Dead Chums // In my own time

Poem by Laetitia Smith

Dead Chums - In my own time

In my own time

We wear our race like clothes The totality of social relationships amongst organised groups of human beings, have taught us that the colour of our skins are significant.

In my own time

The white man gets the riches The black man is put in shackles.

Just for a moment, allow yourself to dismantle your construction of race.

In my own time

You see… We are our own antagonists. We are the creators of our own evils. We resonate: The bloodcurdling screams of blank noise that we try so hard to still with distractions.

In my own time

A new phone. A new pair of kicks.

Maybe materialism will fill the void.

The moment it dawned on us that water,

food and oxygen will never be enough.

In my own time

We have to put up a front.

So, in our disdain we create god in our own image.

Fooling ourselves into believing that we are in control.