A Slave's Rage

Straight off the slave ship, break off the braces

I'm out to take it, I want my forty acres and the mule

If the government is taxation, in full

Like I'm that bastard imbecile!

What I'll do is...embezzle truth to kids

And settle disputes between us, beautifully

To slice power until it's a clean cut or slate

If the system got ate like sorbet

Then beef would be on my plate, gourmet, usually...

I had time to ponder on cuisine

Yet only sages spice the thought

Praises to the nice days sought and seen

Trading hype arts, handmade, type odd

Brought to being, not bought on auction blocks!

We are human beings, not objectified things!

Now, chart these waters, as I dip off a river distant

Listening to my own awkward wishes, feeling different...

Delightfully ripped muscular strands cover glands

Like the sun over lands and oceans

I can't withstand coasting, back and forth

Captain's can't scan the shore without me boasting of my life force

I thought I told you I'm on course

I thought I told ya'll I'm on course!

Navigational aligned, in tune and certainly

Heading toward the source of life, the w()mb

Proverbially...once inside see with a torch lit light

We shall speak, negro spirituals and reach peaks, easily...

Through ritual happenstances and new greetings

Slave masta' gave us actual bone gristle, in disbelief, when hungry

What am I to do with these demon deacons on Sunday?

We can't congregate unless we pay money?

Well, can I exchange these chains for something?!

"This confused patronage on your face is a new awaken, shipmate. It's gonna take time to break this nig', give them the task to dig a grave for him. For the graces of white men, we put down the bravest of 'em!' Get excited to earn your medals my friend!"

...

Awoken with cold sweats with a piece of a bloody sheet as if I was homeless, I notice numbers encoded, scripted on the chest of my clothing. I rub my eyes, to see, at best, in focus. Oh! I know this hell, it's my jail cell. I'm overwhelmed now with a feeling of hopelessness over my whole position as I sit and listen to this prison's nightly symphony. Terrifying screams, horrifying dreams, and tremendous sympathy all with in reach, wall to wall, so to speak. That's why we call it a cellblock man, woe is me. I'm realizing all that slave stuff was just a dream, but it's fucking with me. Modern day slavery, 'ya' don't say?' After the 13th amendment made its way to a congressional table place? The powers to be have found a way to be able to stay in 'slave mode.' Has anything changed, though?