1. |
Understand What Black Is
06:09
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Understand what Black is
The source from which all things come
The security blanket for the stars
Understand what Black is
It is not a color
It is the bases of all colors
It is not a complexion
It is a reflection
Of all complexions called human
And out of this Blackness
Passion flows like a river
Feelings tell the truth
Song and dance
And making you laugh
Are family members
Understand what Black is
The breath you breathe
The sweat on your brow
The cheers and the tears
Balancing the world on your head
Faith is the glue
That holds us all together
This is your Blackness
Not some horror story
Of lost souls drifting
Into the land of perversion
Blackness is love
Is a light shinning on a path
Leading to the Sun
Or caressed in the bosom of the moon
Understand what Black is
Power you must yield to
A force so strong
We try to sleep it away
A jolt to your circuits
That say you must be electric
And plugged in to the sockets of the world
Black is humanity
That beautiful chord
On a twelve string guitar
That makes you smile
That offers comfort
In turbulent times
Provides food
When there’s nothing to eat
A shelter when there’s no where to live
Black is humanity
Making hope stand tall and not wilt
Because Black knows
Did it before
Tested by fire
Washed in the waters of life
Black is hot
Black is cool
Black is wise
And could never be a fool
Understand what Black is
Black is a hero not a villain
Black is the essence
Sealed with a kiss
Black is the stone
We build our dreams on
A shadow at evening’s mist
Bigger than reality
Blending into the night
To let the Sun chill
And watch the stars dance
In rhythm to the music in our souls
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2. |
North, East, West, South
07:14
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The news…. North, East, West, South.
Hard core Honky tonk of St. Louis
Jimi Hendrix soundings and rebounding
The cool slick slide of Chicago Bop
The suave and sexiness of Motown
The soft winds of a desert breeze.
The horns, the piano and drums.
Feeling astronomical, intergalactic.
The sound of sounds charming snakes.
The news… North, East, West, South.
The swiftness and elegance if a magic carpet ride
Veiled women teasing and tantalizing from the
outer fringes of the market place.
A sharp crisp military strut
Little drummer boys playing with big drums.
Innocent flirtations of the big band sound.
Some astral traveling. Blues and funk gone amok
Some Broadway and Hollywood sound
tracking down… the truth of this beginning.
How did it come to be.
The News… North, East, West, South.
Was it Jazz Prince? Was it classical?
Or was it just some of that Razz Matazz
from the upper tiers of your mind.
Back to the beginning...
Trudging through deep, deep snow
and blizzard like winds smashing up against your face.
Trying to get to somewhere, anywhere soon.
The sounds and rhythms of the machines in the factories
booming out there concertos to our receptive ears.
And we walked with that and we talked with that. It was our
swing and then our bop. The way we hipped and the way we hopped.
Our clothes, our style. That Motown Wile.
Those Midwestern challenges, that Midwestern funk.
Brothers and sisters huddled together. That burden of anticipation.
Your mother. My mother. Cowering behind fractured moments
And the illusion that blind devotion could solve the unsolvable.
Genius struggling against the brilliance of itself.
My father ... Your father ... musicians.
Talented creative ... productive ... and highly frustrated by the dead ends
and dead stops that impeded and curtailed their progression.
The future looking for someone to take it forward.
You took up that mantle and I took up that mantle.
and we never ever forgot where we came from .
A soft kiss of wine emboldens the passion.
A dimmed Red light eases the apprehension and doubt.
The Delfonics make their presence known.
The heat of the moment is so right up against the wall,
under the stairs, in between the washer and dryer where it
all becomes so juicy and wet. A promise. A proposition. A phenomena when those
basements started to grind. Those Midwestern challenges. That Midwestern funk.
That Church piano . . . on why don't you call me anymore. You could be church
Prince. That Sunday Morning solo. That voice that could bring the congregation
to the best of themselves. You could be that doo wop singer on the corner
holding and preserving the highest note of our pleasures and fantasies.
Was Warner Music a challenge? No ... Just a matter of time .
Was Purple Rain a challenge? No… Just your poetic rhyme.
Was all ... the music you created a challenge. No…Just the essence of your sublime.
