Black Poetry : The Last Rights (Huey Newton Voices From The Grave)

ASHANTA

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Jan 15, 2003
1,859
74
Brooklyn N. Y.
Honor To Heuy Newton



You bound and gagged me like I wasn’t a man
Under the hypocritical oath of justice, all black men
Don’t wear shades, I sit upon
8/11 cage, smoking my self
To death, my brothers that left behind me,
NIGG****** do not give a dam
about freedom of his roots.
I sing revolution from my grave,
Never understanding the
constitutions of my
brothers who just didn’t give a dam,
I sit await the black hearse,
My last rights who gives a dam.
I fought a revolution that my
My brothers be free, just like Judas who plan
the death of a King.
When will my brothers and sisters get it right,
I sit upon the skies and watch my brothers
kill self, talking about a revolution;
when they don’t give a dam about self.

Cracked out , FU**—out, crying down;
with the bit—that gave them life.
I set upon the clouds, put my
gun to my head, I was ready to blow
my head off, in the name of Revolution,
for the spineless men, who didn’t want
to pick up the flag. Mr
. Charlie has snuck through the back door.

Field Nigg****** that hide behind
the strength of black men.
Sisters who refuse to link;
too the coming of change.
Psychological Revolution a hypnotic trance;
Blackman Justice died
when the N****** burned the flag.
Hate me be me hero is nothing but a sandwich.
If you do not love, your brothers and sisters
do not wave the flag. Countless brothers who gave up




The screams of disbelief; the seeds of the
future covered with rusted subdue.
Linked to the slave ship minds that refuse to release.
The unfamiliar minds, the chains of the pass,
ancestors turn one by one.
Death they scream in vein. Genocide the
back door of thieves, chains
that smothers the mind in disbelief, Under, the
darkness of the hood; a corporals
iron that clad the whip; Revolution that
never balance, the scrap
dealer the future and tomorrow.
Believing in an iron brace, which squeeze
the mind even when man is asleep.

The cotton that grows upon the doors, colors
of hate, black baby, red bone
The stool shall be the eye holder of
the want to be slave master;
Separation a people, who is two dam
stupid, to pick up the torch.
Hidden behind the Grungy, spiced up
weed, white power that smothers the mind.

The link to the chains; The battle grounds of
the hoods, public administration sings we are
the living dead, kill my brother the sounds of the smoking Gun

Dark alleys a culture without pride, playing the death drums.
Poetic nightmares that don’t even give a dam;
The pig feet and collar greens, aroma float
through the kitchen windows as the guns go off.


Sisters that refuse to link living in
cloud of instant death, perpetrating
a fraud, Screaming we are one.
Looking down on her sisters, with
slave master eyes, all for self, who
are you where is my sister? Dreads
upon her head, masquerading as a
sister in my the sacred dreads, Who
are you that comes with the locks
of my King, claming to be my brother,
as I turn my back you shoot me dead.
Pimping ministers, thank you Jesus devils who is your King?





There is more than sugar coated words.
The revolution was about sacrifice giving love,
under know means to break the code of unity.
Revolution is sealed in a book.

Blackman justice shall not be
dictated by another man are being.
When a man began to plead for freedom,
from another man; he emancipate his self;
as a want to be slave;
The will to be free is a gift from God.
There will be no back door front door,
In the 21th Century are neither shall
it ever happen in this world order crucial moments awaits,
Nationalities need no permission from another man.
To classify him as a man; Loyalty to God is freedom.
A slave is a man who is a better man dead;
than live in clutches of another man.
Knowledge is vain humility shall be sustained.

All nigg… talk about is fu..this..fu…that
Every word is latch between their crouch, what is revolution?
cowards hiding behind the red, black,
and green, gang banging, dope sniffing,
holy than thou whores, pimping in the name of blackness,

Supremacy holds hostage the soul of a man
who is submissive to another’s mans demands;
A dead man without a soul.
This game call reverse psychology is a myth that the devils used,
to formulate a stereotype theme.
Slavery was only for a few who were in strange place of land.
The critique of society plays its games. Psychological abuse,
that tames an conquer the self esteem of a man.
Ain't go be no change until ignorance is dead

My brother’s and sisters what color is your mask?

Racism Institutional structure as law,
social instruments, within the lines of humanity
dictates are determines what black men
an women should be; An what they cant do in society.
It’s a fool who will aloud another man to dictate there fate.
A man of vindictiveness will only, exploit, ridicule,
terrorize an undermined, to destroy another man
for his own self gratifications, nigg…repeat the same script


Brother against Brother, after the Prophet Died,
A drug call power, has killed the family pride
Some the fertilize souls,
Some who sit in the power of authority
Ejaculation an hypocrisies
Living in a cocoon without the clue to lead.
Rolling and Ravings as the night began
Hiding behind the tom, tom’s theories truth must not be told.​
 
Let his spirit from the grave speak
so that ears become weak
to hear his voice and will
the grounds he stood and heart of real
his battle to free many in the depth of
REVOLUTIONAIRY

This was deep and hard , lovin the flow here
keep speaking with dat pen sista.........WOW!
 

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