my kids are not super predators, they turn capitalist hustlers when you take money out of


put it straight into police and


those for profit prisons have a super revolving door. customer service agents for some multinational corporation, for 20 cents an hour.

new plantations look like a worse hell than being in open air picking


don’t know what goes on in solitary confinement. besides: vents that blow

hot air

into a 5 by 10' cell in the summer heat, super loud heavy metal music for 23 hours a day, and rotting food i wouldn’t feed a feral cat.

sounds like the other

guantanamo. i rode by one down south. unsurprised that kids go to school in quickly built (and quickly removable) super shitty trailers, while the new


looks super expensive, super high tech, a “safe” and “secure”,

permanent fixture, fuckin up the landscape.

10,000 newly untrained police officers just

super ready

to shoot, without due process, then super protected on administrative leave till it all quiets down. but only in some neighborhoods, and only with

some people.

when you decide that welfare “reform”, is more important than a

pleasant place to live, parks to play in, and the privilege of grocery shopping on an ebt card that don’t even have enough on it to get you through a week, like the working poor don’t already work

super hard.



wage jobs.

i’m not so sure that your cheating husband’s foundation (let’s not get into that super humiliation) has done anything to help haitians…why are there tent cities built by people from left over scraps of an earthquake on unstable


where. has. all. the. money. gone?

into another

super facility. more guns, more police, this time

in someone else’s country. a garment factory. where black and brown women make 20 cents an hour to be

super skilled seamstresses, stitching a future

for walmart, targeting,

the next person’s head.

and how come our lives didn’t matter before a whole bunch of folks pushed you to say it? looking with super disdain at a young black woman asking you…

why her people were being abused by

your policies. and how did a super light skinned

super star

konpa singer

get into office over a

sorbonne educated

black woman with


the people’s choice.

where else is this happening,

africa maybe?

your husband spends a lot of time there, probably with the next chic eating soul food and playing his super crappy saxaphone.

i’ve had enough of your:

politics as usual,


and prisons.

i want:



and peace

over profit.

i have no desire to see you, in office.

(disclaimer: i’ve been thinking of these things, since long before twitter — a poem a day — or knowing about any of those people who use it, maliciously.)

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