Cooked Vanilla: It is ever so much more important to get burned than to live life in a jar.

But I’ll never wake

Up black

With long limbs

And midnight skin


Because this hand is

Gripping blonde

And bitted nails.


Yeah I’ll never stop

Fearing failing Sudan,

Palestine, and Guatemala

With all my fathers’

Wrongs that they

Chained to those lands

And their peoples


Because this hand is

Stained with blood

Spilled by a thousand



But I’ll never leave

You, white flesh

With ancient guilt

And disease-ridden evil


Because this hand is

Also a hand

With which to hold

And mend and make

What we’ll one day

Call change.


Yeah, I’ll never stop


For Germany, Britain,

And “America”


With all my heart

And its

Beating history

I’ll never stop reaching

Past fear of insult

To do something


Like listen.


This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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