trumpet says, "Make America Great Again."
a prayer that ends up in God's spam folder
bump into the hearts of falling stars
trump the minds of the misinformed
with fearful slogans, collect the votes
burp the thunder out of your skin
accelerate, crash and burn the sky
even Ronald Reagan said it to please
the populist mindset of the nation
the bones of the earth got broken
when they say, "one man, one vote."
deform and reform the apartheid
form and reform its deadly spinal bones
before they will say, "No taxation without
representation." until then, let us
stick on to, "One settler, one bullet."
to unite our broken teeth and
clenching fists with the Azanian people
harvest our hearts and plough our flesh
dwell caves of our ancestral skulls
now walk on my tongue, follow trigger clicks
cleaning pages in cages stained with
blood of Indian genocide and extinction
here they were, blood on hands, screaming
"Better death than red." maybe Bertrand Russell
could unweave these slogans:
"Better death than red and
better red than death."
the populist voice resembles the
scream of Saturn when Jupiter eclipse
the sky is a poetry tree that enlightens
light the Capricorn, water my corn
burn the cons of our generation Bob Dole says, "A better man for a better
America." but Bill's underwater is
still wet with kitty saliva while
Hillary cries, "Ready for change, ready
to lead; Big challenges, real solutions."
change of the nation or of Bill's panties?
maybe we should have followed the scent
of her dreams, maybe her lead could
have ease the war between twitter
and the tweeting old trumpet
too much presence of mal at keys
"No more malarkey." talk is cheap
because supply always exceed demand
the philosophy of Biden in office
by then we must unite, ready to die
"Now we can breathe." Van crying the
eyes of the earth, my heart quakes
wake the mind, quake the memory
the Eagle is destined to feed on
Black lives despite the face in place
use your bones, bridge the ocean
melt your lungs, breathe with your soul
rip your sole open, sail the soil
kill the kneel, your souls are piling
see the sore, sing the song on the
seashore, surface in the old African
forest, spread your roots afar from slogans
into the heart of Africa, be immortal
the next step - slogans
©lamin
L