From: "cwright" <cwright-AT-21stcentury.net>
Subject: AUT: Now I like this poem a lot was aut:Baraka Poem
Date: Fri, 11 Oct 2002 19:36:14 -0500


This is from one of the 9th graders (14 years old), at my partner's school.
Its better than Baraka, fer sure.  Its also an interesting way to see race
as class in this young man's vision.  I really like it.

Cheers,
Chris

Domestic Warfare

I am at war in my own county.
Not for gold or moneys,
But for liberation and liberty.
But for now
I am captured and tamed.
My spirit my spunk my spark all drained.
I am a P.O.W a prisoner of war
And I can not retreat.
For I do not know where it is I am from.
I am neither African nor American,
I am stolen,
And lost.
In these politic of the time,
Or as I call them politic of the mind.
I am also trapped.
Trapped in this holy hell of a county,
Not by borders or bounders,
Only by finance.
You see I have no rich family with big screen TV's and luxurious penthouse
sweets
My family is p.o.w's just like me.
Held for possessing color.
I have never been freed from my chains, masters and whips.
They have only been disguised as dope, gangs and imprisonment.
Well this is my war and this is my hell,
Mom said I could be anything,
Uncle Sam said I'd fail.
So who am I to credit who am I to believe.
My mother who loves me
Or my Uncle Sam who stills owns me.
This is my horror this is my war.
Why should I fight terrorism for my country,
When my country terrorizes me still more.






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