Ticks in Burning Boxes

They walk without shoes
Through the Mississippi mud
Of national pride

The bullet headed
Put ticks
In burning boxes
On ballot forms
They’re burning crosses
Tell me it’s brave
When this sweatshop pyre
Smokes
With the ghosts
Of the enslaved

In the red zone
These ineligible
Information receivers
Cut off
Their own jock-straps
To spite their faces
And when they
Talk about
Fought and died
They should
Look to the other side

To the other side
Where those
With heads held high
Where those
Not under stars or stripes
Where those just trying to qualify
Equally
Have fought
Have died

Look to the other side
You’ll see me
You'll see many
Taking a stand
Taking a knee
Creating a more powerful
Display of loyalty
To our fellow
Than their
Ad man's wet dream
Of patriotism
Will ever be