World Poetry Day

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart / I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars / I am the red man driven from the land, / I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek - / And finding only the same old stupid plan / Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak'Let America Be America Again', Langston Hughes

There comes a time in all of our lives when we find ourselves in the midst of a great moral struggle, and that feeling is very evident this election season. Last week I released my own "literary protest" of sorts to the hatred and bigotry many people want us to believe makes America "great." As promised, here are the words to the poem. Be sure to comment, share and subscribe. Happy World Poetry Day everyone! May our words inspire, inform, and heal.[soundcloud url="https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/252062911" params="auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true" width="100%" height="450" iframe="true" /]Dear Mr. TrumpDear Mr. Trump. America loves you.They love you like they revere the rotten parts of the confederacy,relishing in your bigotry and the callous languagethis country knows all too well.Congratulations. On your thousands of followers,and poll numbers ignorantly trumping the competition betterthan your skyscrapers do the Manhattan skyline.Oh, the beauty of being rich. Dear Mr. Trump. When you promise to make America great AGAIN,which America do you mean?The one where interned Japanese are forced into camps?The America where Blacks are hung, burned and dismemberedin front of cheering crowds?The America where women’s opinions are silenced behindFoolish land-owning stipulations?The America where the stock market crashes into thousandsof empty stomachs lining barren city streets?The America where women must suffer infection and disease because there is no placeto protect their bodies?The America where protest has always and will alwaysbe the strongest force of change?The America where the disabled are mocked and degradedin the public square?The America where freedom of speech and the Second Amendmentare only defendable in the hands of a white male?The America where Natives were annihilatedby petrified, vicious settlers we call heroes?The America where white-washed narratives and pale blue-eyed beautyspread the despicable poison of supremacy and colorismthroughout every corner of this planet?What about the America where lynch mobs and segregationwas legal, commendable, encouraged? Which America are you talking about Mr. Trump? The America you’ve imagined, where yellow badged Muslimsare denied freedom, but white mobs at your rallies are justspeaking their minds?The America that refuses to embrace teenagers traveling 2,000 milesthrough utter hell to avoid being murdered in their own country?The America where 78 pages of paperwork is not enoughto keep the Trojans of Syria from invading your peace of mind?The America where self-righteous blue uniforms send blacks shakingin their Jordans because this beautiful sun-kissed skin we cannot disavowis just so daggone suspicious—to you? Dear Mr. Trump, I realize that since you turned your tassel,the world has been a million dollar uphill battleyou have learned to divide and conquer along the way,and how dare a half African become more powerful—in this great land of opportunity—than you.I see your white privileged dilemma Mr. Trump.Our colors after all areredwhiteblue;murdersupremacybrutality. Dear Mr. Trump. There’s nothing real about this purified estateyou’re building, tryna redevelop the White Houseafter that Negro stayed 8 years too long where he didn’t belong.Say it ain’t so.Life is not made up of winners and losers, Mr. Trump.It’s made of battered war veterans and underpaid teachersand pre-existing conditions and college grads with HUGE debtand adult children caring for their elderly parentsand poor families quarantined to every east and south side of townand grieving mothers hung over the donated caskets of their babiesand Ahmed trying to build a clockand brown business owners gaining citizenshipand suburban families who no longer have to wait for the school busto let off the child they lost in the last mass shootingyet we are the terrorists infecting your white-robed, cone-headedfantasy, who refuse to fly under the safety of the right wing on yourprivate jet. Or have you never heard of these dukes before? I know you believe the art of dealing is second in commandbut you are no Son of God so why don’t you and Wallacekeep your popular legacyand we’ll rescue our over-heated, crumbling Earth in need of saving.you will not apprentice this country to poverty in 1 or 2 terms1 or 2 spurs? left or right? too bad you were too deformed to wear our uniform.you cannot serve 319 million when you are being servedby your second imported supermodel 58 ceilings above Main Street, USA,bullying your way in musth through a GOP you flip-flopped intolike a fish out of water.Better wear a bullet-proof behind your blood-thirsty PD Mr. Trump—wouldn’t want to be Lincoln, Kennedy, Garfield, McKinley.Fire. Even your boy Reagan knew we’d be a nationgone underif you were ever hired. Thank you Mr. Trump. For reminding us in 2016that America is no better than 1846,than racists terrorizing black churches and taunting Latino workersand white officers killing youthand men sexualizing women’s characterand bombing the haystack to look for the needleand delivering degrading speil to riotersand angry mobs suckerpunching anyone who doesn’t look like them,thank you Mr. Trump. For reminding us that America’s greatnesslies in raised hands shouting vows to bombastic speech,that justice for all referred to everyone signing the Declaration(which was one heck of a pale party),that our allies slide further away each time voters circle Trumpon their ballots, knowing in their hearts he’s right.It’s a shame we overestimated our intelligence,don’t realize if we don’t love we’ll die.God shed Your grace on us while selfishness stains us,because a nation that’s a melting pot will always be boiling over.