Black Poetry : Feelin' like rhymin' on somethin' anti-mainstream social (the headbanger)

blakverb

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Mar 19, 2001
2,627
33
My pen is pensive been thinkin'
'bout writin' spittin' fightin'
with scribes that lie within my
mind / ink brewin' spewin'
from the barrel double knowin'
it's gone be trouble trouble trouble
if Miss Liberty don't deal me a good hand
let the band play with woodwinds
and blow this Union apart with our
UNION as blak people blessed with
skin dark or lighter melanin it's
the gift GOD gave us he delivered
US when ya'll enslaved us and we
as poets are the descendents of
the ones they could not
kill on the side of the road
blood cold vultures try to sell
us our culture the sad thing is we
swallow the bullshyt pills and ring
the liberty bell when a KKKmart
special is Code Blue/ light a match
burn this hell and be true to who
you know as you / tired of being BLACK
and blue beaten by the boys in blue
'til we resemble Emmitt Till lives
America steals and WHO ARE THE REAL
criminals? Brainwashed past subliminal
levels the devils wear suits now
and how now brown cow how do you
moo? when the pastures you reside
in are feeding you bluegrass poisoning
your insides got you thinking Cleopatra
really looks like Liz Taylor white girls
blowing up your pager the BLACK WACk man's
savior too many black stallions chasing
white horses even on the golf courses
my fault Tiger Woods no your fault Tiger
Woods kids brainwashed "I want to be Tiger
Woods" yeah since the money is good
if he was living on east side Detroit
he'd be just another nig...g...uh in the hood
getting beat with a stick swung by
a contry clubs members club back rub
blak woman soothes me into eternity
from here to my body leaves this earth
then to my soul she'll give birth and call
me Tiharka or Pianky kings from the 25th
dynasty of Kush or Hip Hop fanatic
brother Cold Crush brother blakverb
akshunmanwurd moving swinging
elbows smacking Uncle sam square in
the mouth cause he's standing in the lane
gotta get him before I go insane because
of lame games wrapped in Cinquains
seduce me with immorality trapped in
a poetic style verse an old trick propaganda
slanda to inject the curse into my mental
with a pale dick to kill this blak diaspora
patriot commanda but I say you can't
***** me outta my history you can't
***** me 'til I am diseased with Syphilis
like you did the brothers in Tuskegee
molotav cocktails on ready pen cocked
to block rocks served on platinum
covered blocks called record labels
pushers of broken beat down depressed
fables of blak folks oppression teaching
lessons of as...s/es and bling bling
regressions to money rules the
world /and just like time/ the value
of currency is manmade and what is the
value of your life nig...g...uh? Killin' our
people/ fillin' the space beneath church
steeples/ because you are the prophets
of tha anti-prophets that make a profit
off of our problems from drug treatment/
to 24 track song track completement that's
got the masses shaking there rumps and being
unconsciencely cranial cramped and bumped
to the back of Society's lily white bus.

(c)2001 blakverb
 

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