Afters eight years, be less dan eight percent,
distinguish’ friend, of coloured wif de whites
in de School, in de Souf.
-Is coloured gobs, is coloured officers,
Mr Bones. Dat’s nuffin?-Uncle Tom,
sweep shut yo mouf,
is million blocking from de proper job,
de fairest houses & de churches eben.
-You may be right, Friend Bones.
Indeed you is. Defy flyin ober de world,
de pilots, ober ofays. Bit by bit
our immemorial moans
brown down to all dere moans. I flees that, sah.
They brownin up to ourn. Who gonna win?
-I wouldn’t predict.
But I do guess mos peoples gonna lose.
I never saw no pickle wifout no hand.
O my, without no hand.
(John Berryman)
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Based on Topics: World Poems, Friendship Poems, Education PoemsBased on Keywords: ober, nuffin, predict, wif, mouf, eben, percent, souf, ourn, gobs, wifout