my vernacular

half notes of prayer to

fallen idols like           

- nigga, please or fuck outta here

have their own half lives

of blasphemous consciousness

and could very well

lie at two distinct edges of bullshit

like motherfucker you know what’s good

or passing the j to the right

and not asking for it back

bc i do it all for the love

.

.

.

when the final football

is spiked in the turfless

end zone of 4th and 1s

with no time left,

a penalty will be called

on those that turned their

heads to see the final coin

flipped from the bleachers

to determine which side

would kneel first.

.

.

.

eye love

the sun

.

the sun

loves me

black