Friday, July 11, 2014

Black is Black

Its easier to see people like me
in an orange jumpsuit with slave shackles,
not in a business suit pouring milk
in their cup of coffee every morning.
Lets not act as if society doesn’t
brainwash its hands clean with
blood for a living; doesn’t gild the
naked truth with silicone.
Hoping it cages the revolution
within us like wild animals in a zoo.
But no matter how you cut it, you
can never truly tame the heart.
The blood it pumps, the love it gives,
the pain if feels, the dreams it lives.
Maybe we don’t give God enough credit.
Maybe I don’t give God enough credit,
or thanks for the breath’s he gives me
to write these poems everyday.


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