(a poem)

Huey Newton, sitting in his
bamboo chair
ain’t got nothin’ on my Daddy
his fist in the air
expression saying
Negro pleez
sucka, you ain’t got nothin
on me

and the rifles
count them one, two, three
a hand on each trigger
ready to squeeze

he keeps a sledgehammer
close by
just in case
the cop with the shit eating grin on his face
moves too quick
or blinks too slow
Daddy got it covered

don’t you know I’m just talking
bout a man
who never let The Man
get him down

he ain’t frownin’
that’s just
how his smile looks
crooks
see him comin’
better run