by Raymond Nat Turner
Stop our brothers from
Talking superfluous
Shit, gratuitous
Violence, fratricide…
Like Monsanto madmen,
Killing and polluting
Everything they touch…
Lament for the Late, Great African-American People…
by Raymond Nat Turner
Stentorian voices
Snuffed like birthday
Candles by alphabet
Assassins, ’63-’69…
Ebony toast of the
World being birthed,
Now the laughingstock
With star-spangled
Quislings running on
Alcohol, Geritol,
And protocol,
Huffing and puffing
Hot air in our name
Darling young people
I can’t claim, “You
Dropped a bomb on me,”
Chemical warfare
Using crack cocaine
To wipe out consciousness
Wasn’t your doing and
Of course you didn’t
Conjure tumbleweed
Ghost towns, rust brown, gut
Factories and shutter schools
You didn’t
Robo-steal homes with
Sub-prime loans from
Families living for
Four generations in them
You didn’t
Create death panels
Tearing tender flesh
Off babies baking on spreadsheets—
Still, I’m pissed and
Disappointed in you…
Sometimes I feel like
A simple infant,
A whining baby
Crying over and
Over again and
Again the same wants
Writing over and
Over again and
Again the same poem:
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
Wishing I was Trane
Or Wayne, turning licks
Inside out, outside in, up-
Side down, downside up,
Spinning straw into gold,
Lemons into fresh
Lemonade every night,
Splashing in your faces
Like wet, cold Wikileaks
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
Like lightening bolt, taser
Alerts through Dr Dre
Headphones wrapped ‘round
Your heads, through Snitch
Phone, tablet, notebook,
Game boy, Play Station
Stigmata burned in your
Anesthetized hands
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
Sistas step into
Fannie Lou panties—
Lysistrata licks—
No pussy for provocateur,
Black Klansmen running
Ruthless, like BP oil,
Killing and polluting
Everything they touch…
Stop our brothers from
Talking superfluous
Shit, gratuitous
Violence, fratricide…
Like Monsanto madmen,
Killing and polluting
Everything they touch…
Make them strap on their
Balls, pull up their pants,
Put down their pop guns,
Practice with Pumas,
Nikes and Adidas—
Scoring bull’s-eyes—not
Bullshit…
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE
WAKE UP BLACK PEOPLE…
Raymond Nat Turner can be contacted at upsurgejazz.com.
Raymond Nat Turner © 2013 All Rights Reserved
Malcolm X explained it well. Every Black person in this country is a prisoner, sometimes literally behind bars, and sometimes on the outside of jail, but a prisoner, nonetheless.
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