by Raymond Nat Turner
My leaders were chased
To China, Tanzania, Cuba and
France by lynch mobs and
Death squads posing as public servants—
I LOST
Leaders I lost— SORRY I LOST…
by Raymond Nat Turner
I.
Even in August’s sauna,
Leaders of the Cristal,
Judas Quisling class
Have it made in the shade!
When the Unca Jims,
Jealousies, Andy Tongues,
Slutty Professors, and
Other muleheads who
Savor the flavor
Of leather, gather
At the feet of the
Great Emancipator,
Huffin’ and puffin’
‘Bout recent wrongs—
Same ol’ songs— sanitizing
The ‘60s, hiding worn
Harnesses to the mule;
Thank gawd almighty they’ve
Overcome tall principles,
Steep integrity and
Truth-telling decades ago—
Dumping on Dr King
For Burger King, Ronald Mc Donald,
Colonel Sanders, Popeye’s, liquor
Franchises and sub-contracts,
Rapprochement with Reaganite reaction paid
II.
My leaders were voted
Out of office in penitentiary
Yards, Lorraine balcony, Audubon
Ballroom, bedroom-voting booths—
I LOST— SORRY I LOST…
My leaders were chased
To China, Tanzania, Cuba and
France by lynch mobs and
Death squads posing as public servants—
I LOST— SORRY I LOST…
My leaders had hearts
Of Harriet, Toussaint and Nat;
Spines of Sitting Bull, Dessalines and
Osceola; tongues of Truth, Douglass and
Harrison; pens of Wells, Walker and
Garrison, strip searches, x-rays and
Metal detectors don’t detect—
I LOST— SORRY I LOST…
My leaders sprouted up
From Strange Fruit-fertilized
Black soil saturated by fire
Hoses and spittle of Strom, Bull,
Lester, Hoover bloodhounds and
Other Amerikkkan apartheid actors—
I LOST— SORRY I LOST…
My leaders first served, and
Later, hanging judges, not chads
Confirmed them in “superior” courts
Inaugurating them with more boots
Batons, bullets, mud-slinging and
Negative campaigning, COINTELPRO-style—
I LOST— SORRY I LOST…
My leaders were elected
To 4x9, windowless offices
Open twenty-four, seven,
Three hundred -sixty-five
Days a year, 3, 4 even 5 decades—
I LOST— SORRY I LOST…
My leaders have #s
Like 09-A3775 and 77A4283
I can’t call when I wake up
In a cold sweat, screaming—
I LOST— SORRY I LOST…
My leaders make less
Than a dollar a day
And ain’t Rollex-models
Rollin’ somethin’ shiny and German
With ALEC’s hand up
Their asses, making their
Mouths move every 2-4 years
With promises, promises, promises,
Promises only fools and babies believe—
I LOST— SORRY I LOST…
I LOST— SORRY I LOST…
Raymond Nat Turner can be contacted at upsurgejazz.com.
Raymond Nat Turner © 2013 All Rights Reserved
Bell levels a class critique against the Black bourgeoisie, whom he sees as having led Black political protest down the wrong path time and time again.
French bullying of Africa has been driven entirely by self-interest and greed.
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