I be what I be. Look at me. I am the answer to racial amalgamation.
I am what I am which is not you. I am the identity in politics, not the vote. I am so happy to be me that I can’t understand the grasping paw of jealousy.
When you throw a rock at my head it reminds me of getting knocked out in my first professional prizefight in Denver.
I don’t need to think because I am. I am more than the distance between thoughts as I am the solidity of being.
I am a poem. I am a song. I am a projection of my thoughts onto a tree where the leaves are blown down in the wind.
I am not a black even though I box, rap and hang out with the blacks in that crowd. It’s funny to watch Michael Moore and Chuck Schumer hang out with the black conceptual crowd. As if cool blacks would want to hang out with white nerds. As if Moore hires black workers. As if Trump hasn’t increased black jobs.
Race doesn’t matter to me. The liberals raise it on their self-indulgent flag and make it more important than their approximation to humanity.
Racism is the importance divisiveness places on the color of your skin rather than the content of your character.