My words are angry.
My poetry
doesn’t even feel like me.
I know love is healing
but I don’t feel very loving.
Dead Black bodies in the street
murdered with impunity
I’m so angry!
And I’m not the type to advocate anarchy
but I relate to those people raging in the street.
I understand.
I empathize.
I sit at work with tears in my eyes.
Why does a mother feel the need to humanize
her murdered child for a public quick to demonize?
“He was college bound.
A good boy.
My only child. My pride and joy.”
She knows they probably won’t care
about this pain that seems too much to bear.
They won’t look in to her eyes
and see themselves there.
Jesus fix it!
I’m so angry!
Police dogs aimed at angry people
doesn’t quell rage
it builds it.
They ain’t shit.
Pushing buttons on a bomb
then pretending surprise when it explodes.
But the sheeple still see animals
because they WANT to.
Fighting for humanity
Fighting for the right to breathe
Trying to retain my sanity
Hiding the anger within me
Sojourner asked “Ain’t I a woman?”
Dana asks, “Ain’t we fucking humans?”
Post racial America
disappoints again.
HRHDana 
These words are the type that plant the seeds of revolutionary change within the hearts and minds of society. Our poets and other artists reflect the vital signs of a community, of a people.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this part of you, Sister Dana.
Trevor I’ve been writing for weeks but it’s all cuss words. Sighs Thank you for reading. Thank you for your kind words.
This is so… words are failing me…. Potent.. Powerful. These words should be projected far and wide. So heartbreaking, so real. Something has to give… Things cannot go on like this.