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From Inside: My Comrade

Written by Heru. In memory of our comrade, Karen Smith.

To my comrade,

Never encountered anyone as genuinely rad.
My Partisan,
My eguerrillatarian, Guerilla for Egalitarianism
We never met in person,
Never seen face to face, but our eyes,
See and share the same vision
Our souls,
Know and share the very same mates
Our hearts,
Defy the same Plutocrat System,
Our Minds,
Are on the very same proletarian mission.
A genuine believer in rehabilitation,
A modern day John Brown,
Going all in for abolition, liberation.

Inspirer of inspiration,
Motivator of motivation,
The definition of working class dedication
Illuminator of illumination,
The glue in our Solidarity.

Sui generis,
Of wombmen like you?
Of comrades like you?
Of  servants of the people like you?
There is a scarcity.
Ain’t too many like you left in society.

My comrade,
You had that People’s Personality,
Based on nothing but pure authenticity
Your revolutionary acts
Showed sublime dedication to humanism in fact.
As if you and the entire human race had a pact.

You gave your soul to the People.
While many sell theirs to the Plutocrats.
Telling the blood guzzling parasites, “no deal.”
Wouldn’t even sell out to get your seeds a meal.
Your manifestation of humanitarian zeal,

We are on the Plantation,
And you were right out here with us.
In the field.

While many still prejudge and convict us;
You grant us appeal with appeal.
You showed us,
That the power is in us to heal.
With nothing but true equality,
That genuine feminism reveals
Prime example of revolutionary love,

My Comrade kept it wombman real.

I was in good hands,
With Karen Smith behind the wheel.
Men have balls,
My Sister had Ovaries of Steel,
Stood up, against an avaricious, murderous System.
While so-called gangstas and thugs, 
truckle, grovel and kneel.

Wombman.
Wombmen like you make men like me
See that the cause of our savagery,
Is nothing but Patriarch misogyny.

I know for a fact,
That if it was up to you, we’d all be free.

Wombmen like you,
Would give us the fruit from the forbidden tree,
The key to our determining our own destiny,
Pushing us, into being the all, that we are meant to be.

Womben like you,
Are paragons of the U in Unity.

Wombmen like you,
Are personifications of Community.

Wombmen like you,
Are the true ladies of true liberty.
I wish to be surrounded, accompanied
Be in Comradeship of nothing but

Wombmen like you,
In my eternity

Your first letter as a fellow worker,
Brought oxygen to a candle already lit.
That oxygen sparked a fission,
In fusion, no suppression can split.
A vibration that can’t quit won’t quit.

We will win bit by bit, if it comes to it,
Because we got asses that won’t sit.

We did not start the fire.
But Comrade, you added more heat.
A heat that will never cool,
Because you left behind a whole fleet.
In the pen and in the street,
We are carrying your torch
One revolution, one Prole beat.

We are dialectical materialist
And you are, historically inexhaustible.
Indomitable.
Servant of the People.

You did your part in this crucible.

What more can I say,
Of someone so ineffable?

In my eyes, 
You will be forever indispensable,
Infallible.

Based on all of the above and more
Comrade Karen Smith,
Wombmen like you
Are, and will forever by indelible.

We are not done,
Our Pact with the People;
Will forever and ever be on,
From where you’re at,
You’re still here, you will always be.
Shining on us,
Ubiquitous, like the sun.
Trust the Truth,
You will forever be missed.

So picture yourself, never gone.
I know you hear those drums,
And revolutionary horns.
This is what it sounds like,
When Proletarians mourn.

To my comrade…
Rest in power.

Write to Heru:
Keith Soanes #191981
Florida State Prison
P.O. Box 800
Raiford, FL 32083