The 2017 MTV awards. Sheila E coming down the aisle
Prince already at the altar. This night, this time,
This union will become a force. A direct assault upon our senses.
The audience had better check their immune systems.
They could catch cold. Because it’s about to become very ... very ... cool... up in here.
That soaring, guitar. Those scorching timbales.
See mommy, see Papi. You Brother ... Yoh Sister ... We
can do this, We are this. That High Order of Afro Cuban. African American
Musical collaborations. Thank you Dizzy. Thank you Chano. A marvellous
rendition of call and response. The meringue, the salsa, That Piano. The Horns
giving a shout out to their cousins of the Blues… the Jazz and the funk of
the dancers on stage giving credence to who we are and where we came from.
Music ... is the sound of Beauty... and you displayed and dispensed that beauty
as well as anybody Prince. A new symbol for your fans. Avid followers. Deeply
devoted believers in your talent and humanity.
Wherever you were was where they wanted to be. By bus by car by train By Plane.
And you mesmerised... you tantalised... you romanticised them with death defying acts of musical
genius. The speed... velocity... and depth of your splits and turns...
The acrobatic joyous atmosphere you brung to every corner of the stage. You were
that whirling dervish that baptised us in the name of feeling good about ourselves
while being at ease in the presence of others. You had that magic of
transforming Adults into gleeful little children. And we were okay with that
we could handle that. Because we could feel the love and respect you were sharing
with us as much as we were sharing it with you. You made us feel like
family. The Human ... family.
The women in your life loved you trusted you.
They allowed you to explore their passions ... their doubts ... their
moments of joy. And every moment that you were accepted into their presence
you always tried to make them feel ... big ... about themselves. They adored that
they cherished that. Because they knew that as long as you were trying
to love and accept them. Then you would truly learn how to love yourself.
Sleep well... Brave Prince ... for your deed and proclamations shall be forever
renowned throughout the land. And I pledge to you that with all my heart and
worth. I will try to make sure that no Purple Rain gets stuck in the clouds again.
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3. |
How Many Bullets
04:30
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You Can’t Kill Me
You Can’t Kill What You Can’t See
Oh How You’ve Tried
To Blow My Brains Out With Bigotry
Chopped Off My Wings
So I Couldn’t Fly Free
And Dared Me To Be Me
Took My Drum
Broke My Hands
Yanked My Roots Right Up Out Of The Land
And Riddled My Soul With Jesus
You Who Filled The Mind With Dreams
And The Heart With Desires
You Called America
Called New York
Called California
Called Mississippi
Or The West
You With Your Red White And Blue Dress
Long Straggly Beard
Popped Belly And Soggy Eyes
Pulling Rabbits Out Of Your Top Hat
And Rats With Welfare Checks
Between Their Long Yellow Fangs
Play In Your Hair
And Your Disease Is Spreading Everywhere
But You Can’t Kill Me
You Can’t Shoot What You Can’t See
You Thought You Shot Malcolm
But All You Did Was Multiply His Power
You Thought You Shot Martin
And Black Folks Got Stronger By The Hour
You Thought You Blew Away
Four Little Girls In Birmingham
The Sweet Spirit Of A Lamb
Cannot Die Or Be Denied
Of Life Eternally
And We Shall Live Through All
The Barrages Of Madness
That Try To Shoot Us Down
In Full And Living Color
We Will Live Inspite Of It For
Clifford, For Mark, Fred, Otis
Zayd, Arthur, Mrs. King, For
George And Jonathan
And All The Brothers And Sisters
Who Were Sacrificed For The Price
Of Our Freedom
And Love For Living
And Dancing On Clouds
Sipping Sun Rays Through A Straw
We Live In Awe Of Ourselves
You Can’t Kill Me
You Can’t Kill What You Can’t See
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4. |
She Is
05:03
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She is the Jaliyaa
She did not leave us to die in the burning and ransacked
Villages. The Mandinka and Fula.
She did not leave our souls to rot in the bellies of sharks.
The Tiliboo & Tiligi,
She picked us up and out of the bile and vomit and the blood of our prayers
streaming profusely down the sides of our faith.
She landed us gently on our
new beginning while clothing our nakedness in the shadows of her smile. She
was our death and resurrection of Jesus began
a strange and difficult existence in the crack of the whip. In the rage of the overseer.
