Heritage of the Caribbean
Always sad to see descendants of slaves with chains around their necks and wrists.
Some of my ancestors were hunted down, kidnapped, confined, sold, raped, flogged, exploited, gagged, tortured, executed, massacred, and dehumanized for centuries on the slave plantations of the Caribbean.
Too many dark skins were forced to curse their melanin, prostituting themselves on the dilapidated sidewalks of servitude.
Too many traitors among Afro-descendants.
Western prisons profit from carceral negrophobia.
Racialist statistics like the supremacist articles of the Code Noir.
I will not kneel for the death of a macaque who believed in the racist ravings of the West.
I no longer bow to their God since I read the Code Noir and the papal bull of the pedophile slave trader Nicholas V.
I am at war; I see the world through an ethnic prism, like the apostles of the Ku Klux Klan.
I loathe miscegenation when I reread the tragic accounts of the horrors of the savagery of slavery.
I do not raise my fist to the sky like a Black Panther.
I would rather brandish a Soviet Kalashnikov to defend my dignity on barren lands hostile to my Africanness.
I fiercely believe in the salutary brutality of violence.
You who read me are suicidal if you seek comfort in the rawness of my death-obsessed ravings.
I am neither a poet nor a dreamer.
I live the daily life of a hardened criminal in the labyrinths of the illicit.
I cannot recount the offenses of my judicial pedigree.
A worshiper of the principles of Omertà.
I am an angel if you mind your own life without poisoning mine.
I have never loved; I do not believe in love; my life is not glamorous.
Human beings worship the sweetness of lies over the warmth of truth.
Everything is clear in the stench of my incurable wounds.
Everything is written in the darkness of my indelible scars.
I am a free man.
I am not racist; it’s just that I don’t like your ugly mug.
I won’t tell you; you’ll know it by watching the flames of hell writhing in the depths of my eyes reddened by suffering.
My forebears survived the overcrowding of slave ships only to be displayed on counters by slave traders.
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