by BAR Poet-in-Residence Raymond Nat Turner
I’d rather see hit men from the Five Families
Lecturing gang-bangers on gun violence,
Than see the U.S. prancing ‘round the world
Like a peacock, pontificating ‘bout democracy!
Mummies
by BAR Poet-in-Residence Raymond Nat Turner
“For my own part I would as soon be descended from that
Heroic little monkey, who braved his dreaded enemy” - Charles Robert Darwin 1809-1882
I’d rather see a pack of pedophile priests
Supervising Boys Club during a blackout…
I’d rather see klansmen teaching Post Traumatic
Slave Syndrome at Historically Black Colleges …
I’d rather see R. Kelly chaperoning a dozen
Brownies traveling cross-country selling cookies…
I’d rather see Karl Rove teaching working-
Class ethics at Malcolm X Middle School…
I’d rather see Rush Limbaugh as Principal of
The New Montessori School down the street…
I’d rather see BP baking gluten-free bread for
Celiac sufferers and Monsanto making baby food…
I’d rather see Arthur Anderson Accounting and
Al Sharpton administering Social Security…
I’d rather see hit men from the Five Families
Lecturing gang-bangers on gun violence,
Than see the U.S. prancing ‘round the world
Like a peacock, pontificating ‘bout democracy!
How dare murderers of Mohawk, Huron,
Shawnee, Shinnecock, Seminole, Apache,
Comanche, Navaho, Shoshoni, Chicasaw,
Choctaw; murderers, enslavers of Mandenka,
Asante, Fante, Fulani, Woloof, Fon, Susu,
Senufo, Housa, Kuranko, Tukulo, Mende—
Thieves of a third of Mexico, preach democracy?
How dare those with political prisoners dying
In their dungeons, those whose sun never sets
Without Black and Brown dying at the hands of
Their centurions circle the globe crying freedom?
How dare jackbooted crushers of Occupy,
Feeders of mummy movements, roam the
Four corners demanding space, and openings
Shelf life of white supremacy’s measured in
Millenniums, racism has no expiration date under
Capitalism—but didn’t the masses millions teach
You and your milk-face ghosts that 16th century
Notions are null and void? Didn’t the dark ones
You call monkeys teach you and your alabaster
Mummies 10 times that they’re politically dead?
Dead as The Fuhrer, Nathan Bedford Forrest, Bull
Connor, dead as the Great Communicator and his
Bastard freedom fighter children in their hot place!
Guess10 elections are meaningless to the dead?
To ghost-face killers, mummies disguised as democratic
Protestors, blowing up electric grids, assassinating
Elected officials, setting fire to forests, burning down
Schools, supermarkets and medical clinics—wrestling
Clock hands counterclockwise, back to Standard Oil time,
Charred buildings and smoldering ashes their calling cards
Guess pale-face assassins and cutthroats won’t cease
Kristallnacht, Caracas-style, and slither back into cold
Mummy cases, commit Hara-kiri drink Kool-Aid, hang
Their selves, self-immolate, or even let the working-class
Unceremoniously cremate their carcasses properly; they
Will not make their last curtain calls, last roundups in
Capital’s class struggle, voluntarily, they will not pay the
Debt, which cancels all others without tsunamis of lead,
Torrents of blood, stacks of bodies, they won’t do the right thing,
Voluntarily stepping off the stage of history, moving over—
So you can get back to Monkey Business
Siphoning oil monies to people’s power: communes, collectives
Cooperatives and councils for land reform, literacy, health care, culture…
Raymond Nat Turner can be contacted at upsurgejazz.com.
Raymond Nat Turner © 2014 All Rights Reserved
Africans have flooded into the streets of Britain, Germany, Brazil, France and many other countries, not only in solidarity, but also as part of their own resistance.
We are murdered, but there is no recourse because there is no crime. No death occurred because we are not human.
Mayor Lance Bottoms brought in troops to occupy her city while claiming that protesters dishonored the memory of MLK.
It is impossible to speak seriously about Marxism in the West without incorporating the role of Christianity in each social formation.
The “Carceral State” is the Enemy
