Je Suis Noir, Puis-Je Compte Pas? (I Am Black, Don't I Count?)
Walking through world news, It’s easy to not hear the crunching of charcoaled bones and Scorched flesh, Beneath the feet of our media giants Waving French flags in the heat of our land, Our deaths were never breaking news for them. Our government always failed to choose us over currency. Left in the darkness of barbaric violence with only Goodluck’s silence to lead us. Our lives, Were never too high a price to be paid on this- World class theatre stage. It’s clear here, we are only extras. Our girls were torn from our grips, Yet it took less than a month for it to slip the minds of our leaders. They considered the NAACP bombings a waste of time And once again the world will turn a blind eye And fall mute to the attack on black lives. At 276, Our girls were left to rescue and avenge themselves, I wonder - If 2000 will cause the world to mourn like they have for Charlie? Or will the wind carry the sickly stench of burnt flesh, Alive with oxygenated blood, Across the seas to be lost in the midst of Western city fumes? How is it that black lives always seem to lose? Je Suis Ne Pas Charlie. Je Suis Noir, Puis-Je Compte Pas?
@JustJumi 12.1.15 #BagaHolocaust