Power to you. Power to me. Power to be free. . . .
Poem
The Role of the Artist
ll my momma i’m up before 9am / plottin escape from the empire again / throwin rocks at a man-made sun . . .
Fireworks at 2am
Who puts trust in a system that legalized enslavement? Desecrating Native land for ugly ass pavement. Babies locked in cages under “In God We Trust.” . . .
Who Will Survive North AmeriKKKa
How could KKKanada not be racist?
it has the same father as AmeriKKKa
these siblings lie next to each other
rooted in imperialism and land theft
. . .
The Politician
The Politician is our organizer, activist, and freedom fighter. She is our mother, daughter, sibling, and compatriot. She walks behind, beside, and in front of us. She sets the pace and brings up the rear. She claims to be a servant, but we know her as much more than a servant of the people. She is our light in the dark. She illuminates the path we follow. . . .
Up Above My Head
a struggle against settler colonial dispossession is a struggle against u.s. military aid budgets is a struggle against borders bred in blood . . .
You Know He Shot at the Police Right?
you know he was a weapon. didn’t beg for his life. or call for his mother. or his partner.
you know that nigga went out on his feet. brought a gun to a gun fight. brought mutiny to a slave ship at the atlantic shoreline. you know that nigga was a nigga and not like haha nigga not like next democratic presidential nominee nigga not like run fast jump high nigga like worm food covered in tree bark like lead water clogging an artery like dead leaves stuck in a gutter like storm the arsenal and shoot the masters like one of those give me liberty or give me blood types nigga got the nerve to want freedom and do somethin bout it. . . .
There’s Fires to Start
private property did a number on our humanity
capitalism fashioned platforms out of protest posters
podiums don’t belong next to gasoline canisters . . .