When a Change Goin’ come?

An ode to Sam Cooke

Even though I wasn’t born by a river,

It seems that I’ve been carried by the waves of hate,

Delivered by water I fear no slaughter,

However, I’m tossed to and fro and I feel afraid.

It’s long past the winter and we need a change.

Are we too late Obama to stop all this drama?

All shades of our people exposing their fears,

With fingers on board, I type through my tears.

The Karen’s the Ken’s, the looting and shooting,

To Malcolm and Martin… your dreams have departed.

If the sky is the limit then why are we stealing?

I can’t shake this feeling we need a new healing.

Our tents have been leaking our rooves need repairing,

Their teeth have been gnashing no coin are they sparing,

I’m not gonna beg, barter, cry or complain,

Our hands are extended, but where is the change?

If black lives matter, why aren’t they ashamed?

A lonely outcry in torrential rain.

An ode to Same Cooke, like a song with due fame,

I’m hoping next year to envision his claim.