My Wise Country Cousin on Mule Dung at the Apollo

by BAR poet in residence Raymond Nat Turner

Negroz is linin’ up early outside de doze ob de famus Apollo
Fo’ lissenin’ to Massa Willyum an’ Miss Hillre ol’ mule show
Malcum an’ Dr. Martha Lutha Kang is rollin’ in dey graves
At Negroz nappy-headed foolishness: Sixteen Years Slaves!
Why you axin’ me, “Whazzup wit de Klintuns an’ Negroz?”
Lawdy, lawd, lawd—son, dats one dat de Debil only knows
It sorta lak Dem luv afares where jus’ about anything goes—
Naw, it’s mo’ lak de way dat an ol’ pimp be treatin’ his hoes!

Miss Hillree ‘member how Massa Willyum’s fool de spades
A pawn shop saxophone frum Arsenio, an’ slippin’ on shades
An’ tellin’ tomfool Negroz dat he be dere fus Blak Pressedent
Openin’ Negroz noses—not enuf to smell Klintun sulfur scent
You’s axin’ me why grown-ass Negroz is ackin’ so chile-like
Bout de ones dat put thousuns ob dem away wit ‘Three Strike?’
Dem damn Klintuns put mo’ Negroz in jumpsuits, behin’ bars
Den cloudless night skies dats way out in de countree got stars

Sumpin’ speshull ‘bout Miss Hillree an’ Massa Willyum mule
Dat keep makin’ po’ Negroz walla in mule shit an’ ack a fool?
Dey jus’ confurmin’ dat de lebul ob conshusniz is mightee low
An dat Negro polytishuns go where ebber de mos cash flow...

8 years ob cheerin’ fo’ de Negro Commanduh an’ his Kill Liss...
Negroz put Dem sefs in de mos’ wicked an’ de mos’ ugly twiss
Followin’ Miss Hillree coben ob nut-job Nuland an’ Sam Powurs
Happy Dancin’ to drone strikes an’ de souns ob crimsun showers...
Fearin’ de thug in a rug, dey runnin’ fo’ de Golda-plated Iron Lady
Carpetbagger who been down dere wit her foundayshun lootin’ Haiti
Negroz need lazur surgree fo’ burnin’ mule shit katarcks off dey eyes So dey can see enuf to recognize woffs runnin’ roun’ in sheep dis-skies!

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