by Raymond Nat Turner
Bomb 'em to stone man
Free-fire zone man
Jim Jones man
Villain called Drone Man
Wrong Song In The Key Of Death
(Call The Villain)
by Raymond Nat Turner
Flaming grooves burning lard off
Drumsticks and gyrating boo-tays;
Lush chords working their ways
Through Jazz clubs and churches;
Melodies reeling ribbons in from
The sky---Genius of the giant,
Master Blaster, Sir Duke of our times!
But picking politicians,Stevie's either a
Dupe, dope, dunce or dilettante played
By star-spangled charlatans---corporatists
Cloaked in Populist cotton, like Chippendale
Dancers wearing suicide vests, Senors signed,
Sealed and delivered to celebrity-worshipers by the 1%:
Like a relatively unknown man
A hugely overblown man
A corporate grown man
Political clone man
Like a Skull & Bone man
A Rhine-stone man
Testosterone man
Bellicose tone man
Bomb 'em to stone man
Free-fire zone man
Jim Jones man
Villain called Drone Man
Call the villain Drone Man
Call the villain Drone Man...
Raymond Nat Turner (c) 2012 All Rights Reserved
The Review interrogates the thought of academic and activist Layla Brown-Vincent, who says she was “reared and steeped in Pan-Africanist thought and organization” from birth.
The Democratic Party and its corporate media have already white-washed Biden, and nothing will be demanded of him except that he not be Trump.
White supremacy and class struggle must thus be taken together as parts of a whole social system rather than separate categories of oppression.
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Everybody’s wild ‘bout this ‘new’ dance craze— this lewd, crude dance called “The 1st 100 Daze…” Here come Ol’ Blak Schmo and Ladee Blu— listen up—they’re gonna teach it to you:
