What happens when rotten strange fruit…
Hanging from trees of auction block wood
Become stinking pieces of black flesh…
Dried blood putrefying in murderous streets…?
When crystallized tears of remorse…Laden and
Loaded with explosive grief…Flow down weary
Faces wrinkled by time’s trials, tribulations and
Treacherousness and neglect of freedom, justice
And equality all become like inconsequential
Sunned raisins and festering sores…?
When visions of deferred dreams become blurred
Realities,
Fogged by the steam of volcanic anger…Pray tell…
What happens?
Pray tell…What happens? And then what?—Please,
Pray tell!