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Poem Commissioned for the 2nd Annual Anti-Racism Day at the New Mexico State Legislature.

The Pits - by hakim bellamy

The unique thing about lies is
They only go backwards in time
A fabrication about the past
Can be corroborated
But when you make up
Your future
They call it a dream

So would I be lying
If I told you
The Constitution
Was cut from
The same cherry tree
George Washington forgot
To lie about?

Or would I be sleeping,
And only call the Constitution
A liar
If I were awake?

But we’re going to
Talk about
Dreams today

We’re going to pretend
That the day you lose
Your faith in people
Doesn’t feel like a broken heart

A bad day
Waiting to happen
So inevitable
I’ve marked it on my calendar
Already made time
To nurse my son’s soul
And eat gallons of salt

His first day of school
The first time someone calls him a…

We’re going to dream
That martyrs
Don’t die for nothing
That people don’t go
To jail
For the crime
Of their skin
That the sound
Of a prison door
And a heart
Unlocking
Sound the same

We’re going to visualize
The luxury sedan
Apple Pie man
Three-piece suit
On the outside of the vehicle
License and registration in hand

Being asked
“How did you make your money?”
“Who did you hurt to get this?”
K-9 sniffing his car
For privilege

We’re going to
Picture profiling different
Picture profiling non-existent

We’re going to imagine
A blood money economy
Not founded on the backs
Of cotton-pickin’
Native, African, Mexican
Hyphen
Any American

We’re going to imagine
We’re gonna John Lennon

We are going to invent
Words that don’t exist
Like “Race”
And erase racism
Until we don’t have to be
“Anti” anything

We want words like
Love-ism
In it’s place

Because I’ve never seen
People love each other apart
They’re usually
Loving each other back
Together again

We’re going to fantasize
The color of my son’s skin

Pretend it was a nightmare
That states had laws
On the books
That made it illegal
For two people
To make a miracle
The complexion of Jesus

As brown-olive as Muhammad

We used to think down
But now?
We’re gonna think up
A world that would never
Dream up legislation
That would stop us
From making love

Though we live in one that still does

We gonna masquerade
In our great-grandmother’s star-spangled gown
Dress up as the country
We said we’d be
Instead of what we were
Because a country that lives in black and white
Will never be able to dream in color

We’re gonna fake it
Like the Cherry tree
That birthed
The parchment
That bore the Declaration of Independence
That born our country

We’re gonna pretend
That THAT tree
Did not bear strange fruit too
Like the Bill of Rights
Does not have blood
On
    It’s
        Roots


We’re going to pretend
Our founding fathers would be crying
At the revelation
That what they wrote in 1776
Was fiction
Not fact

That the Constitution
Is being used
As a short story
And not a contract

We’re going to dream today
That all men are created equal
And we’re gonna pretend
That we hold these truths

To be self-evident.

Copyright Hakim Bellamy January 25th, 2012

Delivered at the New Mexico State Legislature Roundhouse Rotunda, Commissioned for Anti-Racism Day

“Ruidosa: A Videom” was a poem that was requested and originally composed by Hakim Bellamy for DRIFT 2011.

“The River is the Road: Ruidosa Art Happening” is hosting a DRIFT Video Night on September 17, 2011 in Ruidosa, Texas. There will be a selection of video shorts by artists from the East Coast and Southwest as well as live performances by New York artists Irvin Morazan and Geoffrey Hendricks (“Headstand for Eileen—a meditation”). Sacred Heart Mission Church in Ruidosa,
7:00-8:30pm. Funding for this year’s DRIFT is provided by the Idea Fund.

DRIFT is an annual group exhibition that moves to a new location every year. The exhibition characterizes the impermanence and site-specificity of the artworks as well as the adaptive qualities of the participating artists. DRIFT highlights under represented talented artists while emphasizing the critical role of experimentation and process within conventional and unconventional exhibition spaces.