soft poems

Listen to poem here

 

i’m tired of soft poems today

i want my words to

jump up and stab a racist cop

put on gloves

sweat and bruise and bleed

help a migrant pick a thorny crop

i want my words

to grab a brick and throw it strong

rearrange themselves

into a Nirvana song

i want my words

to make the black graves of

mississippi hum

grab a stick

and rape that drum

grab that gun

load it

cock it

sit in the hands of Che Guevara’s sons

i want no less

than stress

than a mess of muddy poems

feeding the minds of muddy homes

i want my words…

i want my words to be keys

to minds, to chests

to cells in jails

want them printed

on the rags in Molotov cocktails

i want my words

to flow and be off rhyme

i’m tired of soft poems today

i want my words to change the time

i want my words to change the time

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