Battling Racism
I have wanted to tell my story of Sgt. Vigay.
When we first met, him claiming cool,
and get's Hell out's -is way.
I never felt such hatred, prejudice, like that first day.
That was my first moments, But I swore, I'd make him pay.
It started, claiming he'd whip's my body,
Like's moppen's the hall.
He'd whip's this I'd'ho white boy, in Bassit Ball
There he stood, six three or four, big and frighting.
But I mouthed, moe foe, have you ever seen?
I'd'ho white greased lighting?
The hurts and the banging, I knew what I'd get.
All the money I had, but what the Heck?
I placed life, death, on that six dollor bet.
Battling racisim, I bet they're still wondering even yet?
The brothers all cheered, for their man six feet four.
The fight was finally over 21,24,
It ended there? I had thought on that dirt room floor.
But it turned out mine was the higher score!
The fighting then started, those brother's, never let it end.
They encouraged their Chicago Projects, Brother, Friend.
No matter what ever I would do, No matter how hard, or Hurt
I tried?
They claimed, Vigay, with -is one hand tie-.
I ask him, thirty forty times, couldn't he let
this game end.
But did you ever notice? Brothers and Racisim seldom,
never, bend?
That was the way it was, trash talking, racisim
without end.
So I had to fight in the name of sports.
Baseball, swimming, fighting on the run.
Vigay and his brothers, To pick on their boy was fun.
Never had so many places that hurt!
But at every turn I won.
Then the day, that showed how much? They, I had started to hate.
That day, I sealed my one fate.
I made a knowing fatal mistake.
I knew in their hearts hate, and one more contest?
My mouth and heart said retard wha- the -ell was chest?
I had taken their racsim,
I'd whip their ass in chest.
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poem by Clyde Bryson
Added by Poetry Lover
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