It’s after midnight.
This isn’t a Slowhand song.
You oughta be in bed.
I wrote this earlier and set it up to publish now because I was hoping you’d still be up.
Or maybe just waking up on another side of the world.
Either way this word’s for you.
You deserve it.
Consider it a gift,
my way of saying thank you for your presence.
I am asleep but
you are awake
so I left you a few words to keep you company.
This is a test.
This is only a test.
The alarm you are hearing is not real.
What follows is not the news you were expecting.
It is the information you need to be ready when the time comes.
When this is not a test.
So pay attention
but don’t live in fear.
Listen for the alarm but keep an ear open to the birdsong.
Because you never know.
This may not be a test.
So suddenly this is a news?
My friend you’re confused.
Murder in this nation
is state sanctioned.
I hear the sound.
I see another
black man down.
Would you pull the trigger if the runner had my skin?
Here stick your fingers in the holes where the bullets went in.
Dead is dead.
Blood is red.
There on the ground,
running fast from another
black man down.
The problem you see is AWB,
not even safe in his own country.
“Alive while black.”
Get shot in the back.
to give witness to why
a black man’s down?
I’ve got news for you, my friend.
The truth will out in the end.
You been trying throughout history
like you nailed that colored man to that tree.
But justice is gonna rise up from the ground
because you can’t keep
a black man down.
I stand midst falling bloom,
forget a moment my crawling doom
that is my mortal dread
whilst bright petals rain bout my head.
For now though am I a man of Spring,
Time shall soon to me a Winter bring
and I shall rest in silence neath frozen ground,
my quilt these faded flowers that were my crown.