Stolen by Brandon Lacy Campos

For anyone who has ever struggled...never forget

I stole this poem from the voiceless
From the forgotten, struggling, and homeless
I stole this poem from every life
Cut short by violence and domestic strife

I stole this poem from the innocence of Leonard Peltier and Mumia Abu Jamal
From every political prisoner whose name I can't recall
And anyone who ever died from AIDS
Or wrists bled dry by razor blades
I stole this poem from every single refugee
Whose land was destroyed by this democracy
From invasions of Panama, Haiti and Grenada
And the Cuban exile of the revolutionary Assata
I stole it from Brandon Teena and James Byrd
From every hate crime about which we've never heard
From immigrant workers and Operation Bootstrap
Every black called nigger or Mexican called wetback
From the gas chambers of Auschwitz
And cadaver-filled Iraqi death pits

I stole this poem from the ashes of bombed black churches

I stole this poem from every crack purchase
I stole this poem from four dead girls in Birmingham
I stole this poem from every enslaved African,

Yes, yes, I stole this poem from the tattered dreams of MLK
And from the illegal detainees at Guantanamo Bay
From every child that grew up gay
And decided it was better to runaway
Than face a father's fist or mother's hate
Or to escape Matthew Shephard's fate

I stole this poem from villages bulldozed by Israel
And from every Palestinian ever killed
By the colonial ambitions and Zionist aspirations

Of that unlawful, racist, illegitimate nation

I stole this poem from Fred Hampton as he lay in bed

While bullets entered his sleeping head
From Sojourner Truth and Harriet Tubman
From every little girl who never had the chance to be a woman
I stole this poem from every lost fight for liberation
From the sabotaged movement for Puerto Rico as a free nation
And the blood that runs from the red, white, and blue
From every CIA sponsored anti-"Marxist" coup

I stole this poem from strange fruit hanging in trees

I stole this poem from experiments at Tuskegee
I stole this poem from thousands of interned Japanese
I stole this poem from millions of dead Vietnamese

I stole this poem from Jones Town and Cape Town

From Nat Turner and John Brown

The continued fight of Aung Sang Suu Kyi
For the realization of Burmese liberty
Dear God, I stole this poem from the working poor
From every brown sister called bitch, cunt, or whore
By brown men who should love them but instead lash out in fear
At a world that would rather that we not be here
I stole this poem from the crushed body of Rachel Corrie
Her death another chapter in Sharon's story
Beginning with genocide and homicide
And Moses' law by which he can't seem to abide
The clear commandment that "thou shall not kill"
And he continues to murder still

I stole this poem and wrote it as prophecy

That what has been will cease to be
The time has come for us to be free
And tear down the constructions of our enemies
To reclaim our histories, take back our lands
To arrive at victory anyway that we can
Either by Martin's or Malcolm's plan
I stole this poem, and I'm giving it back
To ready my people for the final attack
Against a corrupt system that must fall
If we're ever to have liberty and justice for all.

copyright Brandon Lacy Campos
stolen from: http://www.calacapress.com/redcalacarts/redcalacarts-uwbbrandon.html