The Death & Burial Of Kanye West-I

The opening of that
classic song says
‘nothing‘s ever promised tomorrow today’ that same energy
that kept us afloat
is now a millstone
around our her neck—
beckoning us to look
this way in that,
even though it hurts
our whole body
to do so.

looking at what
promise, privilege and power
does when at the core
the soul which was Black
is now White—
not by the washing of the Word
Or of the Blood,
but by the seeking of
validation of those who only know subjugation as power.

how ironic that villains of
This world whom prey on
The hungry desperate of power
Devoid of peace
seduce a prophet from
the midpoint of this
of these disjointed United States
to join into that dance
that is, and will always
call you nigg3r.

How befitting
he betrayed all that
he is all and he was—
with his mother already be dead?

how fitting it is
His father,
who he did say
he loved him so
can no longer be found
when he is in the throes
of what it means to be
Black and man
seeming to reject both!

at this time
in this space
and in this very place
at the time where 45
has been deep-sixed
that we may live again
to see 46
that he at age 45
be stuck between boy and man.

Wanting us all to follow him—
This Pied Piper forgetting
We know how that story ends;
betraying all that he is
all that his mother told him
all that the streets gave him—
drying tears opening doors,
to bestow title of genius!

Yet…we who demand accountability
who are alive and remain
to demand the better,
now we are now the problem…

and yet he wants us to not clap at his downfall

We already know the Chi town‘s finest ain’t always found on the mile.