lynchings…

with eyes
that’s
seen too much pain
the old man
said
i’ve seen
these things
before
the strange fruit
that
hangs
from
the poplar tree
most times
its
skin is charred
or
covered with
tar
but always
some kind
of
whore’s around
smearing
red lies
on
the lips
of
others
these days
the whore’s
in
the white house
helping
to lynch
the press
and
everyone
who
seeks
to be
free

 

those above the law…

you’re vinegar drops
on the crucifix of time
our blood warmed your feet
but shed blood turns to lava
and so our fate will be yours