Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash

The view is distasteful, bullets aren’t bashful
Hands up, don’t shoot, ears bleed truth
Salute to the fallen eyes of mothers ballin’
Callin’ out to a child that’s no longer
But now soul is roamin’

Did Black lives ever matter in America, 
The land of the free was founded on bad character

No yellow brick roads, yet the Billy Jean era, but my pavement never glowed
Radiant skin tone priceless, sense days of old gunned down lifeless,
Brotha Emmett lynched behind a compliment 

Throughout urban communities wilted rose petals, many misguided by Geppetto
See society’s law of authority, stands apart from Black Lives Matter, ponder on equal liberty, history
The shoes I chose to fit, past life bonded relationships, empathy displayed

Nat Turner emulated, beware of the first wave, 
push for my people through the eyes of a free slave

Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.

Republish our articles for free, online or in print, under a Creative Commons license.

Ralph A. Brown

Ralph A. Brown is a writer incarcerated in California. He has been a spoken word writer since 2003 and finds meaning in reciting emotions and helping empower his listeners. He says it was his way of giving back.