shhh…

listen!

can you hear that?

it’s the subtle sounds of

struggle stepping through my veins—

better than the

sodium thiopental

they trying to subdue me with.

I’m witnessing

witnesses

witness

my own murder.

they want my chants to be gurgles!

my protest screams to be dream

that I never wake from!

I’m 360 tommy gun

busting back like Bolivia

my adrenaline

is like a raging river running!

I became DRIVE frontline soldier

coz i was sick & tired

of being sick & tired.

they squealed Expire! Expire!

I yelled Fire! Fire!

as I unloaded the heat from my heart.

I’m  the spark in the dry prairie,

the ripple in the pond.

a sista told me—

“keep writing,

 keep fighting.

 Right those wrongs.”

I say

keep singing that song

coz I move

to the groove

of guerillas like in Congo.

death row

is no different than the 3rd World

coz  po’ folks is dying,

thus why I’m only half the POET I am

coz I’m  PO’ and trying

to make a difference—

living off noodles and

Common instrumentals

Calmly instructing – they- mentals

I had an epiphany and said

silence ain’t living.

walking to these executions is giving

the wrong impression….

Like it’s ok.

I’ll be Che in a white jump suit for the day.

and if i see tomorrow

I’d like to kiss my daughter

and see God in her eyes

and if you think death row is just

look at the 100 plus and rising that went free.

I’m on a rise to be free.

your stigmas don’t fit me

we need to wake up and see

that those who are Pro D-P are

C-R-A-Z-Y

Why?

Coz genocide sickness runs deep in this country since 1492

and we’re reminders of strange fruit

coming to a sterile room near you!

tree limbs & gurney beds

are proud amerikan heirlooms,

but for us it’s no room for error.

ain’t that some shit?

I’m ashamed to live amongst these oxy-morons

and if I don’t sing along to

“Oh beautiful for spacious skies”

it’s not because I’m a terrorist,

but coz things are so ugly it makes me cry

tears heavy from

Blood in my Eyes.

Get Rich or

Die Trying

that’s the pun in Capital Punishment,

but there’s no fun in botched executions!

I found the sun in this dungeon of seclusion

growing like a baobab tree

inside me-

turning this prison industry

into a prism symmetry.

I won’t be defeated

even when death kisses my lips

coz I done made love to life long before

and I will be the love in your life long after.

these times we face are utterly drastic,

but I plan to

defy all odds.

Kenneth Foster "Haramia"