A choice Do what they do Fight the ***** fight Do it to them Take it from them Lie about them Wage war on them Their righteous greed controls They have the moral high ground In the name of their "God", they dream Of keeping us down We must Fear them Patriate them Oppress them Malcolmize their pain Invert their rain Watch it flow back up Up to the clouds Crack on them Break on them Smash them to the ground Return everything to dust Let the sun shine through Move what stands in our way Shed all that cast a silky shadow Your freedom lives Arch back and feel the sun rain down your face Follow the sacred Caucasus Mountain Pass Your right to the human dream Your sacred seasoned skin Tarred brown by party soot Feel the warmth of the Queen, King, and Mother Luna As you fall from grace For what is Right Your mumble in the jungle is heard You cry Tasting the drops Those delicate drops... Of Freedom
Every time you open your mouth And those awful words Assault my ears Remarks about sexuality, origin and gender The endless rambling Endless arguments Endless discussions I won't take them I won't remain silent and I cannot refrain from pointing out That your hate is not an opinion
We fell all the time. It was a matter of balance. Our inner ears and eyes Struggled with gravity; and Being upright is our gravest concern. So, we always stood again, Revolving around equilibriums: Bikes, ledges and feet; Everything was a test. Everything needed balance: Wheelbarrows, roof peaks and checking accounts.
I've learned balance for adults Is even more precarious. Our words are heavily weighted, And some more disproportionately than others, With see-saw issues and teeter-totter opinions.
Isn't it easier to get back on the bike Than walk back unbalanced arguments.
Dark chocolatey skin bears the flag of red Coloured, a sin; these feelings are cultivated and bred So they're brought to toil on white soil Reminiscing the scent of their native land, the sweet patchouli oil. As they trudge through barren land, lost hope and ****** soles mark their path This coloured discrimination instigates fair feelings of wrath A helplessly agitated mind and yet they stand still With wistful eyes, devoid of their free will. At night, they sing to themselves songs of a land far away As they drift off to a restless sleep, dreaming of being back there someday Scalding feelings of entitlement and vengeance have taken birth and clouded minds Working on indigo and cotton fields, on merriment and mirth have been drawn white blinds. No matter how clean the records, the message is loudly heard "When looked upon as a blue jay, you can never be a mockingbird" These words passed down through generations deny them their say Day to night and night to day but time couldn't change the black man's dismay. Wanted is colour in life but shunned is coloured life This clash of colours holds no value, only adding on to people's strife So while i stand here trying to fathom out the meaning of it all I hope, someday, realisation will take down this coloured wall.