The Cotton Fields of Washington

A black man rose to Presidency
or so the narrative goes.
America’s greatest experiment
after its final furious throes.
Barack Obama got the White House
but he didn’t get the keys,
they stood him up to knock him down,
to bring him to his knees.
Shackled to his skin and whipped
by the Massa on the hill.
Go on now, be a good nigger or
we’ll never pass your bill.
He gave them care for the poor and troubled
while klans bereft of hoods
try marching Obamacare to a lynching,
a hanging in the woods.
Their opposition carries undercurrents
of foisted social change.
They may have had to have their black man
but, no way they turned the page.


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