August 28th, 1955
A fourteen year old beautiful black boy Emmett Louis Till
Had his share of the disease
A fucking believe that all members of each race possess
characteristics, abilities or qualities specific to that race,
especially so as to distinguish it as inferior or superior to
another race or races.
Is a selfish hatred which boils beyond alcohol and has the
melting point lower than ice could be, don’t dare to be racist
What did Till do?
Whistled, just to flirt with a white girl
Lynched beyond perceptions
Boots and baseball bats flying and shuttering the feeble head
of innocent Emmett
Till his eyes which were like river stones gushed out from his
This is brutal
Still, some knows nothing of how his Mum wept and swept
the remains of the glass that furious discrimination broke.
They know nothing of how her intestines turns and fire like a
thunder storm anytime she sees little black boys play across
the street of a grocery store
How do you feel when fighting a dead man?
I can’t believe why the definers of Democracy are the most
craziest when it comes to racism
Now they say “whats up hommies”
They say smile wide so they can make fun out of niggers
They say “show me ya ribs”
You are, we are their TLM
That Emmett Till will come for them
Their fucking belief will leave and our skin color shall eclipse
Do we not bleed if pricked as you do?
Hell is empty cos all the demons are on earth
21 gun salute to Emmett Till
Till Till’s graveyard becomes a playground of The Bryant’s
Spoken word poetry ©Tyba Poetry 2014