Anyone that would still vote for Trump should be thrown in an unmarked van, put in a small cage, infected with an airborne disease, have their rights stripped of them, have their safety and freedom repeatedly threatened, be called a rapist and a thief, while simultaneously being sexually assaulted and made fun of, be separated from their family for months, be put in an overcrowded classroom, shot with a semi automatic weapon, be put in a church, shot with a semi automatic weapon, be put at a concert, shot with a semi automatic weapon, be put in a Walmart, shot with a semi automatic weapon... Then have their lifeless body propped up for a photo with a can of Goya beans. Then, maybe, just maybe they'll get a sense of this man's real values, or at least the ones he'll continue to instate in this country. It is time for radical change. Fists up. Sitting naked in the streets. Singing to Marsha P. Walking back over the bridges built by John Lewis. Because BLACK. LIVES. MATTER. Until they do, we have no movement as a whole people in this country. #metoo changed the world. Trans rights are our human rights. DACA is not only for the dreamers but all of our ancestors, who dreamt of a better life in the land of opportunity. We are all sons and daughters of an immigrant. The only people whose land this is are the people who are indigenous to this land. Then the people, whose people were stolen and forced to build the structures and cultures we stand on with such privilege and glory today. I cannot sing a song that doesn't belong to you. So may I write in your honor, sing to your service and march down the middle of main street USA shouting "Dismantle White Supremacy!!!" "Defund the police!" "No justice. No peace." "Arrest the cops who killed Breonna Taylor!"
For the longest time, we called you the moon Because from where we could see You looked abandoned And blue Like nighttime We thought we understood how you felt Another room In a home That was a notch on our belt So we burned up the oceans And drowned out our skies Until even the islands began to Become dry And suddenly soon We'll stand crying over valleys abandoned and blue With a far, new born, planet Calling us moon.
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