Greetings
Some of you may be familiar with the Brother Toyin Agbetu. He is the Afrikan who stood up in Westminster Abbey last year.
He has been arrested again .... this is his story .....
Betrayal by Toyin
nothing hurts like betrayal
physical wounds heal
congeal
blood dries
bones mend
again and
again
but spirit torn
as zombies swarm
vacuous entitities
spouting alien ideologies
convinced
of their overseer supremacy
agents of white male supremacy
anti nature degeneracy
in Truth....
...simply masking
their own indolent inadequacies
enslaved to massa
through currency
breeding docility
violent instability
moral impotency
they look at me
they don’t see me
don’t see we are one
instead go for their guns
conscious African
needs to be made unconscious
its fun!
throwing blows to my head
swearing
wishing me dead
cussing
seeing nothing but red
its fun!
punching me in the stomach
ripping my shirt from my chest
grabbing my bag in jest
it doesn’t matter I haven’t done anything wrong
its fun!
attack
attack
no longer brother
i am now their other
attack
attack
no longer family
am now the other
attack
attack
now joined by police
hoisted off my feet
cheers as im dragged semi naked
into a jubilant crowd
chained once again
recapaptured
as house negros on the float grin
“look massa got toby” again
“that kunta was never my friend”
I talk
taut
dialogue
with
arresting
force officers
wrought with pain
of
“assault”
to no avail
they cannot act on instinct
they cannot act on truth
they cannot act beyond that what they see before them..
..an African daring to honour his Ancestors?
the prancing negros
dance on
the crowds follow
continue the new song
“the audacity”
“…who is he”
“…to tell we”
unknowingly
spectators to the continuing story of their own demise
in a tale where they are the despised
and yet unwittingly
willingly providing the entertainment
they are the entertainment
controlled through
state containment
fate contained
sprit stained
again and again
so chained
and in pain
i walk
surrounded by police
observed by thousands
in a virtual colloseum
all in silence
not one seeks to help
not one seeks to help
no-one seeks to help
no-one
not one
one
its fun!
its carnivorous carnival
“mate - that’s what it about”
“celebrate!”
“celebrate what?” I think
but my thoughts are drowned out
as the noise
imposes its will
my gladiator status has been temporarily repealed
my fate by judges for injustice to be once again sealed
meanwhile
the BBC float
1xtra
denotes;
"the African role is to entertain,
that’s when we give you fame,
none of this dignified Ancestor game,
leading to blame,
causing massa shame"
so instead
as im dragged through the crowd semi naked
men avoiding eye contact
women winking obsessing on my bare chest
“dangerous African” arousing jungle fever
elders look down at me shame faced
“disgrace”
only the young Africans
share my pain with empathy
some not knowing detail
but feeling it the same
and for minutes I walk
bare-chested
but proud
through that crowd
flanked by massa soliders
chains behind my back
spirit still intact
despite
fact
leaving me semi naked
cold wind blowing
for over an our
as externally I bear the indignity
trying to maintain nobility
as passerbys
look
gawk
but never stop
not even so called ‘black’ cop
At 4pm, I remain silent
and again that day
ask the Ancestors for guidance and protection
they lead me inside
and I retain my dignity
I don’t want to hurt the other
I don’t need to hurt the other
but the other wants to hurt me
the other feels it needs to hurt me
abuse me
incarcerate me
assassinate me
through me
and do crimes
to me
until eventually I’ll be free
eventually
eventually I leave force custody
home with family
sleep uncomfortably
and so I sit here this morning writing
wanting to cry
again
but the release wont flow
so I sit here writing
for a means to dispel the anger
but the spirit says no
and after libation
I suddenly know
I am not afraid
I am not afraid
I am ashamed
for they shame we
for until we no longer
pretend we are free
until we
when you see I
meaning we
meaning love
self above
me
liberation work
comes to an end
my so called friends, brothers, others..
you see
nothing hurts like betrayal
for betrayal is like no other hurt.
Toyin Agbetu, 26 August 2008Written following the arrest and imprisonment of Toyin Agbetu at Notting Hill Carnival on Bank Holiday Monday where he was injured in an unprovoked attack by several Notting Hill Carnival security staff after giving a BBC 1xtra DJ a flyer asking for him to support a united call for three minutes silence in remembrance of our Ancestors. Toyin sustained bruising to his head where he was repeatedly punched. None of the assailants were arrested. They were all African.
Ligali | Equality for African People
______________
Afrikans! .... as the last grains of sand trickle by, KNOW thyself. Still thyself and LISTEN. It is only within you shall find truth by the very blood that runs in your veins.
