I’m Everything You Know Not
No, I’m not the Summertime-easy-living, sloth-slow,
     yardbird-yapping, lawn-jockey-like idler outside your door.
No, I’m not the ski-mask-wearing, Cain-psychotic,
     hatred-hankering, violence-devoted brute attacking you.
No, I’m not the bonobo Daddy-O with my pants down to my knees,
     leaving the world with a million misbegotten babies.
No, I’m not the b-ball-hogging, all-day-dribbling, hoop-headed
     Monarch of Color holding court on a basketball court.
No, I’m not the metronome-accurate dancer of your
     hip-hop-rhythmic music video scenario.
No, I’m not the pop star with the clay-recreated features
     singing and dancing for your green money approval.
No, I’m not the next Kanye parading in blond hair
     for a photo op with a fascist tyrant wearing a Republican-red tie.
No, I’m not another Jay-Z saying the same insulting N-word
     that our black ancestors heard while their humanity got murdered.No, only death will stop my demand that all states allocate
     a reparative bandage for the sinful Middle Passage.
No, nothing will stop the stance of this Black man
     and the two-fisted persistence of my resistance
     to external and internal racism.  


A Song for Sheroes
Women, make men comprehend,
Women, make men comprehend,
Make men comprehend
That each sister
Has a Harriet Tubman
Prepared to seek
A place where men
Do not abuse their Queens,
A place that erects Jewels of Respect.
Women, make men comprehend,
Women, make men comprehend,
Make men comprehend
That each sister
Has a Shirley Chisholm
Prepared to shake and make every state
Understand that liberation
Must not become a membership card
Only given to men.
Women, make men comprehend,
Women, make men comprehend,
Make men comprehend
That each sister
Has a Kamala Harris
Showing all chauvinists
And misogynists
They are as unwanted as a virus.
Women, make men comprehend,
Women, make men comprehend,
Make men comprehend
That each sister Has a Dr. Mae C. Jemison
Entering a NASA shuttlecraft
That ascends to a time
Where gender mistreatment ends.
Women, make men comprehend,
Women, make men comprehend,
Women, make men comprehend.

America’s Unconstitutional Grill
Near the counter,
    One seat away from a guy named Uncle Sam,
    I sat in America’s Unconstitutional Grill,
    Notorious for its discrimination special.
    Recollections took my psyche traveling
    Throughout gripped and whipped generations.
    I remembered Sam’s culture-ramming family
    Capturing my kin
    And reducing them to abused horses
    In a round pen.
My temper went from a semiautomatic pistol
    To a ballistic missile.
    Around then,
    My anger could have leveled
    America’s Unconstitutional Grill.
Right before my left was going to punch Sam
     So his teeth would meet a dirt heap
    ‘Neath some table’s feet,
    Non-Caucasian children came in.
    They ordered cheeseburgers.
    A spoiled-cream-distasteful waitress,
    Wearing a hairnet,
    Said, “The Grill did not get
    The School Budget Tomato Sauce yet.”
Judging from the way
    Their liveliness took a graveyard turn,
    Non-Caucasian children did learn
    Unconcern made their meals burn.
According to other non-Caucasian patrons,
     There was not much pepper
     In the House and Senate stew.
     Non-Caucasian patrons spat discontent
     Over the cop-frisked pork biscuits
     Accompanying assorted penal-smelly vittles.
Seconds from leaving America’s Unconstitutional Grill,
     Despite my refusal to select a speck,
     The waitress tossed me a check.
     After I tabulated
     Subjugation's cost,
     I told the ashy cashier,
    “Get the damn owners to atone
     And reimburse for every year 
     My people spent here.”
Bob McNeil, writer, editor, cartoonist, and spoken word artist, is the author of Verses of Realness. Hal Sirowitz, a Queens Poet Laureate, called the book “A fantastic trip through the mind of a poet who doesn’t flinch at the truth.” Among Bob’s recent accomplishments, he found working on Lyrics of Mature Hearts to be a humbling experience because of the anthology’s talented contributors. Copies of that collection are available here:


  1. Bob McNeil never seems to disappoint and always delights. All three of these offerings are at once so moving and beautifully original. Once again, he reaches my mind even as he touches my heart.


  2. We know that when our country doesn’t talk about slavery, and racism and white supremacy we continue to shoot ourselves in the foot. How many more poems like these will it take for this country to have a come to Jesus moment? As the publisher of these poems I’m happy to put these out there. I put a call out for Black Lives Matter writing and got very very very little response–such a small response which made me extremely sad because I learned that most the writers associated with my operations (Grandma Moses Press and Cacti Fur) just don’t write about this stuff…or simply don’t want to give it to us for display. It is part of the mission of my press to put stuff out there in support of the movement and to honor great writers like Bob McNeil. Thank you Bob McNeil for your energy, commitment and ferocious spirit.

    Liked by 1 person

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