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A Tale Of Two Toms (Or Tom-Tom)


The Daily play unfolds
Time mellows
Them in their roles
As salesmen of Black Souls.


Black, brown, and tan masks
Hide white minds and yellow hearts;
Slime sits in plus chairs
At City Halls;
Dregs float to the surface of coffee;
Piss replaces drinking water.


They hastily count unhatched votes,
Making whores
Of hot ghettos.
Little embryos of ideas,
Mere beginnings of dreams,
Suffocate in the grip of greenbacks
While Uncle Toms perform abortions
On a ghetto pregnant with Blackness.


Toms are sales representatives
For Colonialism, Incorporated,
The largest producer in America-
Manufacturer of the Negro
And the computerized darky.


On the plantation
They wore halos of hog-grease
(In sun their heads were on fire),
Over-alls,
And carried sticks
For UPPITY niggers.
The new weapon is lips,
Sneakier than the waters of the Mississippi,
Doors of an obscene tongue
Shouting BROTHERS & SISTERS
While delivering them up
To the ESTABLISHMENT for
30 pieces of anything white.

Written by Eugene B. Redmond

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