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What Would the Ancestors Say?

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    by Raymond Nat Turner

    Baptist, baritone strains:

    "I've been to the mountaintop,

    But this is not the mountaintop”

     

    What Would the Ancestors Say?

    by Raymond Nat Turner

     

    I know

    I know

    I know...

    Harriet Tubman didn't slide

    In and out of the slave south

    Nineteen times, $40,000 reward

    Hanging over her head like a

    Scimitar, or Samurai sword;

    Medgar didn't die in his driveway

    Like a dog put down in the pound;

    Malcolm didn't die on floor

    Of the Audubon Ballroom;

    King didn't die on chitlin' curcuit

    Balcony of the Lorraine Motel;

    Fred didn't die in his bed, under

    Hooves of Chicago death squads

    For tomfoolery---nappy-headed

    Foolishness--- Negroz shrinking

    To plantation Rip Van Winkles

    Hung over on Ol' Massa's

    Jim Jones Juice (January '09)

    The eve of world revolution...

     

    I know

    I know

    I know...

    She would be leveling her pistol,

    Leaving at least a half dozen dead

    Negroz, after commanding "Forward,

    Or die!"

     

    I know

    I know

    I know...

    He would be tongue-lashing

    Negroz with his Harlem-tinged

    Tough love: "You've been had,

    You've been took, you've been

    Hoodwinked, you've been bamboozled!"

     

    I know

    I know

    I know...

    He would be intoning in African,

    Baptist, baritone strains:

    "I've been to the mountaintop,

    But this is not the mountaintop,

    No, and I'm concerned that if you

    Continue traversing this treacherous

    Trail you're on, during the dark and

    Difficult days ahead, not only will you

    Not get to the mountaintop, you will

    Find yourselves descending to depths

    So low that it will require you taking an

    Elevator up eighty-six floors; climbing

    Forty flights of stairs to a sub cellar of

    Sin, standing on a step ladder on your

    Tiptoes, just to suck the Devil's dick---

     

    No, I'm afraid I can't be your drum

    Major on this one---

    The drones must be stopped,

    The satanic wars ceased, and

    The barbaric killing of other peoples'

    Babies ended---forever..."

    Raymond Nat Turner (c) 2012 All Rights Reserved

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