Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Extraterrestrial

Sculpture by Woodrow Nash




















This is nothing common this is extraterrestrial,
It's common sense that the spirit I channel is ancestral.
Descendant of a people that conquered theirs masters,
Rebellion in my blood so I can make a dynasty from disaster,
An ineligible bachelor, a conscious brother bout to get a masters'.
A jack of many trades and a master of some,
Almost lost my way as a youth till I chased after the One.
Chillin’ in the cut my shades lookin’ like I took the blue pill,
Young Morpheus man in black mourning for the ones those in blue kill.
That's why people crying black lives matter,
400 year from poplar trees, whips, chains, and bullets made black lives shatter,
The Jews got Moses when they got to four centuries,
After Tubman, Shabazz, Mandela, Castro, King who is the one meant to be?
While we slaving for pyramids printed on the backs of dollars,
Trump grabbed lady liberty by her you know and I heard her holler.
What happens to the people when they fed up and tired,
Instead of punk ass elitist politicians they hired the celebrity famed saying "you’re fired."
As much as I want to laugh the jokes on me,
Broken systems, broken families, but I still cling to the word "hopefully."

A brother hustling with the cosign of Yahweh,
Take that and run to the bank, Barclays.
The only safety net I ever needed was the Highest,
Granted the gift to write to call out the pompous and pious.
Living in an age of Trump cards, police bullets and rising waters,
I know we won't need another arc so I'm trying to get a closer walk with the Father.
Distracted by screens, lust, and the seduction of personal gain,
But it's gonna take the power of the people to readjust the frame.
So I'm building with my black queen, family and chosen circle,
Learning to be leaders and protect the matters of the family and community from Urkels.
Cause when those with power try to change the game,
Get ready because it's probably in the name of profits and chemical rain.
We need more water protectors, guerrilla farmers and rebels,
Turn up the teaching and learning and turn down the bass and the treble.
It's like we so scared to face reality so we're buried in distractions,
Social media, drugs, and other social contraptions.

But it was written, man wasn't the beginning and they won't be the end.

When the bees go extinct we won't be able to bring flowers to the funeral procession,
When the crops cease to produce we won't be able to continue the progression.
But those thoughts are too dark talk about how Chris Brown gonna box Soulja Boy.
While overseas we got drones bombing weddings, civil wars, and rebel soldier boys.
When you face the music will you be able to stand it?
The times are real get ready for a shift in the planet.

-E.R.



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