"I am a big loser," Whoopi has said,
For, of all things, Slim Fast, for their dollars.
I can't imagine what was in her head,
I think of our grandmas, shackles, collars.
I think of whips, brand irons. What's defeat:
Resisting fire hose, dog, shot gun and rope,
To shelter babies, earn them bread to eat,
To drudge for shelter, try to give them hope?
To sell junk food, they tore the air with screams?
To keep complacent we, who have so much?
To peddle pastas, chocolate, ice creams,
These women suffered, never eating such?
These Queens of Africa flow in our veins;
Don't desecrate their screaming labor pains.
http://rriverstone.com/poetry/queen.html
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