Barricades of land we call universities.
Devoid of the history of the soil.
The only place where culture exists
is in unrecognizable material,
Cherried on African studies curricula.
White collar, blue collar worker–you toil to be
no! just a thinned, silenced–tame wire in the racket…
You can’t breathe in that lynching collar.
Breathing is like the gulping of sponged vinegar,
your mouth shut, tears streaming
Bearing testament to centuries
of slashing and servitude
Closed into capitalist barricades
You bring no change to the cries of the ordinary
Those who are barred
living inside metal planks,
Dug on sweeping sand
and not their solid land.