by BAR poet-in-residence Raymond Nat Turner
Since that November
Night in ’08, Negroz
Ain’t been straight…
On the Night Negroz lost their minds…
by BAR poet-in-residence Raymond Nat Turner
Perhaps it’s the crack
I smoked, the lines
I snorted, the ludes
I dropped, the shit
I shot, the rot gut
I gulped on the A
Train hurtling uptown
That’s agitating me—
Perhaps I’m dating
Myself—lubricant in
Right hand—fantasizing
About yesteryears
African- Americans walked
Vertical like asymmetrical
Street soldiers, sacred
In tens of thousands,
Instead of slithering on red,
White and blue bellies,
Like silly putty-headed
Bamboozled babies—
Their un-fused Fontanel lobes
Parker Bros. playthings…
I recall with horror
That November night
Negroz lost their minds
As if they’d had a huge
Hit of Goebbels shit!
Eyes wide, brains fried
Frostbitten feet, freeze-
Dried tears, hallucinating…
Since that November
Night in ’08, Negroz
Ain’t been straight…
Somethin’ spellbinding about
Smoke & mirror Mc Daddy
Hawkin’ worthless “Yes,
We can” buttons and
T-shirts, counterfeit change
In trillion dollar deals
For carriers, cluster
Bombs, Hellfire Missiles,
As world champion
Purveyor of violence
Something bewitching ‘bout
Bankster bailouts and
Being in back pockets
Of Fortune 500
Pharmaceutical and
Insurance companies—
Somethin’ intoxicating
About clean coal ties,
Pipeline binding, ALEC,
The brothers Koch and
Trade agreements off-
Shoring jobs Negroz need!
I’m mad at Negroz,
Yet LOVE Negroz MADLY
I pray they grow up
& come down with some
Adult politics…
This lawyers’ story inspires us to march forward against the forces of repression, oppression, and white supremacy.”
Corporate media snake-oil salesmen/women are doing their best to convince the masses that socialism is the devil itself.
Five centuries ago, Europeans set about subjugating the non-“white” peoples of the world, and they are still at it.
The confusion goes all the way back to the Trans-Atlantic slave trade. “Most American supermarkets are selling you sweet potatoes, not yams.”
If the Left Doesn’t Critique Endless War, Who Will?