In the lashes shredding and cutting into his Virgin birth.
The primitive, The primitive and crudely crafted
drums throbbing and pulsating, and contradictions dancing,
and she is chanting whose children are· these?
Moving and feeling through the high register and
subtle words of New Orleans.
And the Red, And the Green, And the Yellow
Bandanas flowing and strolling High in the Wind.
Some called it Spanish. Some called it Creole. Some called it French.
She called out Bamboulal.
Congo. Calindal. Ju Jun
The Ring shout. The Circle dance. A free day.
Some free time, Some free time to call on our science.
To call on our Mathematics. To construct our Cipher to genius.
To self-image. To memories. Moving in and out of this counter clockwise motion.
Swaying in Rhythm. Feet stomping the earth. Swaying in time.
Feet stomping the earth.
Answers back: in the voices of our choirs
Our Churches, Our Gospel is where she baptised us in the harmony,
in the melody of Field songs, work songs
and secret songs of the Mississippi Delta and the blues,
Striking a familiar chord in the
Clickety clack. Clickety clack. Clickety clack of the train wheels moving
us up North to Memphis and the honky tonks.
To Kansas and the boogie woogie.
To St Louis and the rag time.
And to Chicago and the funky sound
of our circular breathing that taught us how to swing
and to sing in the scat of jazz and the Razz matazz,
of be bop and the developing magic of Hip Hop.
And the Blood of Biggie. And the tears of Tupac forever resting in her sound.
She is our Music. She is
She is our Dance.
She is our Art.
She is our Freedom.
She is,
She is,
She is.
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5. |
What I Want To See
05:15
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What I Want To See
Having seen the afterbirth
Of an aborted soul
And the blind eyes
Of a volunteer slave
Lost in the obedience of their worth
Having felt the hurt
Of hearts not beating as one
Tossed around like rubber balls
Only to bounce back in our faces
Making our vision blurred
And our faith obscure
Having heard the screams
And the frantic sirens of a cry for help
For a child on fire
A drowning man
And a woman consumed by hate
Having smelled the stench
Of a rotting heart
An infected mind
And contaminated thoughts
Of how we treat each other
Having tasted the stale bread
The spoiled milk
The rancid meat of a meal
Not fit for a dog
I know what I want my senses to feast on
I know the music I want to hear
I know the air I want to breathe
I know the love I want to feel
For all good people and things I see
I want to see touch taste hear and smell
The freshness in the air
The integrity in our hearts
The determination in our will
To make this world a better place
To make the rain wash clean our souls
And quench the thrust of a dried out existence
And make us believe
All things are possible
And God however you call him or her
Has never left your side
I want to see the sun smiling
And watch him caress the moon
And give her stars to wear in her hair
No prisons no locks no keys no killings no laws
To control the free of us
But a paradise a heaven on Earth
Where everyone can sing and dance
To their own music
And we live only to bless each other
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6. |
Certain Images
04:58
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The stink of conspiracy fills the air. Devious eyes open in
the park. Searching, groping, looking for ways to enslave.
Shoot them, stab them, choke them, kill them. These traits,
these values, these fantasies that have left us wallowing in
the realms of distortion. Look at all the wildflowers smiling
secretly from the cracks of their souls. Looking at life
through one way mirrors. Guarding their tenderness,against
attacks from themselves. Gaming in the eyes of
dissatisfaction. Finding comfort and compassion in the
sanctuary of Mastercharge. Three cheers for the almighty
dollar! Dark clouds on the horizon. Understanding is being
dashed against the rocks. The ripples of the sea are bringing
forth blood. We must cling to the sun blades of the past. We
must find ourselves in the warmth of a lover's kiss.
struggling to feel. Struggling to breathe. Struggling to stay
a human being. Long live the truth! Long live the truth!
Where is the wind? Who has taken the wind? I can't breathe
this foul air. An air that reeks with the stench of death.
come back Mali come back Songhay! We need you. We need lovers_
who can smile the sunlight into our own darkened futures. We
need lovers who can kiss the strength into our own wasted
bones. We need lovers who can calm the raging nights with the
softness of their sighs. There is music playing somewhere I
can hear it. There is music playing somewhere I can hear it.
A moan. A cry. A scream. There is music playing somewhere I
can hear it. The children patronize a flaming merry-go-round.
Many are riding the white horse. They nod so divinely at a
lost paradise. Their ghostly playmate has left their
innocence in shambles. A whirlwind has stolen their humility.
What smile is this upon their face? A smile that mourns the
obscenity of their youth. No flowers for them to smell. No
grass to sing the praises of nature. No blue skies for them
to bathe their hopes in.
Truth smiles its glory to us. Can't you see
that it is time for us to move on. For there must be
struggle. There must be striving. The chill in the wind is so
terrifying. Why is it getting so cold in the valleys of our
struggle. Do not think it will be easy. For it will not. For
we are talking about bringing humanism back into the world.
There will be lies. There will be traps. there will be
opposition from all sides. Do not think it will be easy, for
it will not. But there must be struggle and striving.
Struggle and striving. Struggle and striving and Peace!
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7. |
The Bridge
03:31
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The way over,
The way out,
The bridge.
I’m In The Jungle
Going Through The Bushes
Stepping Over Rocks
Passing By The Animals
Resting Against Trees
In Search Of The Bridge
That Will Take Me To The Other side
I Was Told There Was A Bridge
Made Out Of Wood And Rope
They Say It Is Safe
Strong Enough To Withstand My Weight
It Leads To The Other side
A Place Unlike This Place
A Place Of Peace And Promise
Of Calm Tides And Bright Sun
Where People Greet Each Other
With A Smile
Where Children Can Play
Without Being Hit By Stray Bullets
There Are No Guns There
Money Does Not Exist
There Are No Gadgets
People Look Into Each Other’s Eyes
When They Speak
Everywhere You Go
You’re Greeted With A Warm Smile
I Must Find The Bridge
So I Can Leave Where I Am
So I Can Save My Life
And Live Without Barbwire Fences
Without Walls And Pitfalls
And Attitudes With The Stench Of Hate
I Need To Find The Bridge
So I Can Breathe Fresh Air
And Drink Clean Water
And Meditate To The Music
Mother Nature Has Composed
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8. |
We Must Be Sacred
04:51
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Trapped in the skylines of florescent charms, Warm and timid
touches being forced into unnatural acts. Tears turning into
delicate muscles that caress the night wind telling it of the
truth, telling it of the pain. Aren't we all so very human.
Look, look here comes the baddest dude on the block. And I
turn around and see neatly dressed Death walking down the
street. Charming all the grownups with a terrified smile
while handing out chocolate-covered crack lollipops to the
children. Where have all the down studs gone? Long time
passing. Jive whispers from neon lips. Eldorado dreams in
stagnant colors. Rich men dancing with limp dolls in the
luxury of their shame. Their mouths foaming with dead
languages while democratic lies bay at the moon. Why must the
dark ages still play games with us? Blind sprinters lost in a
moment of a peaceful masquerade. Evil is an intruder but why
do we let it in? We have no one to blame but ourselves. We
listen to the rhythm, but we never hear the musicians. We
elevate and praise the wise men but get lost in their wisdom.
We feel the passion and truth of the poets but kill them with
thunderous applause. Is there anything not sacred anymore? Is
there not anything not sacred anymore? Honesty, justice,
freedom. Freedom, justice, honesty. All being devoured by
western imitations of life, liberty and the pursuit of
happiness is drowning out the tears of deception. If I ... If
we ... had a power so tender as time maybe then we could wipe
this savage onslaught from our minds. The children dream from
the twilight of indecision. We must make their dreams come
true. Let us begin to talk to the brighter days with our
eyes. The night belongs. to the softness of our hearts. The
new circle is beginning. Will we be there when it ends? We
used to wonder why the ocean danced so childishly before the
eyes of expression. We used to understand why the grass
sighed so mysteriously from the days of winters gone by. Look
back fallen lovers. How far have we come? How much further do
we have to go? Life will never be the same. It may never
again be perfect. It may never again be beautiful. But we
must try at least to make it normal. To be poets and sing
out the joyous resurrection of our minds. To be poets and
charm the emptiness of this anticipation. To be poets and
comfort this gentle grief of our souls. To be poets and bring
sunshine to the mutiny of these meagre days. Peace will dance
with creation in the sadness of our beings and everyone's
uniqueness will fall like rain from the eyes of God is a
friend. The phoenix will come from the flames this time.
