The Campaign
(written in four parts – Part 2 of 4)
The thing about three-card molly is
while you’re looking at the cards
trying to pick the Ace of Spades
you fail to see the person picking your pocket.
Such is the lasik proof forced near-sightedness
of the masses of Afrikans in America
watching pontificating focusing hoping
on Obama -- for us?
Stuck in a frosted fruit loop of sweet delusion
instead of noticing not a single scintilla
to support any belief that white America has changed.
Assimilationist ejaculate on microphones and T.V. screens
even practicing cultural surrender through fios
to bathe in hopes
of virtual President dreams.
Meanwhile white America’s collective nature
and interests remain unchanged.
Power relationships the same
an intact status quo
sovereignty for us -- not even hoped for.
Replaced with an unquestioned premise that
being United Stated President is or will be a good thing
like time spent at 3-card molly trying to achieve perceived winnings.
By Kemit Mawakana (aka The Seven-Foot Poet)
Peace (when appropriate) War (when necessary)
Copyright 2008.
Neoliberal capitalism is incapable of containing the pandemic or facilitating an economic recovery for the masses.
Rhythms of red, white, blue ‘party’ lights flashing beneath screaming sirens; The rush of warm crimson drawing 2, 4, 6, 8, 10—and then some…
The carceral class is made up of persons of African descent who are systematically stigmatized as unfit for freedom and deserving of the dehumanization that comes with being incarcerated.
The Democratic Party has seemingly accomplished the impossible – a revival of centrism in the midst of its collapse.
Indigenous and Afro-Bolivians spent every day resisting the coup to complete the socialist aspirations of their party.
