-Mike Brown Ferguson- ....Im now afraid for my son to live in a place I once called home. A place where people love their neighbors and where if you ask me to make it know it is shown. Fathers cant sleep, visions of my sons blood on a street. Shrine laid there is the only thing unique about it. Love no longer known...in my hood. Faces expendable like the wood that burden his memorial. Candlelight above on liken to doves who honor our lost sons. Songs of secluded anger...misunderstood skin. Bleeding from within. Church houses praying with no answers from the Almighty. Lord is this justice or just us in an land stolen to put us to work only to die on the very lands my fathers tilled. Yet we yield ourselves to oppression, bloody and bowed. Broken and lamed. The shame and horror of a mothers cries. She frantically rubs her thighs. Remembering the scent of one said son ...taking out 6 Times....6 times...6 times...by an government issued gun. Why was he not clubbed or stunned. Why was he not detained. Why was he not pursued could not the officer run? My city...home of blues, sassy women, country grammar news. Misunderstood men. Socially aware intellectually deprived. Minimum wage is the normal and to the common that we still rise. The war on us. The war on US...the curse of melanin bless with the secrets of life in high eyes we must die. Education is a must tell your brother to grab a text...learn all you can get out and break the norm be successful because you could be next. Bullets with a color-coded gps. No justice no rest!!! Hands UP.. HAND UP...no more vigils....Vigilant is the new mask of city. ....Im now afraid for my son to live in a place I once called home. A place where people love their neighbors and where if you ask me to make it know it is shown. Fathers cant sleep, visions of my sons blood on a street. Shrine laid there is the only thing unique about it. Love no longer known...in my hood.
Posted on: Tue, 25 Nov 2014 03:36:25 +0000