Open your eyes
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=la1ke_h-KRs&feature=related
And so it is
Some of you may be familiar with the Brother Toyin Agbetu. He is the Afrikan who stood up in Westminster Abbey last year.
He has been arrested again .... this is his story .....
Betrayal by Toyin
nothing hurts like betrayal
physical wounds heal
congeal
blood dries
bones mend
again and
again
but spirit torn
as zombies swarm
vacuous entitities
spouting alien ideologies
convinced
of their overseer supremacy
agents of white male supremacy
anti nature degeneracy
in Truth....
...simply masking
their own indolent inadequacies
enslaved to massa
through currency
breeding docility
violent instability
moral impotency
they look at me
they don’t see me
don’t see we are one
instead go for their guns
conscious African
needs to be made unconscious
its fun!
throwing blows to my head
swearing
wishing me dead
cussing
seeing nothing but red
its fun!
punching me in the stomach
ripping my shirt from my chest
grabbing my bag in jest
it doesn’t matter I haven’t done anything wrong
its fun!
attack
attack
no longer brother
i am now their other
attack
attack
no longer family
am now the other
attack
attack
now joined by police
hoisted off my feet
cheers as im dragged semi naked
into a jubilant crowd
chained once again
recapaptured
as house negros on the float grin
“look massa got toby” again
“that kunta was never my friend”
I talk
taut
dialogue
with
arresting
force officers
wrought with pain
of
“assault”
to no avail
they cannot act on instinct
they cannot act on truth
they cannot act beyond that what they see before them..
..an African daring to honour his Ancestors?
the prancing negros
dance on
the crowds follow
continue the new song
“the audacity”
“…who is he”
“…to tell we”
unknowingly
spectators to the continuing story of their own demise
in a tale where they are the despised
and yet unwittingly
willingly providing the entertainment
they are the entertainment
controlled through
state containment
fate contained
sprit stained
again and again
so chained
and in pain
i walk
surrounded by police
observed by thousands
in a virtual colloseum
all in silence
not one seeks to help
not one seeks to help
no-one seeks to help
no-one
not one
one
its fun!
its carnivorous carnival
“mate - that’s what it about”
“celebrate!”
“celebrate what?” I think
but my thoughts are drowned out
as the noise
imposes its will
my gladiator status has been temporarily repealed
my fate by judges for injustice to be once again sealed
meanwhile
the BBC float
1xtra
denotes;
"the African role is to entertain,
that’s when we give you fame,
none of this dignified Ancestor game,
leading to blame,
causing massa shame"
so instead
as im dragged through the crowd semi naked
men avoiding eye contact
women winking obsessing on my bare chest
“dangerous African” arousing jungle fever
elders look down at me shame faced
“disgrace”
only the young Africans
share my pain with empathy
some not knowing detail
but feeling it the same
and for minutes I walk
bare-chested
but proud
through that crowd
flanked by massa soliders
chains behind my back
spirit still intact
despite
fact
leaving me semi naked
cold wind blowing
for over an our
as externally I bear the indignity
trying to maintain nobility
as passerbys
look
gawk
but never stop
not even so called ‘black’ cop
At 4pm, I remain silent
and again that day
ask the Ancestors for guidance and protection
they lead me inside
and I retain my dignity
I don’t want to hurt the other
I don’t need to hurt the other
but the other wants to hurt me
the other feels it needs to hurt me
abuse me
incarcerate me
assassinate me
through me
and do crimes
to me
until eventually I’ll be free
eventually
eventually I leave force custody
home with family
sleep uncomfortably
and so I sit here this morning writing
wanting to cry
again
but the release wont flow
so I sit here writing
for a means to dispel the anger
but the spirit says no
and after libation
I suddenly know
I am not afraid
I am not afraid
I am ashamed
for they shame we
for until we no longer
pretend we are free
until we
when you see I
meaning we
meaning love
self above
me
liberation work
comes to an end
my so called friends, brothers, others..
you see
nothing hurts like betrayal
for betrayal is like no other hurt.
Toyin Agbetu, 26 August 2008Written following the arrest and imprisonment of Toyin Agbetu at Notting Hill Carnival on Bank Holiday Monday where he was injured in an unprovoked attack by several Notting Hill Carnival security staff after giving a BBC 1xtra DJ a flyer asking for him to support a united call for three minutes silence in remembrance of our Ancestors. Toyin sustained bruising to his head where he was repeatedly punched. None of the assailants were arrested. They were all African.
Ligali | Equality for African People
______________
Afrikans! .... as the last grains of sand trickle by, KNOW thyself. Still thyself and LISTEN. It is only within you shall find truth by the very blood that runs in your veins.
Open your eyes
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=la1ke_h-KRs&feature=related
And so it is
