where the writers are
A Cup Of Tea With A Patriot (poem)

A meeting at Starbucks a great American

franchise to discuss a favorite American

past-time

 

Disenfranchising people of color

 

Hate delivered with a smile while I sipped a

chi latte

 

I came across a picture of a black man about

to be lynched in East Texas

 

the image was blurry so I was left to wonder what

thoughts crossed his mind

 

looking out at his neighbors dressed in their

Sunday–go-to-meeting-clothes

 

smiling, chatting about the weather and the Preacher’s

sermon, smoking their pipes, licking their lips

 

while sharpening their knives, tying their ropes,

raising their clubs, cracking their whips

 

preparing to take his life in a cannibalistic orgy of

torn flesh, broken bone and blood

 

Streams and streams of red-black blood

 

Did it occur to him as it does to me looking into

dead eyes bulging out of sockets, filled with hatred

 

I cannot co-exist with creatures such as these empty,

soulless, sponges soaking life from everything

they touch

 

I AM A BAD NEGRO

 

The boogey-man in their nightmares, the

person they live in fear of as much as they do

the second coming of Christ

 

Their hatred and my rage cannot co-exist

 

I am a bad Negro—it is a good day to die