"When a man strikes his slave, male or female, 
with a rod and the slave dies under his hand, 
he shall be avenged. But if the slave survives a day or two, 
he is not to be avenged, for the slave is his money."

By God's word we were not people,
Some wretched spawn of the land
Too ripe to break bread with the other-
Side but ripe enough to be conquered
All the sons and daughters of mud
In need of Utopian oppression by
Royalty a bit more civilized than our
Own savage system where tradition
Allows us to trade our brothers' lives
For a defeat with wanton disregard
For his future wrapped in iron, and in 
Rags, in dirt and in blood, bound within
The minds of princes became peasants
Past, from father to daughter mostly
Mother to son on a staircase violently
Struggling to move in any vertical 
Manner allowed by the masters of 
This place who watch in awe as we
Race headstrong into the wrong direction
Climbing over fallen black bodies who
Are regarded as fresh pavement then
Trampled outside of mind-
		"Will they ever learn?"
-yet this is comfortable somewhat
Space created upon austere debris 
spilled from our cousins along cool
waters who have forgotten what they
have done to their brethren, who now
stare at opportunities from across that
sullen ocean, who still live disassembled
and can no longer call us family-
		"Will they ever learn?"
 

Only in death do we find self worth?

Justice lies out of reach unless the whip
Leaves lacerations too deep to heal in
A day or two in the cruel summer sun
Resounding wounds pulse fester with
Warm rot until stressed muscle go numb

No pain present anymore
No pain present anymore

Worthless to the masters now finds
Peace interred next to slumbered souls
Still weary from lifelong toils under 
scrutiny speculated experiment labeled
inferior however significant spectacle

"They are clearly different"

Unproven but still discarded to the
Background and made to wait until
The table needs to be cleared of crumbs
That drop onto the floor quickly scooped
Up made into a meal to suffice the 
Hunger which only becomes unbearable
With the unjust death of someone covered
In distinct darkness where we all seem a little
Inhuman.