social commentary
There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
Who Matters?
Black lives matter, but blue do too, that’s what they told me. But blacks don’t matter and blues can shoot, that’s what they’ve shown me. See, only we can define what’s right and good for ourselves. What’s right for you is wrong for someone else. We each follow our own moral compass. And, sometimes the settings are skewed, set in their ways of primitive views. Tentative because of hue. Ten of them, and one of you, but what to do, because the judge is blue and the government too. And if I touch even just one, I’m resisting, rather than protecting my own self interest. Well, I’d rather be dead than a slave to a system. Ropes and chains turned to prisons. Open veins turned to rivers as their bloody rage turns our children to statistics. To say that all lives matter is to say that we are all equal. That a white man in a business suit would be stopped and searched without probable cause. Probably not. Are you afraid for your life when you’re pulled over twice in one night? When the ones who’ve sworn to protect and serve neglect and purge. They’ve taken a statement that was never meant to exclude, but exude systematic abuse. They’ve twisted and tangled it to “blacks are more important than you”. How we view the world speaks on our upbringing. To constantly combat civil truths is to bring to light your inner rouze, superiority. A complex developed to contest ones own lack of confidence. How can you combat the fact that blacks are being served up like condiments? Using fear as a conduit. It’s as clear as common sense, but it’s become far too common place, so we often miss. Or overlook. Funny how no one overlooks a black man at a Sax Fifth. Or a black man with his hat bent, slight sag and a half limp. A black man with a white woman that he adores, but all you see is an abomination. “How dare they mix races”. Caught in a fixation of quick hatred. Quick to judge, quick to denounce, quick to shoot. When I say black lives matter, I don’t mean that my white side doesn’t. My white side suffers when receiving foul looks just for being out with my mother. No, I say black lives matter because you wouldn’t know the difference. See a skin tint and change your intent. Well, your categories will never shatter our individuality. Twelve tribes mixed with alchemy, scattered across the galaxy. Trace your heritage and tell me there isn’t a curly hair within. Try to put yourselves in the shoes of a person of color. Our cries for help are drown out by their sighs and yelps. A side effect of white privilege to mimic oppression. To say that opportunities that are afforded to those who were once banned altogether is unfair is to say that we never belonged. To that I say this. Black lives matter. Black souls will forever be strong. For our journeys ever wage on. The fight is never won. The fight is never one.
By Jeremy McClure5 years ago in Poets
