He walks slowly down gentrified streets
In shoes a half a size too small
Watching ghosts shuck, jive, and slap five
Remembering a time when it was cool to be black
Now all the faces are blank
Emotionless, scared, and soulless
In his hand me down threads
Outdated and faded
He is now the ghost
Invisible
Haunting the new tenants of conquered land
Once rich in love and spirit
Full of culture and playing children.
Once occupied by the native
Black, brown, and proud
Now colonized by clones
Hipsters, millennials, and squares
With artificially manufactured swag
Cultural appropriations they call it
White girls with Bantu knots
Injected lips and asses
White boys rockin Flavor Flav T’s
Baggy jeans and Timbs and shit like that
Like it's a new thang
And that old black ghost
Walking down gentrified streets
Remembers the days of glory
When it was cool to be black
Now invisible
Forgotten
Robbed and erased
Swagger Jacked and replaced
By soulless clones with no culture
A ghost amongst the walking dead
About the Creator
Monsoor Ali
I am an artist, writer, teacher, producer, activist, and student of life...Based in Washington DC.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.