am imitation stock.
Robbed of identity, and sold on the auction blocks,
wallstreets holding docks.
Where ideas of a country bottled products of black skin like seeds,
scattered among states, absent of race, fields filled with no face.
Absent culture, families, children,
husbands and wives,
all staged in a time too early to be late
reserving holes for lost causes,
passed down to future ascendants
whom look and wonder
of the reflection they see
in the mirror…someone one like me
but my head is up
separate but equal? this cant be
the struggle period, fighting,
things definitely changed
but when will they for me?
I was bothered by their stories…
those before me
today I struggle with my history
stepping into enlightenment
memories of a haunted renaissance redesigned
victimized by primitive experiences
cops patting me down on my front lawn
what is fitting the description
or the experience suffered
at the hand of those that breathe division
can predjudice and racism be
labeled based on personal experiences
neglect, pain, insufficiencies?
I just want to live
but the cause effected
the thought to be planted
affecting character,penetrating immovable
boundaries forever lost behind
the eyes of the beholder
clouding vision standing relentlessly
the competitions is not you
its you versus me, us
preachers preach of change
we cant change the world if
we constantly lose
sight of changing ourselves
the Lynch system is said to last well
over 300 years
I dont understand why we keep running.