Thursday, 21 January 2016

Racquet Patriots



“Face of Woman” by Pablo Picasso (1962)


Stride down the slippery slope with puss like confidence, they clap for me for who I represent
Racism is the sound of the word Jesus, slicing my syllables before they even slip out
My tongue
Stab arrogance with laughter 
Humour exploited as weapon art
Weaponry
On the grounds the troops run on red feet
Up here they sit in seats with shoulders slouched and tongues tortured
In knots of self proclamation
A scream is a scream regardless of the words belted out
Their cheeks are bloated with racism

With racism the knots in our stomachs are tied over in loops of injustice
Rewind the laughter again
Once more
Allude to defeat with the snickering of silent letters, sentence glory to the guillotine
Lay head upon heads of stubborn endeavor and pour the syrup of patriotism
Racism is a stomach titled down, and back to front, the audience squirms inside baggage
Intended to disgust
And leap from one seat to the other
Swipe off the smirks with patriotism
Scream for miles scream for desire
Scream for disaster

Racism is the lady coughing humour into bags of calories, and self-hatred
The lady whose eyes are shielded with lenses boasting fame but anything but
Connotations of her make us sick
Make us weep
Over blue faces smeared with an outrageous paint  
Treat silence like victory for the coward
Barks across the stadium
They’ll never highlight bad sportsmanship
Racism is kicking the seat of the person in front of besides and next to you
And justice
Justice is the confidence of the children who scream nevertheless