Being Black

Cops, rocks, locksMothers weeping, brothers seekingA gone sibling, friend or daughterFamilies, sirens and preachers wailin’-Howling, blubbering, sobbingBut Luther King said keep on prayin’.  Burnt, beaten, blastedThose 4 dead bodies layAn’ 23 more wounded, in just another white play White’s lives are nice, black’s are liceJust flicked away like lice, blacks die in painBlacks are nothing but a dirty stain. The cauldron of resentment bubbling over,Years of tearsHours of sourGenerations of abominationStirred together,Just from-Dynamite10 sticksA memory that sticks,In the hearts of the blackTangled, gnarled, curledGlass, cars, concreteRuin; Just for Being Black. 

This poem is about: 
My country
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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