Black and White


Disillusion merely a bitter pill
In these Jim Crow shadows

Suits swarm streets and say hello
Oblivious to the nagging anxiety

Black man, wishes, he could possess
A smaller heart and no trace of hypertrophy

And feels that he is a mere prisoner
Of what cannot be, an abrasion by sandpaper

Like the skin tone, black as the devil’s paint
And colorless as the night

And in these times when a black African man
Is the captain of the vessel

And the dust bowl, is just a vortex
Of lost dreams, sucked in to an oblivion

A negro man walks to a church
To Martin’s ghosts, becoming a ghost whisperer

When prayers whisper the agony
Of a 50 year old dream – wilting like petals

Knowing that the white man
Is the master of the wind

And the black man holds the kite
Searching for a piece of the sky.


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