Here’s a funny one left today at David Cole’s column at Taki’s Mag:
Speaking of poetry and blacks, turns out Ryan Carson, the leftist BLM-loving white New Yorker randomly butchered by a black man on a Bed-Stuy street, was quite the lover of verse. As his Hispanic girlfriend rakes in $73,700 (so far) for herself on GoFundMe (nothing going to Ryan’s family; the money’s to “assist her mourning”), Carson’s friends have been lauding the late laureate for his amazing poetry.
Unmentioned is Ryan’s final work, scribbled in blood as he lay dying:
I think that I shall never see,
Another day; a black’s stabbing me!
Is his name Denzel or Mr. Tibbs?
Matters not; his knife went through my ribs.
My white privilege ends here on this street,
I depart this realm, my maker to meet.
I wanted to be the wokest of heroes,
Now my BP reading is quadruple zeros.
Perhaps my life was built on lies,
As I’ve learned, every white do-gooder dies.
I wish I’d been situationally aware,
In my memory, please donate to VDARE.
CONNECT/HOOK 
Here’s a funny one left today at David Cole’s column at Taki’s Mag:
Speaking of poetry and blacks, turns out Ryan Carson, the leftist BLM-loving white New Yorker randomly butchered by a black man on a Bed-Stuy street, was quite the lover of verse. As his Hispanic girlfriend rakes in $73,700 (so far) for herself on GoFundMe (nothing going to Ryan’s family; the money’s to “assist her mourning”), Carson’s friends have been lauding the late laureate for his amazing poetry.
Unmentioned is Ryan’s final work, scribbled in blood as he lay dying:
I think that I shall never see,
Another day; a black’s stabbing me!
Is his name Denzel or Mr. Tibbs?
Matters not; his knife went through my ribs.
My white privilege ends here on this street,
I depart this realm, my maker to meet.
I wanted to be the wokest of heroes,
Now my BP reading is quadruple zeros.
Perhaps my life was built on lies,
As I’ve learned, every white do-gooder dies.
I wish I’d been situationally aware,
In my memory, please donate to VDARE.
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I finally heard about this from Red Ice.
(Sorry, I am slow on the uptake.)
Lovely poetry by Ryan. So moving.
So woke. And now so not alive…
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