Your control
Ran cool and deep
As you spoke
To power
They wanted you
To scrap and bow
As others
Of your skin
Color did
How they
Resented your opinions
That turned
Their necks red
But emptied your spleen
Words
Black men
Swung for
Years before
But words
A free
Black woman
Confirmed by right
Stiffened in resolve
By injustice
You would not accept
I smiled
At your courage
How hot the truth
The unexpected scald
That helped them
Find their place
Don’t believe the media,
just believe me, so says
madness,
Forget your free speech.
Madame Liberty, speak up,
tell the truth in print
and on the airwaves.
Do not shrink back from bullies
or be hollowed out by threats.
Report with honesty, let
truth flow so that an informed
public and Congress can work
and decide to make a better day.
Write in rhyme or free verse, we are an enemy of
the state, even in free states, like England and the
USA. The power elite may read our poems to add
diversion to routines, moving levers of vast power.
But, down deep, their minds are ill-at-ease with pesky
poets who question all. They smile at us, as we stab
pens deep beneath the surface, to shine the light of
dissident minds unfettered. But trust me, they do not
smile inside. Look closely at the velvet glove on the
iron fist. In angry times unraveling, we may feel its
wrath.
Unwelcome as our best poems are,
it is our duty to write,
and write, and write some more.
We know that whole societies
can go insane
without our leaven in their bread.