Terms and conditions apply,
They create rules, for us to abide
Terms and conditions apply,
Made for a black person to survive
Terms and conditions apply,
For the most basic human rights
Terms and conditions,
Made only for our existence,
Not for protection,
But for the sake of our oppression,
To keep us under surveillance,
Monitored by a legal binding -
To make sure we ‘behave’
And not break a contract,
Only their hands signed
Terms and conditions,
Used, to excuse their obsession,
With policing our every movement
Terms and conditions -
To legalise their racism
It's not about tone
Its about policing of voice
It's not about the sound we make
It's the words echoing through them
They don't fear us being seen
They fear us being heard
That we will hypnotise the masses with our words
They know their biggest threat is the power of our voice
It's why they wield silence as a weapon
It's why protest is a declaration of war to them
That every march is a song of rebellion
They fear our music not because of its beauty
But because it spreads a message of spoken truth
We write our history
We sing our feelings
We paint our stories
Our strength Fueled
By the mourning of our fallen
Our joy the face of protest
The very thing they want gone
a thousand tragedies paned
onto the community headlines
slashes the idle spirits
the wound enrages them to
seek out sadistic glee for the sake
to title themselves as 'woken.'
pitchforks and torches raised
looking for the guilty farmer
with swift words and stories
all the crops seared in the name
of the mindless chase for "justice."
“no god or jury; only us”
the next day arrives new tragedies,
sprouts new farmers to fight,
old pitchforks and torches to light
burning all but ideas
immortalised by martyrs made
from setting the flames
not one man asks for
the purpose of the hunt or be
branded as “the problem”
they walk the same burned soil
refusing to admit that they are
only casting flames on scarecrows
to the new age cult
criticism is blasphemy
indifference is hatred
We called the police
but no one came
We tried 9-1-1
it wasn't the same
We placed a request
for a social psychologist
Who showed up
a part-time mixologist
She surveyed the scene
Five shot, four dead
Mixed some bloody Marys
Then gagged and fled
Next morning we called City Hall
to report the night's crimes
The phone answered by a Ms. Regal
who told us now everything's legal
We drank our coffee, stunned and confused
walked down the street where bullies abused
Poor little kids who were walking to school
where kids pack heat and break all the rules
We finally decided, eough is enough
without the police, lifes's just too tough
The neighborhood crawls now with all kinds of smack
but we're stuck here forever, 'cos our car got hijacked
Come up
Justice
Police
Cold meats
Book em
Dan O
Police
Po Po
9/29/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
1. When you are called to a fast-food restaurant (Wendy's, MacDonalnds) as a police-servant, do NOT try to TASER a drunk - but otherwise innocent-black man.
2. If the drunk but otherwise innocent-black man is BIG, do not plan or premediate how to kill him.
3. If the drunk but otherwise innocent-black man takes your TASER from you, do not cry for help, and then shoot the drunk but otherwise innocent-black man
in the back.
4. Fess up: "Sir, I lost my TASER to a drunk but otherwise innocent-black man, but I chose NOT to kill him to get it back to save my dignity" (READ: My sorry off-white butt).
shalom, shalOM SHALom
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