Denied Entry by Jean Russet
Black blanket outside my window.
Won’t be dark for too long though.
Invisible air getting colder.
That’s how life lets you know.
The seasons are changing, and I’m getting older.
Trying to grasp every precious moment.
Grasp the opportunity when it’s showing.
Waiting patiently for when I know when.
That I can leave this prison and pitiless confinement.
And corporations that force early retirement.
That deny work to qualified people.
And age discriminate and treat women unequal.
And claim they’re being fair all along.
And don’t understand why he takes a knee.
Not for the black, but for all the people.
The people you never set free.
The ones that you keep enslaved.
That the uppercrust look at some kind a way.
The one’s that are looked down upon.
Their whole way of being being frowned upon.
Y’all do anything to stay in power.
And all y’all do is subvert justice.
Hiding behind laws that don’t serve their purpose.
And create some have’s and some have nots.
Opressing women and making them work
Doubly hard for everything you got.
Sexually assualted and told to stay quiet.
Because you have the authority to deny them
a way to make a living. A way to get risen.
Keep them all on the plantation.
Keep them all in debt to you.
Keep the lies in the music.
Keep the demons and the junk food.
Deny sick people healthcare.
So that they go self-medicate.
And stand in line for the welfare.
Better that than their own welfare.
When I get up out this prison,
I’m coming back to grab my people.
Brothers and sisters with felonies.
With art in their hearts and song melodies.
And I’ll hang you by your background check.
And watch you dangle as it chokes your neck.
And you breathe your very last breath.
And justice was served on Earth.
How about that?
Photo credits / Stephanie Duncan