A Message To A Black Son The Revolution Will Not Be Televise Author Jacqueline Amos Blackman sons of the African American Queen shall not sit back and watch my mothers swing from the trees, it takes a village to raise a child I shall not be still and watch the lynching of black pride. I the sons of sons, the brother of Jesus, the mother Mary who have brought me cross, brothers of the Universe listen as my sister speak the laws of a jewel. Mother Africa, will not be tarnished By those who where the mask. Mother Universe you know has the floor, Speak your son's will listen as you Bring us across. We shall now humble. I carried you nine months, I fed you from the milk of my breast. There should be no confusion Who is the Nubian black queen? I taught you that man and women Must be equally yoke. Yet you live through the eyes Of the world, when I taught You that God is the ruler of all, You sit in council as You defame my name. So who the hell is the angry black Woman? You say in distress, I the eyes that you have seen, The shoulder that you lean, The bread and butter, When father was not there, The milk and honey of the world. My soul has boundaries, which no one shall cross. My eyes are flooded. And my heart is lost. I am trap I can't get cross. As I walk to the light I shall not fear. The love of you God. The pain of the world the soul that cried. Mama black berry baby, daughters of the universal tribe. I sing the songs. The black berry baby shall carry my name. I give you the treasures of thy soul; I give to you the children of the future. That my legacy shall not foul. I the ancestor of your history, will I ever see the dreams, of my legacy. Blackberry Africa that sings the liberation of thy seed. Oh the fruits of his Garden I sip of the waters of his tree, I return to the fruits it gives me great strength. Tears that fall upon my forest, Mountains that sings. Glory to thee. I rise, above the mountains, you wipe the tears away, Man who lives within a prison, which no one understands, Victim within self, victimize by his own mind, He pleads for escape, which the battle is within, I taught you well my son, nevertheless I wear the shield of woman, I was the mother and father, When I stood alone, loyalty is granted Nevertheless it was not the way you wanted. But yet I never a bandit you I walk step by step As the warrior that God ordained. Oh thy Glory to thy God, I have fallen short of my own Disregards, but I cry not for you my son. I cry for I who have been the backbone of the world When my sons have crossed over, and lynched me Through the corners of my mind. Oh what a bitter pill to swallow, When man turn his back On the creations of the heavenly father, I the creations, The life line of my father, yet you close all the Doors as you take the biblical cord and lynch me By the hands that I birth in the name of love. I felt the pain of labor, the deformation of swollen legs, The taste of life and death, The labor of love thinking only Of the inheritance that was Granted by God. The miracles which Became, my horror, the rebellious son, So who am I to cry nevertheless you kill me Through the corner of mind. Silence you may say, but my son you an are one, I woman warrior Shall never walk through the back door. Judge me not by the back door whore. I shall not judge you by the scum of the earth. I the mother of wisdom the barrier Of Kings and Queens. Shall always be the spoken words of deliverance, Theses words would only be understood by A Nubian king.