by Qwantu Amaru
Acknowledgements
Thank God for the talent, mind and soul.
Mom and Dad for the nurturing, morals, intellect and insight.
Keith Rogers for the vision.
Friends and family for the undying support.
BackTalk! poetry troupe for the movement.
contents
genesis
the faces of our forefathers
generation Y?
parade of fools
slime like you (for Sean Bell)
trapped
insomnia
spring cleaning
reality check
until dawn
memory’s bliss
the wall
sick & tired
for the jena 6
work shit (remix)
I dare you
after the storm
Genesis
emerge within the light,
from the river of life to where love lives.
reach for the nurturing sun.
the darkness holds tight.
genetic punishment
for past lives past deeds.
saplings must awake the subconscious conscience,
diminish conscious resistance,
learn wrong from right and grow second sight.
to recognize the budding flower,
and feel the warmth of its aura,
find an oracle to answer questions about day and night.
and why seasons age and die,
as good and evil commit the left and right hands
into a lifelong fight.
why love and hate are born,
twin siblings with opposing intentions.
invention--the zygote of necessity must reach for new heights.
in the hall of mirrors, past reflections shimmer like a rainbow.
optical confusions that invite esteem and ego,
on quests for the truth of self.
walking paths of spiritual might,
strength drains and reality becomes a dream,
or nightmare, of the death of questions of perception.
black or white?
unity is the essence and the absence,
and the final reason we return into the light…
The Faces of Our Forefathers
Talk this way
Walk this way
Do as the massas’ say...
Might is right
White is right
So by these rules we play...
Go to school
View the tools
That are used to oppress...
Play the fool
Act as mules
Change the way you dress...
Live for this world
Ignore plans unfurled
Keep your hair uncurled...
Pray to the Lord
Only when you’re bored
With what’s on TV...
Are you free
If you choose not to see
Jail bars made out of gold?
Bought and sold
But never told
To step out of the mold...
It’s just too bad
That no one’s mad
Enough to take what they’ve never had...
As we forget the past
And the millions they’ve harassed
Wondering why we’re so sad...
The descendants of kings
Now chasing the same things
That led to their demise...
Faith in lies
Missing our piece of the pies
Divided right before our eyes...
We’ve been kicked when we were down
Now we’re used to the ground
No longer reaching to the skies...
Living for the lowest highs
With no will left to try
Dying as our forefather’s cry
Generation Y?
Labeled as slackers and punk pistol packers
A generation of kids who have forgotten laughter
From seeing torrid tears of pain stain all that still remain
Those simple and plain caught up in the game…
For every step forward take 365 steps back
Hooked on the rack of sex, crack, and dime sacks
Broken by the streets, with no shoes on their feet
Beaten by defeat and left weak, they take their seats…
At the back of the bus waiting for the end of the line
Learned to count to nine waiting for the seventh sign
If it weren’t for the common people, life wouldn’t make sense
As poli-tricktions get rich collecting their welfare rents…
Swimming against time, layers of lies, and slime
Searching to find tomorrow’s answers to today’s crimes
Every day the world shrinks through network links
Downloading tainted drinks in sinks drifting closer to the brink…
