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Ku Klux Koup

About America on Jan 6th Greg Powell wrote a poem

Ku Klux Koup

(Artwork by David Horsey, © Tribute Content Agency)

disruptive image on screen snatches
eyes. media faces strain to describe
moving images moving beyond fence
of comprehension: the Queen pundit
gives them truth to speak and they
call them rioters, reluctantly, sight dimmed
by lens corrupted for 400 years. Summer
home owning normal American’s
adorned in horns of dead gods and gods
soon to be murdered by these poems,
and common feet stomping pavement
until asphalt yeilds to earth soil
yearning, demanding to sprout new things .
knee on the neck/ whip on the back

Making America slaves again
Making America rapists again

Shots fired at fort Sumter shouting
Through crazed mob tongues
Shoot Lincoln in the head
Shoot Martin in the face
Tear down the statues
Beat the cop to death
Every breath a hate feeder
Ants spreading over butterfly corpse
Rain of glass shards and chipped stone
Broken bones and broken groans
I see what the pundit cannot describe
The white one tongue mortified
By white rioters we remember from Tulsa and
Chicago and East St Louis and WEB’s
Atlanta litany whose children play

In pundits back yard in enclaves
Domiciles housing 80,000 square feet
of greed gone mad from media toxins
wavy haired prophets of death cult
packing 9mm military gear and zip ties
to assassinate the future/ to abduct rape
and murder the congresswoman who dares
to demand our share. I bear witness
we seen this before in flames of night riders
and bungalow in-humans hurling
Molotov cocktails in Black family homes
same hate that make America great, again.
I bear witness to the horned evangelical
uttering his bull-horned prayer
in name of white Jesus the anti-Christ
to god of whiteness giving offerings
of policeman’s broken dead flesh

calling on him to bless the devils
calling on him to bless the devils

and god of whiteness answers him
because he is praying to himself.
father son and holy ghost of lies
blessing death and deaths desired.
I bear witness to these things
through Hueman eyes and soul
We have come so far, to return to this crossroad of
hope and hell. They cannot
stop the tide so they assault the ocean.
I seen this before/ shocked but not moved.
the day was lost, the ocean tormented
by storm of manufactured rage.
but we are the tide
One Love rising, and it don’t stop
Equity rising/ and it don’t stop
new nation rising/ and it don’t stop
common hands reaching/ and it don’t stop
America feet marching/ and it don’t stop
Sun shine dispersing storm/ it don’t stop
Huemanity rising from rubble/ and it don’t stop.