by BAR poet in residence Raymond Nat Turner
in which the poet muses upon the landscapeve in which urban pioneers thrive
Oink
by BAR poet in residence Raymond Nat Turner
I saw Satan high on SeconalāāRed
Devilsāāzap an app for zombie-settlers.
Then they came by covered wagon,
stagecoach, horsebackābathed, and
reinvented themselves as programmers,
humans, condo-owners.
I saw rent refugees morph into miserable
Monstersāvapid vampires sucking soul,
air and chocolate out Tha Town. I saw them
turn into werewolves on Lakeshore, pushing
porcelain babies in thousand dollar strollers;
stressed-out Yogis practicing purse-clutching,
street-crossing, stink-eye Spiritualism on children
and grand-children of seventy-year residents.
I saw Dadaists driving drunk the wrong way on
10K gold-paved streets, killing dance masters,
like policemen gunning down painters as a form
of critique
I saw the Best Burrito Shop, The5th Amendment,
and Africa By The Bay run off The Ave; their places
Taken by caffeine shooting galleries and Boer beer
bars for rent refugees trekkking 13 miles, bringing
Butte with them.
I saw nextdoor.com Nazi-NSA impersonators circle
laager between OPD cruisers and string yellow tape
around drumming, dancing, BBQing, singing Gospel
and other verbs modified by the phrase: āā¦while Blackā
Raymond Nat Turner Ā© 2015 All Rights Reserved
Abayomi Azikiwe is the editor of Pan-African News Wire, an international electronic press service.
Mary Hooks is National Field Secretary with the Movement 4 Black Lives based in Atlanta.
Brooke Floyd is co-director of the Jackson Peopleās Assembly at the People's Advocacy Institute.
The latest Donald Trump indictment is no cause for celebration. The oligarchs still rule, the military industrial complex still gets public money, the criminal justice system he now faces is stillā¦
A letter commemorating George Jackson speaks to the origins of Black August.
