Butch

My last of February. In respect of Black History Month, I’ve been reading African- American poets, Harlem Renaissance and such. I’ve been wanting to understand the voices of poetry, although I’m sure likely our brothers and sisters neither want nor need me speak for them.
This feels angry, perhaps more so as I feel it’s not for me to say, although it says what I've said when sometimes I've been angered. 


Butch

I was told I’m not a man,
And I told that young man,
  No!

I was told I can’t own land,
And I told that old man,
  No!

I was told "Get outta here,
You and your damn ass disappear"

I been told a lotta shit
And I told all them,
  No!

I am a man and I own land,
And I am telling you,
  I do!

I’m not going nowhere,
But when I want to,
  I’ll Go There!

I earn American green money,
So don’t tell me my credit’s
  Funny,

I ‘m here, I’m now, and I shall vote,
I’m telling you, you best 
  Take Note!

You Haters preach, but I don’t care,
You put away your spiteful stares,

I will be free, I do declare,
And Yes!
  I’m telling you!