-Revolutionary in Uniform-
In your time they held picket signs
wore black pants tucked in black boots with black berets as cherries on top.
In my time with hoods over our heads
we sag our pants to protest.
Cryptic, quaint , silent, nonviolent.
Yet everywhere, loud thunderstorms over earthquakes, somewhere in your subconscious screaming, something is terribly wrong with society.
The perfect weapon
Lost tribes of youth wide legged; John Wayne walking.
Hidden faces , hijabed hoodelms
ashamed of the landfill we were born in.
Flying pants at half-mast for the brave souls
dead and dying to live America’s dreams.
Born from prison culture
lest we forget we live in a prison culture.
The forgotten (Leonard Peltier), the wrongfully accused (Anthony Graves), the electrified (Jesse Mott, Bluitt Burkley,Thurman Burkley) , the injected (Stanley Williams) and the belt noosed self-inflicted (Matthew Brockman).
Walking around beltless
they accuse youth of promoting homosexual prison behavior.
Let them walk.
Lest we forget the victims of sexual abused sodomy given permission to run rampant by countless wardens.
The seriousness of male sexual violence has been ignored
So we sag for them. All of them.
The ignoble denim bumper sticker reading
“Support our inmates” .
Lost tribes of youth
Telling America to lip lock their backsides
For refusing to pull up
a sagging economy, sagging schools, sagging neighborhoods.
A multitasking battle.
Fighting uptight waist strangled persons with aluminum foiled badges labeled
Authority: Obey me.
Or those vigilantes who would like to wear white hoods once again, that are always trying to kill me if I ever walk by in a hoodie.
Even those who wear their belts and loose the hoods are still stopped questioned and frisked for the color of their skin
we sag for them.
The perfect protest
Louisiana, Georgia, Chicago fine and impose prison culture to pacify beltless freedom fighters.
America you have clipped and outright crippled the arms and legs of men with your flashy limousine of consumer conformity license plated AMCNDRM.
Reminded we are not the chosen passengers
We are run down with the guarantee of a better life made easy, in the throes of helpless wheel chairs.
Refusing to sit
forever pushed by bulky cinder block hands
we stand to sag proudly
against a society who will not pull us up with love
making sure we are securely snug around your waist
so we do not waste
as bodies sagging in back alleys or behind baskets of barbed wire.
America head, held so high John Wayne walking.
Look down and notice
we are slipping off
eventually left to fall, wrapped around your ankles
tripping over your own selfishness into destruction.
Hooded sweat shirt with backside bulging out
I am a revolutionary in uniform .