Death don't always taste good...

I have a thing for poets who use their talents to promote causes or uplift and educate the masses. Thats why I decided Sunni Patterson needed a whole post for herself. I don't want to be cliche and call this poem deep because it is so much more than that. Its a compilation of social, moral and ethical issues black people face now and what they faced then. You don't have to be Jewish to feel empathy about the Holocaust. Its the same way you don't have to be black to take something away from this poem. So I advise you to take a solitary moment and take it in :

So I'm from the stock that pitch cocktail bombs and hand grenades. We pour cayenne pepper around the perimeter of a building to keep the police dogs at bay. I'm the panther party in the desire housing project in New Orleans. I'm a nigga turnin the gun on the National Guards. Take a long long look. I'm a cook in the kitchen askin' the missus to taste the dinner, take a long long sip cuz Death Aint Always This Good. I'ts eyes poppin out they sockets. It's lifeless bodies rocking backwards and forward. It's a boy stabbed 47 times in front the churchhouse. It's a man 43 years old stuffing his penis in a 9 year old's girl's mouth. Naw Death Don't Always Taste Good, just don't sound like somethin I wanna eat often. I hear them say it's like a train came through the room. Mama's so depressed she was unable to move until one day a few months after the hurricane, husband and child found the trinity bloody in bed, his wife son and daughter dead, and on the end table their was a letter that read : "I couldn't stay here, not for one minute longer and it made no sense for me to leave here alone cuz who would take care of my babies with their momma gone?" I'm telling you Death Aint Always Good. It'll leave you finnin for water and food. It'll riddle up your body in a Audubon ball room. They'll El Haaj El Malik Shabazz you! Crown you King then dethrone you in a Lorraine hotel. They'll disfigure your body to where folks can't tell whether you Emmet Till or not. Tell them momma. Keep that casket open. Let all the world see it aint just burnin in Mississppi, Hell its hot wherever you be. From the roof top to the cell block. Step on up to the auction block. Bend over, touch your toes. Show yo teeth, Lift her titties, Examine his balls. It damn near soun' like a hip hop song but it's slavery at its peak. A circus fo all the freaks. They'll warn you caution when you speak. Can't afford the truth to leak but we'll say blessed are the meek and are the ones who make peace and are the ones who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness. For we say theirs is the kingdom. Earth is their inheritance so no matter how treacherous, they'll try to trap us in them trenches, they'll dig deeper ditches but all that matters is this. Which side will we pick? Which path will we choose? We either win our lose cuz Death Don't Come In Vain. Not for us to remain enslaved our spirit to remain in cages. It comes so we might be courageous. To fulfil our obligations to our God and all creation and stand in determination. We will look death in the face and say We made it , We made it We made it , We made it....... 

~I'm fifteen miles over the speed and I'm going as fast I can off into my  daydreams~

-Ashani M