The Revolution May Not Be Televised But Black Death Will
A poem inspired by Noname’s Song 33, Gil Scott-Heron’s speech and Janelle Monae’s Hell You Talmbout.
The revolution may not be televised
But Black death will
Broadcast on every news site
Graphic murder and blood spilled
The demon on my shoulder
Shifts his weight to my neck
With a knee pressed against me
I can't catch my breath
Surveillance and stalking
Wherever we wanna go
No wondering round Sainsbury’s
Without security in tow
It’s the white women too
Unashamed of their stares
There’s no way a little negro
Could afford the same town as theirs
ACAB
there is no good cop really
My skin is all it takes
for the pigs to whine and fear me
They don’t give a fuck
If you were top of your class
Reek of innocence and kindness
You only need to cross paths
It’s not getting worse
It’s just getting filmed
Sure, live-stream our deaths
We love getting killed
Black squares say nothing
Not even the names
Of those who had to be murdered
To gain value or pained fame
George, Mike, Toyin
Freddie Gray, Daniel Prude
It’s a problem in the states
But we’re fucked up here too
In front of her son
Joy Gardner lost her life
Restrained, gagged, suffocated
They wanted to put her on a flight
And then there’s Sarah Reed
A victim of assault
Found dead in her cell
But it's never their fault
Sheku was beaten
With batons and force
When its a Black man
They have no remorse
Mark Duggan was shot
Back in 2011
“Lawful killing” they called it
An excuse for oppression
Jimmy was a father
He had five children
A six week trial
freed the G4S guards that killed him
This summer was heavy
Tonnes of pain and grief
Seems like we woke people up
Seeing their new disbelief
Yet after it all
The silence returns
Do Black lives still matter?
Cause there's little concern.
