Woke on the Fourth of July (poem)

Woke is such a loaded term; it just might explode

like a weasel in the sun, coat of sweety sauce;

all ready to be good, or to cancel your ass,

send you back to the bracksplash of the mother toad.

Woke means you burned your Elvis; you're all Malcolm's now;

Rodney clubbed ("Can't we all-- ) Shut up Rodney, it's time!

to light a cracker; no more knee-in-the-neck crime;

Billy Cobham's drums, time for some zing! splat! biff! pow!

.

When I was a white kid I dreamed of being Black,

or being Abbie laughing at The Man. Conscious!

Aware, in on, hip, taking no sh*t, dropping Cid,

but now we on the verge of duckrabbit quackquack.

.

Fourth of July, so soon after Juneteenth, sucks:

Chains off, phew!; then Sousa's Mighty Whitey Redux.