United in Divison
United in Divison
Colonial ruling, precursor to American drooling over ideas of separation, waste of the Black nation, for we are united in division, our revolution won’t be on television, but realized on the block of justice, corner store of peace, for all our complexity we’re still the least, last in wealth, wealth of Western atrocity, the creation of our democracy, that all men are created equal, expect the those who outer being has no earthly good, the them that live in that hood, the ones who word ain’t no good, jive turkeys.
We sailed, and you hailed, yourself as the beginning of greatness, the savors of humanity, who could believe your vanity, you marked our skin, like our bodies were letters for labor, and then blessed your voyage as if hate was something to pray-for, many a few jumped overboard, to escape the hell you curated, trying to create heaven, trying to play God, who could believe these frauds, you settled, conquistadores of a future full of hierarchy, oligarchy of men who call themselves West, while you beat your subjects whos bodies weren’t allowed to rest, and impressed your culture, in hopes of creating master race, and traced a trail of tears, from sea to shining sea, the seas painted and tainted, from the bodies of lesser, who could believe the gesture. 1776, Thomas Jefferson called for an end to slavery, who could question his bravery, while his plantation of evil made the aftertaste not so savory.
The United States of the Disphora, the temporary worth of euphoria, to rule the mens and the thems who can’t swim, stims, from the creation of separate, the boats of cells, the depths of hells, firey gates open for the welcoming of settlers, hecklers who march the streets, the real defeat of Columbus’s feat, at the feet of the Lord where man retreats, and swears his feet skins pure as sheep. Rise to speak, to say that you seized the day and the land of the savage, ravaged through culture, stepped over Brown skin like vulture, then pull out the bible and begin to pray, who does Christ look like?
I say my body is a temple, but life isn't so simple, if it weren't for the sheer disrespect and disregard of my peers, it all links to fear, that feeling that despotic rulers are near, their right to bear arms and our lack to bear witness, we pin this on whiteness but it isn't so sinless, it's endless. A Rice, brown, Massey, Hampton, Floyd, Martin, all disparted from this earth because of the cardinal of fear, that because this skin is darkened and blemished, an outbreak of violence was near, the sheer force of my rounded nose is the key to my soul, that when you suppress it, inflect great pain onto it, suffocate it until it breathes its last breath, and raise your chest to say that the west is best while stressing that God knows best, and that he gave you this land, and greenlighted these hands to, beat your black body til it’s black and blue.
Divided and decided that negro means less, brand us as you confess to the murderous crimes you possessed and processed ready for a capital-filled future, give up your land, today’s big loser. Destroy my temple to build yours, grand cathedrals filled with evil, the brick of steeple built by the so-called feeble-minded negro, we are violent, but let us not forget Martin, his head pierced like a spartan, or Martin whose Black body was ripped apart, tried to break his heart, or Hampton, whos ultimate crime was ensuring Black kids would eat on time, whos Black body to you wasn’t worth a dime, but worth all the corruption in the world because of your evil consumption, of the bread of man, which fill your pan, of plans to prevail and preserve and force we serve, your ultimate clan.
West, the best of civilization, the hallmark of human achievement, if you ignore the inhumanity, glorification of insanity, that our fathers who not in heaven the seven of your sins, the pridefulness of your barrage on humans, the greed to bleed those who stood in your way of conquest, lusting over Native and enslaved women, but claimed the sinnin’, envy of other European achievement, need for competition driven by aristocrats, your gluttony that proceeds you, that your ego overfeeds you, your wrath you enact, while the bodies, they stack, your sloth and laziness to force the weak, to build your temples and buildings of prideful superhuman evil.
My people are united in division, the byproducts of visions to imprison the souls with goals to crush our spirit, from Timbuktu to Ethiopian origins of Christ, our Black temples have paid the price, and sliced our culture, split our people, for riches inhumane, inflicting pain onto those whose skin has stained, trained our people to associate evil with you, because you have no clue what it means to aboriginally be me.
copyright © micah hill 2024
