Opinion

Alagi Yorro Jallow: Black Lives Matters

George Floyd, the knee on his neck,

The groans, the begging to breathe. He died.

America, the land of paradox, land of opportunity,

A Land of threat where back lives do not matter

Where racism and political tribalism entrenched

The troubling obsession with political tribalism

The Constitution threatened by political tribalism

Where police bestiality

Police brutality is institutionalized

Where racism and race realism is on the rise again

And White Supremacy and political tribalism

Matters.

War against blacks by White Supremacist

Genocide or ethnic cleansing of sorts.

Where blacks are falsely-Incarcerated

Racism against blacks. For one, it’s institutional.

In Minneapolis, the savagery of their claws

Are still profoundly felt in the blighted pores

Of negroes and all peoples of color

Long dead may be racial segregation laws

But lives, their ghosts still haunt and devour

All over America intact still is the ugly picture

Of a police system so racially flawed.

The latest victim was George Floyd

Intercepted for trying to forge

Crudely out of his car brought

He was from behind handcuffed

And to the ground pinned with force

Thus restrained already he was

To passerby that was so obvious

Arrest should have been the recourse

Were the killer’s law-abiding cops

But no, to death was George floored

His nose was on the cold tar rubbed

His face, against hard surface brushed

His neck, knee-pinned as he coughed

“I can’t breathe” he yelled to all

“My neck…stomach…everything hurts”.

He desperately sobbed and urged

Chauvinist Derek Chauvin refused to budge

Brandishing a grin implacably murderous

Tou Thao, one of the four killer-cops

Short in build, of Asian-American Blood

Kept a pacing watch, in sadistic pleasure

As George, “a lesser being” on the ladder of color

Was being of his humanity and life robbed

For help dying George Floyd called

As he struggled very hard to talk

Thirsty for water, he faintly called

Just like Jesus Christ did on the Cross

But the unyielding, applied knee force

In the end, he broke his larynx and vocal cords

Mouth silent, eyes closed, consciousness lost

He was pitilessly stretchered out of the world

The promise of equal treatment of all by law

Is a cruel joke, tragic farce or just plain false

A caged “black monkey” under police lock

Is a beast to be beaten, maimed and crushed

For this is the often forgotten historical lot

Of people of George’s race and status

In the hands of uniformed brutes and wolves

Posing as humane servants of the law

And though repealed maybe Jim Crow law.

Blacks are citizens who have equally helped build America.

With their sweat and blood

But laws have always been made

Whether as explicitly as slavery

And Jim Crow or implicitly to alienate

Degrade, dehumanize and Diminish them.

When black Americans were being gunned down or being Disproportionately imprisoned

Institutionalized police bestiality police brutality

Justifying a penchant for petty crime

This desperation is just painfully embarrassing.

Sometimes I feel to be black in America.

Is akin to a woman, in an arranged marriage

With an abusive husband.

With full knowledge that it is not true love

That formed the union.

But a forced facade of togetherness.

Never knowing when the abuse will come,

But always prepared for the inevitable smackdown

Acting surprised when the violence surfaces

while understanding

The relationship was built on violence.

I admit, I see, and am a product of it.

A land of opportunity where you can make billions

And be a billionaire, shooting a ball,

Singing a song, creating a business

A land of paradox, a land of threat,

Where you can get shot

Playing outside, wearing a hoodie,

Selling a cig, jogging in the park

As America’s reputation sinks

Lower in the exposure of its rot.

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