For Mr. T.Y.

For an old gentle-man,

broken, even as a child, by what he’s done,

rebuilt by his own hand, with the help of Allah, the most merciful,

destroyed again by an uncaring, abusive system that I work for.

Holly Near said it-

Why are the weapons of the war so young?

And why are there always only older men around when it’s done

And why are so many of our soldiers black or brown?

Do we say it’s because they’re good at cuttin’ yellow down?

Well that’s just a lie

One of the many and we’ve heard plenty

I don’t want more of the same

No more genocide in my name


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