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Life As A Boy

Poems by Breeze Vincinz

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UNSUNG PSALM

© Breeze Vincinz

  

 

There is a song that needs to be sung

But I don’t know the words

About your legacy

And your disregard

About how you are not

What you choose to be

Only what you have been taught

to believe

 

About

Barbaric masculinity

Submissive femininity

Blissful stupidity

and those useless commodities

hanging from your

neck, ears and fingers

that do nothing

for your legacy

that you disregard

as history

but is really

you fate

calling

 

It is a rebel song

Because rebel means to repel

the joys of assimilation

Because angels can’t fail

with the right ammunition

Because there is a safety in numbers

So it’s no wonder

Why so many have made

Meals from the scraps

They gave us

Despite the fact

We can sit at the table now

We own the table now

 

Niggas with attitude

You’ve made yourself niggas without latitude

You’ve taken the scraps they gave you

And made yourself a meal that never fills you

You’ve shellacked the shit they left behind

And curse the ones who don’t follow you

There was a history the existed before they grabbed you

And there were gods who came down to rest with you

And you were smelting iron before the Romans even knew what to do

And you had a God and he had a mother and you praised her too

You looked up in the sky and knew why the ocean was blue

You knew where the trees were solid, you knew where the wind blew

Africa didn’t call you a nigger, that’s what the Europeans gave to you

Nigger is the illusionary beast that funded the Americas and their tool

 

to help you forget

but never forget

 

They put chains on your ankles and raped Nigger into you

The ancestors ate chitins from the scraps of the pig that were left

But that was because that is what they had to do

They shed a grand canyon of blood to make sure you didn’t have to

 

You don’t have to take the scraps

left behind

to find

your pride

 

You don’t have to take the scraps

left behind

to find

your pride

 

We can sit at the table now

We own the table now

 

Chitins do not honor the ancestors

for that is not what they would wished to eat

Nigger does not honor the ancestors

for that is not what they wanted you to be

You don’t have to take the scraps left behind

to find pride in your history

when you were smelting iron

before the Romans even knew what to do

you came from kings and queens

 

The poison you sell to your own people

and the things you say out of ignorance

Is not a testament to the reality of the black experience

There is a safety in numbers,

that’s why our family tree has this pestilence

Not just a couple of branches, it’s in the root, it’s in our consciousness

That what we want is really what we want and not just fed to us

This need for expensive clothes and cars, praying to a lily white jesus

 

There was no Manifest Destiny in Africa,

that’s what the Europeans gave to you

Manifest Destiny is the illusionary beast

that funded the Americas and their tool

 

to help you forget

but never forget

You predate Manifest Destiny

You predate nigger

You predate chitlins

You predate the brothas who figure

getting high is all they got

You predate the Sodom and Gomorrah

You predate Lot

You predate the notion that God hates

gays because of that fable

You predate capitalism

You predate cable

You measured the cadence

in ocean waves

You raised children in cities

You raised children in caves

You constructed mathematics

You constructed mythology

You constructed cosmetics

You constructed hematology

You are in Congress

You are in Senate

You have been to the moon

You built Kimet

You were a slave

But you predate that too

(you get it?) you predate constraint

You predate you

 

And you are still here

(you get it?) You are still here

 

There is a song that needs to be sung

and I’ll try to come up with the right words

about your legacy

and your disregard

about how you are not

what you choose to be

wnly what you have been taught

to believe

 

It is a rebel song

Because rebel means to repel

the joys of assimilation

Because angels can’t fail

with the right ammunition

 

Because there is a safety in numbers

So it’s no wonder

Why so many have made

Meals from the scraps

They gave us

Despite the fact

We can sit at the table now

We own the table now

 

You don’t have to take the scraps

left behind

to find

your pride

 

Never forget

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Breeze Vincinz

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