If something is not there in it’s place of which something was thought prior,
definitely there must be something new in it's place.
As it happens in life so does in race,
Day is followed by night,
night followed by day and again by night.
Similarly also in race
Most of the times it’s the old that replaces the new and makes it’s presence felt
Definitely champions aren't born, they are made.

Do you mean the ones who live on the other side?
Clear across the ocean, two miles in from the tide?

The ones that live with little means or the ones that live like we were meant to?
That work, play, stress, fear, and cry, just like we do?

The men who were created from the earth and the women from Adam's rib?
The ones who fall asleep staring at the same galaxies wondering if we're all there is?

Do you mean the ones in straw houses near dirt roads?
That learn how to survive on the land and wear the clothes that they sew?

Others and me,
I'm sorry, pardon me... I'm just slightly confused
Because when I think of them, I think of me
I can't separate the two.

Will you walk this way
Will you leave open the door
Will you be more than just the reasons
that you implore

When you look inside
When will you separate the appriations
When will you part and devide
all the suppositions

"I am this today
  I am that tomorrow
  I am anything as long
  as it doesn't cause me sorrow"

"I am as fickle as the sun
  I am sunshine , sometimes storm
  I am the moon's false reflection
  that falls upon the praise that you adorn"

So who is it that walks through the door
So whose mask will you wear today
So who will fall for your insidious lies
that you so disrespectfully diplay

What a way !

That shy labour laden folk
stares in full force tunes
a dogmatic humour
of blunt double edged time
It's as if the tone of the skin
is an artist mix-up makeup
such an angry ignorant world

Dig the ground to depths
Ping the bells in the nights
Ding the **** in sight

In a world where right is wrong
the wrong that is the ethical truth
a shiny death bed with rotten caskets
masks of superior contextual ego
the masters sedated in the graveyards
the rulers selected in dark tunnels
such an angry ignorant world

Trick the graphs in halves
Move the lines in curves
Construct the earth as carves

Line up these thoughts and crunch
That a man is man, his deed maketh him
His action is his absolute character
the colours we wear makes us act
ruthless like dogs in the dead jungle
spit those words, eat the falsified values
starve to see the plentiful truth
Such an angry ignorant world

Paint the canvas of the time
The fallen sense of the mime  
*Un-cleansed humanity dime

And as she watched the sunrise on her future, her heart fluttered with anticipation for the next great race.

This, this is what love looks like. Rival hoods coming together to fight a common enemy like its world war 2 again. We've finally stopped the violence against each other but now we have to fight the system before the system, systematically destroy us. I never knew how similar our times were until now. Its like history is in repeat but just in a different time zone. All Lives matters hashtags looks like hiding the modern day Holocaust code name police brutality.  We the black race are the Jews, the government is Adolf ******, and the police are the ****'s. We need outside interference cause we, the black race is screaming stop the violence but the police don't here us over the routine bullet showers. This final solution is cleaning, cleaning our faces out of this country. It's crazy how it seems that this country is Indian giving to me. They needed us to brighten the future, work their tanks, and harvest their crops now trying to get rid of us so they can lavish in our ancestors hard work. Every one whose a minority needs to be on edge cause one by one their pushing our kind off the ledge and yes maybe that wasn't your family member dead last week but what are you going to do when it is. I've seen too many mistakes being made and honestly I wanna know what is your families reaction when your hearts eyes are mistaken for targets. When your open palms and Twitter fingers are mistaken for trigger fingers. When you obey all of the officer's commands like a good boy and he has a movie flashback and decides to replay the ending to Lacey. Don't answer now let your family do it for you on your local news . Back in 2014 your case would of meant something but now you're just another name on a poster that steadfast people will look at and make post about, then move on about their day. Successful marches where no one dies, candlelight vigil's with the entire community presence, and cops reporting other crooked cops, that is what love looks like. And now more than ever, we need to love again.

What does it mean to be free?

I look down to my hands and my feet and what do I see?

Not shackles, not chains, not confederate flags,

not the fields and not the pains

Of my ancestor who were slain

Who worked in the sun and in the rain

What does it mean to be free?

Does it mean to go to college and get a degree?

Does it mean to live with your head held high and your eyes wide shut?

To live with that uneasiness way down in your gut

To keep your mouth shut and your head off the platter

To many, it seems they’d rather do the latter

What does it mean to be free?

Momma never told me, that’s something that in her lifetime she probably never got to see

Something in her lifetime she never got to be

You can take the shackles off a person and they still won’t be free

Because you destroyed their minds years ago to an insurmountable degree

You, you wretched system

You took my culture, took my last name

You try to steal all my remakes but that’s all in vain

You hate me, and you wish I’d fall

You wish I never find freedom but I got the wake up call

You keep chasing me, like my name’s David, and yours is Saul

Because for decades that wretched system put the necks of my people up against a wall

But I got my hands up, I’m ready for a brawl

Yeah I’m ready to do it all

I’m ready to throw you like a football

But best believe I’m coming for you last like an 8 ball

Because you see, for far too long I’ve been trying to be free

And all along you keep promising me

All the freedom I could want at just a small fee

The fee Martin Luther King jr, he paid in blood

The fee that Malcom X paid in blood

The fee that Emmit Til paid in blood

The fee that Trayvon Martin paid in blood

And now here we are, trying to get what’s been promised

And what will it take us, more blood?