by BAR's poet in residence Raymond Nat Turner
With the clock ticking down on Barack Obama's presidency,
black America discovers it was a marriage of conveninece.
And not ours.
My Wise Country Cousin on Blak Folk an de 8 yr Blues…
by BAR's poet in residence Raymond Nat Turner
If you axe me, son, Blak folk got a bad case ob 8 yr Blues
Nuthin’ lak Leadbelly, B.B., Muddy— nuthin’ I can use:
“We in lub wit a wo’ crimnul, but he ain’t in lub wit us
We in lub wit a wo’ crimnul, but he ain’t in lub wit us
His mine on de Koch Bros., Buffit ,’in gawd we truss’
We in lub wit a wo’ crimnul, but he ain’t lubbin us bak
We in lub wit a wo’ crimnul, but he ain’t lubbin us bak
Way he treat us, sumtime, feel lak a sin to be bo’n blak
Wo’ crimnul cum creepin’ roun,’ ‘bout ebry fo’ years
Wo’ crimnul cum creepin’ roun,’ ‘bout ebry fo’ years
Res de time, he in de guardin wit Po-po, sippin’ beers
Got no time fo us, he busy chasin’ Al K. Duh, I. Sool
Got no time fo us, he busy chasin’ Al K. Duh, I. Sool—
Didn’t know betta, we swear he playin’ us fo’ de fool!
Knew our wo’ crimnul was no gud, runnin’ wit dat AG
Knew our wo’ crimnul was no gud, runnin’ wit dat AG
Dey should be stylin’ orange jump sootz, if you axe me
Dat ol’ AG boy jus’ wase all de freakwent-flyur mileage
Dat ol’ AG boy jus’ wase all de freakwent-flyur mileage
Flappin his flappers at funruls— cheesin’ liar smile-age…
He lak tits on a bull, sayin’ dat Dem big boyz too big to jail
He lak tits on a bull, sayin’ dat Dem big boyz too big to jail
But, he listenin’ to us conversate, an he be openin’ our mail!
We’s gonna leeb Dem no gud mens sum day, de lawd willin’…
We’s gonna leeb Dem no gud mens sum day, de lawd willin’…
Toozday, dey stay out all day an’ nite wit Dem drones, killin’
Feel lak we ben commun law, jes shackin’ up fo’ 8 long years
Feel lak we ben commun law, jes shackin’ up fo’ 8 long years
Dem men’s giffs: wo,’ fouclosur, poleez murdur, lies an’ tears…”
Raymond Nat Turner © 2015 All Rights Reserved
This article first appeared in The Guardian.
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