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“Bubblin”

(A Poem for “Colored” Men)

By Dannis L CrutcherPublished 5 years ago 2 min read

“Bubblin”

(A Poem for “Colored” Men)

Bubblin, bubblin, bubblin…

Government oven…

let’s huddle in!

Must be disgusting…

this colored skin…

cockin and bustin at colored men..

cockin and bustin at colored men..

Lost and mistrusted, because of them…

Causing destruction…a lost cause…

(THE SCENE)

Sitting…bent…

I won’t lament about it…

Ima go in, and vent about it!

Exposing the whole now and then about it!

So on defense…

spoke to a friend about it!

The feelings,

the killings,

the public lynchings,

NIGGA…that South shit!

Fuck…the whole house, we surrounded!

A country WE founded,

Columbus ain’t found SHIT!

Hunting us down about it…

On that get out shit…

Made a movie just to show how they feel about it…

I’m being real about it…

Matter fact,

thinking back,

CNN where I found it…

Right here,

dot com,

White fear,

Glock, armed…

Neighborhood watch…

Gun COCKED!

A kid…trying walk home…

Tried to talk to him?

Then…got pissed about it!

Ass got kicked about it!

You’ze a bitch,

dude a kid!

Covered in hoodie,

Blood with the goodies,

Ended with chalk around’em!

They didn’t do shit about it…

They didn’t do shit about it!

(REFRAIN)

Bubblin, bubblin, bubblin…

Government oven…

let’s huddle in!

Must be disgusting…

this colored skin…

cockin and bustin at colored men..

cockin and bustin at colored men..

Lost and mistrusted, because of them…

Causing destruction…a lost cause…

(THE BREAKDOWN)

In this country we settled in…

The parallel

To hell we in…

Our benevolence,

Is self evident!

They made it irrelevant…

Sun man, full of melanin,

Kept in despair,

preparing a cell for him…

Does anyone care for him?

Does anyone FUCKIN care?

Looking and stare at him…

Even police are scared of him…

Left for the criminals, thieves, to care for him…

At least the streets are there for him.

Becomes the nature of our boys.

Rick flare to him,

No platinum hair.

Give him some crack,

a gaggle of straps,

Poverty’s grasp…

They’ll blast,

And blast back!

Till nobody’s there for him…

Just a white face…

an electric chair for him…

…A cold stare…

Just a…

A cold stare for him…

A cold stare…

…Peace god…

art

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