under fire

how do I tell them

stop shooting

they are being shot at

“its like sport”

hunting each other

because they keep

hearing that

they are worthless

so they disconnect

from the god within

hunted by everybody else

no chance of growing up

more friends dead than alive

some of their dads didn’t survive

orphans of city streets

mistreated by the law

of the lawless served up

like runaways by the paddy rollers

combatants in the war on drugs

caught in the terror

treated like a terrorist

tracked profiled force

fed greasy educations

they can’t stick out

not dumb enough to

believe the Wizard

looking at the pipeline

school to prison

incarceration still

the plantation

no post race

just post haste

genocide

Oz is imploding

gonna be the

movie capital of the world

mega producers of mass illusion

dazzling purveyors

of poorly made

useless

shiny shit

toxic kisses from

the globally elite

the original colonialist

turning  north america

into a bedroom community

no jobs for the slaves

new slaves in other countries

will work for food

will work for water

everybody has lost their land

corporations own it all

gmo’s drones compstat stop and frisk

war on terrorist on your block

better muzzel your mouth

stop thinking out loud

do like the preacher say

ask for a better master

be a better slave

how can I ask them to stop shooting

when we are lead by

the dead content to put food

on their plates while the

world starves play ball

go along and get along

drink the damn cool aid already

how we gone live

if them rowdy

boys keep shooting each other

dying all over the american dream

on the 10 o clock news

& on a block near you

how can I disarm them

when every 36 hours

one of them leaves the

earth blood on dirt

broken hearts and

cycles that refuse to be broken

truth thats ignored

the funk of hard facts

ignored on reality tv

but still real

but you want them to lay

down the steel

lay down and be run over

by the wheel

while the band plays

and the preacher shouts

About Ayodele Nzinga, MFA, PhD

I create; therefore I am.
This entry was posted in Black Arts, North American African Perspective, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

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