The Lynching of Trayvon Martin’s Ghost  

Once upon a time there was

an uppity seventeen year ole black male                

who thought he had the right

to walk around a neighborhood looking at houses

 

 Armed with three extremely deadly weapons

a pack of Skittles – a can of Arizona Tea and a Cell phone        

minding his own business – not bothering anybody

until he was spotted by an Hispanic cracker        

 

 Now this good ole Southern Hispanic cracker

just knew that this young black male wearing a hoodie was

up to no good looking for a house to break into

a delicate innocent Southern flower to molest and ravish

 

 For all good ole southern crackers both Hispanic and

white know that young black males are the worst of the lot

when it comes to crime – dealing illegal drugs – shooting each

other – disrespecting delicate southern flowers er white women        

 

 So this wanabe hero who was packing a pistol

began to follow this young black fellow

as he walked down the street minding his own business

took out his cell phone and called the police

 

 Who told this wanabe hero to stop following

the seventeen year old boy walking down the street

let him know officers were on the way

to look into this mighty suspicious character

 

 Ignoring the 911 dispatcher this good ole Hispanic

cracker threw caution to the four winds of misfortune

chose to confront the young black male on his own

whose only crime was to walk around in public while black

 

As to whom started the fight – threw the first punch

only these two know for certain

one is lying – moldering within his untimely grave

the other – this author believes – is out right lying

 

 This seventeen year old black male chose to stand

his ground by refusing to be intimidated – to cast his eyes

to the ground below – fall upon his knees before this

wanabe masa boss man in abject submission like a slave

 

 Not being much of a man nor a hero

the Hispanic cracker soon found himself

falling upon his back beneath a rain of blows

so he pulled his pistol and shot this poor boy        

 

 At his trial this wanabe hero now a coward

claimed self defense – refused to take the stand

let his two faced lawyers put his victim on trial

sat in his chair just like a good little wanabe girl

 

 Choosing to ignore and disregard certain

key elements of these tragic events

the jury composed of six wimmin – delicate southern flowers

five white and one who appeared to be Hispanic

 

 Voted to let a killer walk free among us

chose to hang the ghost of a seventeen year old

black male from the limb of the nearest tree

where it still swings in the wind to this very day

 

 Now all you mama’ and papa’s of a certain color

heed my warnin cause nothin has changed much down south

keep yo home bois in the ghetto of their own neighborhood

lest they find themselves being shot defending themselves                

 

 Their very souls swinging from the limb of the nearest tree

while their killer walks free having gotten away with murder

because of the racial stereotypes good ole southern crackers

keep hidden alive and well within their pea pickin hearts

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