we feed on that slave barrack dust
grow fat on your hatred
bleed songs and tap-dances
from your left-overs
imagine who we be
living through the sardine shipment
the rapes
the beatings
the castrations
the humiliation
what son of Denmark Vecsey you wanna fuck wit?
what child of Tubman or Assata you wanna run wit?
what son of Cuffy L'Ouverture or Douglass
what Nat Turner progeny is in our dark corners
waiting to rise?
seed of Huey child of Malcolm Amistad badass
you think you wanna follow into this absurd future
not knowing the difference between backs and walls?
what child of Crazy Horse you think you wanna fight?
these too we take into the dark
into these mysterious folds of skin
under arms and between our legs
backs of our throats
and all them swamps you don't wanna follow through
East New York, Brooklyn and Oakland, Californnia
Fifth Ward, Houston and South Side, Chicago
every reservation every store-front church
every Erzulie ritual and Santero offering
what buffalo soldier you think you want
turnin' on yo ass?
what hip-hop beat or gospel growl you want
raising spirits against you?
what zydeco what capoeira you want
holding a gun to your head?
we who survive Ku Klux Klan and Move bombings
who didn't get thrown overboard
who didn't get sick in the passage
this shit ain't no coincidence
all this we take into the dark
grow stink to fester like culture
you don't want none of this Mau Mau shit
none of this Panther shit
this Black Jacobin shit
from we who survive
Giuliani and Jasper, Texas
you think this shit would have been easier?
don't push us Mr. White
you don't want us putting down these pens
emerging from this black night
(c) Roger Bonair-Agard, 2003
