POEM #1

by Catrice Greer 

How many different ways can I say it?

We are out numbered by the hypocrisy.

The gat that blows holes in reason

wind that winds and bows us broken

hangs futures, when we feel like soaring

Knotted knuckles and fists fused

through the holla they refuse to hear

our feet planted, strong.

We are changing things

come hell or high water

we stand here

on the corner of law and anarchy

not ours, how can I say it louder

when y’all are not listening to the shouting

how then can you hear us when we speak truth

as men over the rubble, over the lies, over the unrest

Our fusion goes unnoticed even when its standing right here

tall as it pleases.

we are no longer asking for peace.

We are demanding it

we are claiming it

head to head

voice to voice

far past the expected breakdown

And this is on law.