Vodun

A girl got pregnant today...
 Not a lady, not a tramp
 Not a grown woman on food stamps but a child

I wonder to myself,
"Why this young one, so tender, so mild?"
Then it hits me:
  like whips to slaves,
  we live in a new age
  where promiscuous sex is moral
  and waking up to a person whose
  last name is unknown is the new normal

Is it the drugs and alcohol on T.V?
The degradation of black families?
Or maybe the gang wars prevalent in the streets?

See, when you live in a concrete jungle
  where dreams and aspirations are only mumbled
   and police sirens are amplified
   while people step over bodies as if their landmines
    straight suicide----are these conditions.

Her pregnancy isn't by chance or some cockamamie happenstance
  but this is nurtured.
Her mother never showed love to her and her mother's mother never spoke loving words to her
  so where the hell is she supposed to learn to love?

Novels say love's a fantasy
  bringing frankincense and myrrh presented by a king
While the television purports buffoonery,
  menage-a-trios in the clubs until 2 or 3
  but it all starts with the family

The deconstruction of the family structure
  leads to mothers and fathers' relationship rupture
  replaced by baby mama and "favas" mustered
  all from a systematic plan to destroy a culture
  This is cultured---with a cult-herd
    these sheeple are buying into their folk-LURE!

Now, back to this pregnancy,
  in which, she's been touched since the age of three
  her step-father suffers from slavery's PTSD
Now, he's on the run
  the collective's suicidal gun:
  Another single, black mother
  raising her STEP/SON
 

That Comeback Kid

Don't confuse my passion for anger,
   my emotion for weakness,
As it is the deepness of my voice that makes me
   A proud black man

The prideful power for my reproduction
 to destroy a race--causing colorless coats to make
 an "about face."

The prideful kinship of Ghanian kings,
 not merely limited to the Talented 10th's dreams.

The prideful nature to secure and protect,
 not just making my nature casually erect

Casually erect...
Casually erect...

This assimilation culture
 has caused us to be maniacally depressed

The high school pipeline to prison that exists
The voting suppression we struggle to witness
The routine traffic stops...the Terry frisks

Not SLOWLY but SURELY
We've lost our original minds in it

Don't confuse my confrontation for disrespect,
 my rebuttal for suspicion,
As it is the tenacity of my fight back that makes me
 A proud black man.

The prideful power to invoke fear in minds,
 when I submit my papers on time.

The prideful wisdom to navigate the seas,
 (the paintings show WHO cured Europe's disease)

The prideful confidence in my walk,
 not the portrait of a thug lurking to stalk.

Lurking to stalk
Lurking to stalk

To this inverted society,
 I balk.

Ancient Egypt illustrates where religion began
If true, Mithra then Jesus are of Africans
Even Sammy Sosa has turned black again...

So please excuse my Black for African!

Southern Challenge

The homie has a name
And it's femininity at its best
The essence of African beauty
With American aura illuminating from her chest.

The mind sounds of prophetic trumpets
Blasting down Camps Bay
While the words that cross her lips
Calls Khartoum's children to celebrate!

Celebrate with love, celebrate with tears
For the prodigal daughter is found
After all these years

Celebrate this day, no longer astray
For the children of Langa
Have brought her back to stay

Now, the homie has a mission
To which she must see through
And I am grateful to be on the journey
Because this woman's heart is magnificently true.

G. Pop

Five minutes of joy
Then ten minutes of pain
Everlasting life is inundated by rain.

Denial awakens at dawn
From lying within your sheets
Chanting frustration and verification...
Verification that still remains asleep...

Then anger presents itself
Seeking to nibble at your heels
Until your skin peels
Begging to be one with your descendant son

And it does...
It does...

Cause former joy
To be inundated by rain
Thinking about the times
Of unmerited pain

Unmerited pain...
And then the bargaining begins

Echoes of past times doing pasttimes
For the last time
Meanders through your mind...
As you plead for more time..

But there is none...
There is none...

Depressive ideologies
Mocks your philosophies
Of future practicalities
Becoming nonexistent possibilities

That amounts to nothing-ness...
Nothing-ness...

Causing former joy
To be inundated by rain
Thinking about the times
Of unmerited pain

Unmerited pain...

Until at dusk,
Your acceptance of the truth
Tastes like a bitter fruit
Sour and uncouth
Begins to take root

And there's nothing you can do
But reflect on memories to get you through

Memories to get you through...