Poetic Justice

To celebrate the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington I offer up this poem I wrote awhile back.

Poetic Justice

Yid, Kyke, Injun, Mick,

Wop, Dago, Guido, Spic,

Slope, Ruskie, Kraut, Frog, Beaner, Polack,

Curry Muncher, Hymie, Rice Eater, Wet Back,

Nigger, Chink, Hop-Sing, Shenney, Camel Jockey, Zipper Head,

Gook, Nip, Sambo, Half-Breed, Queer, Faggot and Rag Head.

Pretty vile terms for most

but Betty’s daily language.

She just needed someone

to blame for her failures.

Her racist language and hate

drove away a husband

and her daughter Anna

refused to let

the Grandkids

near her anymore.

Anna had barely survived

growing up in such

a racist household

she certainly wasn’t going to expose

her children to such verbal poison.

Being consumed with so much hate

took its toll on Betty’s health.

One’s brain and heart eventually fail

when force-fed so many toxins.

Betty’s family wanted no part of her so

she ended up in the county nursing home.

The irony is now the only ones

who daily talk to her

and give her comfort

are a black nurse

named Helen who

works the day  shift,

a Hispanic nurse

named, Lupita who

works afternoon turn

and Tom a gay nurse

on midnight turn.


The Roots: “Can’t Turn Me Around” (Civil Rights Song)

The Impressions: “People Get Ready”

“At the heart of racism is the religious assertion that God made a creative mistake when He brought some people into being.” – Friedrich Otto Hertz

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