Those slaves made some good cookin’.

They tidied up your house,

So you wouldn’t have to lay a finger.

You didn’t have to pay them,

You owned them.

They hoed in the garden.

They… were far more comfortable than

Showers, electricity, television,

iPhones, and internet.


You could sit all day,

Drink mint juleps,

Sip on lemonade,

Eat their homemade cooking,

Listen to their music;—

Like a radio—

Beat them and rape them if you wanted to.

You could have instant access to the best

Live action pornography available at the time.

One of those black women looked nice

Almost pretty enough,

You’d have a concubine

Whose bastard son would

Be just like the shovel in the tool shed.


You could befriend them,

Real nice…

Murder them, and you’d get away with it.


I say, they were a comfort we don’t even know is humanly possible.


So… now you know why there was a war fought

To let them go.


If this offends anyone,

It should.

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