Tell Us White People

An enigma gave rise to speculative thoughts. Shall thou gift thee with thine bruise limb? The wearing of our blood stains, Lost unto thee thy next born child, Property, land, and freedom. Dr. King lives no more. A token of your contribution, Oh how disheartening, you shine brighter than thy stars on the King’s day, Haunted by the tragic sight of observed festivities on his hard earned day, Thy ancestors suffered the horror of human chattel enslavement courtesy thereof, Should the hills of Virginia and Massachusetts-wretch wish to plea truth from their dreadful lips, Thou reckoned the civil war danced with Pain and tears a company to black souls. Murdered and tortured at the very rise a brow, A violent turn of sick fun to your desire, Dirty master, bearing your authority over young girls, Then hang your head in pit dark shame in the open scandal Of a black gal bearing your mixed race child, Thrive you shall on the sick cheer of abandonment of your mixed race children. Tell us white people tell us. Oh, the timing of sealed lips, Well, speak I shall, Told how to love, Who to love, Voting rights not for the shade of thee, Forbid thee learns of the rising sun, Whipped us at the mere glimpse of Of a detour... Blood stains of ours to your shallow grave Yet you seek endlessly A confession to Dr. King Words to Rosa Park Your mystery price, Tell us white people tell us. A little bird echoed, A cry so fretful to apprise the helpless child-bearer Black people endures, The endless footsteps, White “folks” know the mystery price. Tell us white people tell us. Our freedom we have not, Our sight a threat, Beaten, killed and demeaned, A joyous activity for a uniformed fool. The unrest till death, The answer to the mystery price, Tell us white people tell us.