My Siblings

One. Two. Three.

One. Two. Yes.

As I and ma’ President

Go down the same glum mud

I dare call him my pal.

As I and that fella

That pushes the cart brave

The same high sun, I deign

Call him my pal.

As I and that blingy

Merchant in the ritzy Merc

Negotiate the same

Rough path,

Yes, I call him my pal.

As I and that gaunt

Whore that left the red lane

Shareth the same blessings

I must call her my pal.

Yes, I and that nigger

That crossed my path

Have the same pigment

I need call him my pal.

None of my pals may

Not call me them pal.

Yet are we not all

Pals that partake

In the rave of

The same mad atoms,

Yes the same mad atoms?

But then are we all

Not siblings, not just pals

That ‘rose from the same

Primal clay? Yes brother

Yes, ma’ bro President

Yes, ma’ bro President.

Thank you.