Urban #Poetry: Pounds of Black Ice (Justice Can’t Breathe)
Copyright K. Omodele 2015
“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.
You stop us; frisk us
with yuh Giuliani justus*
You sweat us; no let up,
Now it’s ninety-six degrees
You go me swingin’ on a noose
in this Home of the Freeze
Strung up in a tree
It’s so hard to breathe.
You got me ‘gainst a wall
moving slower than Diallo
reachin’ for I.D.
Your gun hand tremblin’ like leaves
yuh fingers twitchin’ up to squeeze
tension tighter than a sneeze
You want me down on my knees-
strange fruit me up in trees?
Fifty lead-starred shells
hammered young Sean Bell
pounded promises of life
from his never-will-be-wife.
Black Life? Candle flames
flickerin’ in Chi-town** winds;
flutterin’ blades of grass
driven by the breeze.
So tread light, Trayvons!
Noose tight! My fight?
Those iron tones and shifty vibes
Garner-ed behind officers’ hooded eyes.
I hear the CRACKing of yuh whip
in gavel CLACKS and cuff CLICKS
Mass incarceration slick; three TICKS-
TOCK. Lives stocked behind a fence.
You say, “Justice is blind.” Right!
The dirty slut couldn’t see?
Charleston BLAMMED down to his knees?
Rice Mama soaked in tears of grief?
In Staten Isle I can’t breathe
Oh Eleven London banged up
Oh Twelve Linden pushed her hands up
Now, Cleveland stand up? Slut can’t you see?
Chocolate cities screamin’
Baltimore burnin’
Same song ’round the world
Same turntable*** turning-
spinning sounds of strife,
how a pounded Black life
is worth so much more than pounds of black ice.****
In this world of ruby sunsets, can you believe?
Justus got me on a noose, it’s so hard to breathe.
* justice for some; justice for a selected few
** Chicago
*** record player
**** black ice – black diamonds
