Ferguson, Mo., August 9, 2014, 18 year old Michael Brown was shot to death, unarmed, and holding up his hands retreating from the police officer.

The Color of My Skin

You recall me now
But then I was just a black man
in my own part of town
walking after dark

But for a cop, I wasn't even human
Just a black man walking on the street
in my own part of town
that he felt he wanted to shoot down.

With my hands held high
I walked away from the man
It took six shots for him to stop
Some in my arms and one in my head.

I was shot dead
An unarmed black man
with my hands held high
in my own part of town

But rules are rules
and when you are
of a certain age
of a certain build
of a certain color
The cop points the gun
and shoots in your direction

Shot in my upraised arms
shot in the face
an unarmed black man
in my own part of town

And then the judge said:
All they do is fuck and drink
All they're good for
Ain't worth a shit.

You recall me now
in the police artist
it wasn't really my face that you remembered
but it was the color of my skin
and the way I was built.


Poetry by Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 463 times
Written on 2014-11-25 at 03:08

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France England
Most respectfully, thank you for the display of great courage as well as the beautiful wisdom handed down to you from your generation of love and kindness of every human on earth. Color? Hummmmm, what if we were all the same color? I be bored to no end. I see you in the light of heaven's bliss. Thank you so very much for the insight of the Rainbow's End. It is the power of good and evil that do what seems right to them. Color is just a tool used when nothing else will do

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Exactly. Happens all of the time.