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December 2004 • Vol 4, No. 11 •

Two Poems by Black Feeling

The Results of...

Lives lost, is the cost
A million dead, a million fled
Covered heads, burning beds
Religiously misled, hungry people unfed
Leftover tombs, unhealing wounds
Deserted homes, loud moans
Open graves, tortured slaves
Power stricken, with diseased affliction
Careless souls, unachieved goals
Censorious times, unloving minds
All this is for, a meaningless war!


 

Man has Become Money

by Black Feeling
We in the penitentiary
Are being tortured and tormented
Slowly distorted and tormented
Our lives a high commodity
An article of human trade
We be the new Amerikkkan slave
The prison system a common era
Privatized by tyrannical orgies
The future for us, jail or morgues
Warehoused, stocked and shipped
Fed enough to live another day
Worked to death to earn slave-wage pay
Convicts are the Amerikkan dream
We’re the crust of their pie
Their creamy apple filling is mortified
A billion dollar industry
Can’t say stocks and bonds aren’t invested
Before implementing their plan, it was fool-proof tested
We have become the U.S.A.’s foundation
On which the economy stands
They confine, condemn, and reach no demands
Bob Barker knows
His toiletries tell no lies
We have become gold in disguise
Treated like cattle
Branded with numbers, that’s how
We be the new mad bulls and cows
Soon to be auctioned off
Shipped over seas
To third world countries to build penitentiaries
In Penn-Cell-Veinia
This is where it all started
The USA’s first capitalizer
Off the jailhouse market.

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