Eva Cherokee El Beze
Kiss me hard before the tear gas hits the crowd. Look into my eyes in case you get gunned down dirty as a dog in the gutter. Wrap your arms around me as I whisper how much I love you, the last thing you hear before they rip us apart for insubordinate behavior. Walk along the beach at sunset before the soles of our feet bubble and burst. Take a deep breath. Tomorrow, we can buy a gas mask.
Dive into a deep blue ocean while waves are still liquid. Kill a cop before one kills you, leaving your legacy loudly lest they erase the evidence. Rewrite the story. Burn the names recorded of innocent victims fallen too soon. Tear down a wall as you are dragged from your home.
You are guilty until proven innocent. You are innocent unless black, brown, red, or yellow, so burn this mother fucker down, all the way down, look at your plate, is it filled with murder or pacification? Decide where peace begins: with them or me? Decide the only change coming will be one we create, to bulldoze rigged voting booths where they sit up high laughing at our innocent assumption of democracy.
Eva Cherokee El Beze grew up in San Francisco, CA in an anarchist theatre collective. Eva has been published in multiple magazines, journals and books as well as won awards for stage and film scripts. She divides her time between India, Europe, Africa and California.