Quiet
Poem by John Koldstitch
I'm tired or being "Quiet", and acting like I'm not pissed, Because with all this
[History of Proof] You all can sit back and not say sh*t!
And watch us all die, And have the audacity to sleep. I know you hear my words but for some reason they just don't cut that deep; Or enough I guess. So, Now I care less. No Regrets, No peace. I could kill you all right now and be seen as No less of a beast; That you portray me to be, Why don't you take this heat? Why don't you watch your Great Grandpops hang, Put these ragedy a** shoes on your feet! Look at pics of big lips smiling posing next to bloody white feet while they're dangling from trees.
Oh, and just 60 years later, The ones that look like me, vote and chant for us to be as great as we once were. I dare you to concur, and not rage in these streets; Knowing you're not heard and we're praying for your decease or your silence, Whichever comes first. This is you it's not me. How much could you take knowing that you were not free? You've no wealth from generations, No assets by decree. Not one leader to steer you out. Raised in a Den of thieves. A community full of dope which don't mean sh*t to me! No jobs and no skills, outside of balling or you sing. And to be honest if you do have a job, you should be thankful, and you probably work for me.
But we all know the truth right? That's not you, That's me. I've been in a couple of traps, raised in a den of thieves. A couple of cousins pushing crack like there's no alternate to be, and I sit back and I DREAM of how absolutely blissful it would be, if all white folks for one day, truly knew what it was like to be me.
How would you fight that desire to watch us all bleed? Because you're catching hell's wrath and all you did was breath. And after all of that, you turn around and you see... Me.
Just watching.... Quiet...
How Quiet would you be?