There will be no ashes to ashes. Love must be there when the
dust clears! Ally ally outs in free! Ally ally outs in Free!
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9. |
Rain Of Terror
09:55
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You are a terroriser
That's why you're the terrorist,
America is a terrorist
Killing the natives of the land
Killing and stealing
Have always been a part of America’s master plan
To control the earth and everything on it
To divide and conquer is all they wanted
America’s a terrorist
Killing the buffalo that roam the plains
Killing and slaughtering animals was turned into a game
Giving blankets contaminated with small pox
To the natives who were here
The beginning of germ warfare
The beginning of white fear
No respect for the land the trees or the air we breathe
And Christianity was an excuse
To bring others to their knees
America’s a terrorist with a slave system in place
To take away the humanity of a darker race
Put people in chains
Then beat them with whips
Made them give up their names
Those who survived the slave ships
America’s a terrorist
Chewing tobacco and eating swine
Being mean and nasty to those who treated him kind
Take a pregnant Black woman
Cut her belly open and let the fetus fall out
Stomp the baby in the ground
To instill fear is what that was all about
Gang up on a Black man
Hang him from a tree
Cut him down then set him on fire
For everyone to see
America’s a terrorist
With a Howdy Doody grin
Using the bible to keep others in check
While America commits all the sin
Thou shall not kill
That’s not part of the American dream
Because to kill is a thrill
They love to show on your TV screen
Romance the gun just for fun
Drop a bomb just for charm
This is the American way
And all of this talk about equality justice and peace
Spewing out of the mouths of theses governmental beast
But every time Blacks tried to find a way to do for self
American terrorist weren’t having it
And fear is all Black folks felt
Rosewood was a town where Blacks tried hard to thrive
White folks burned it down and many Blacks lost their lives
Now there was town in Oklahoma called Black Wall Street
Blacks had homes a bank lots of money
And stood strong on their own two feet
But now you see the Whites nearby were jealous
And just couldn’t stand seeing Blacks do so well
So they drop not one but two bombs on the town
And created a living hell
America’s a terrorist
Feeding off racism and greed
Not caring not sharing
But enjoying watching people bleed
Every time Jack Johnson fought and beat a White boy in the ring
White mobs would kill Blacks at random
Because a Black man was boxing’s king
And all the wars we fought
To try to win respect at home
But when the war was over Blacks where never treated like they belong
But rather the subjects of experiments
At Tuskegee and other places
For over four hundred years
Blacks have lived in fears of the vicious cruelty of the racist
Tried to march for justice
And the civil right to be treated fair
Attacked by dogs and fire hoses
Beaten by police
Forced to live a life of total despair
Bombed a church in Birmingham
While the children were in Sunday school
Took the lives of four little girls
Yes this terrorist was just that cruel
American terrorism is like a virus
That’s home grown and spreads across the planet too
Selling guns and chemical weapons
Gift wrapped in red white and blue
Soldiers boys selling guns
For hard drugs in exchange
It should be obvious by now that this country is deranged
Yet we stand and pledge allegiance
To a flag that brings lots of grief
And singing that war song every day
Is Americas only belief
America’s a terrorist
And no one wants to admit
Pointing the finger at others is the ironic part of it
Dropped a bomb in Philadelphia
To wipe out an organization named MOVE
Killed unarmed women and children
Because the police had something to prove
And all the Black Panthers trying to help their community
Wiped out by the FBI for trying to create Black unity
Put drugs in the hood
Set folks up for no good
Kept unemployment high
Education is laced with lies
Turned the people against each other
Made money more sacred than your mother
Caused an avalanche of grief
By trigger happy police
Locked the Black man up in jail
Made him think he was born to fail
And no place are you safe
If you have a darker face
Henry Dumas, Amadou Diallo Michael Griffin Yusef Hawkins Anthony Baez
Clifford Glover, James Bird just to name a few
died at the hands of American terrorist
No terrorism here, Ain't a damn thing new,
The CIA The FBI the Michigan militia the KKK
And the police from coast to coast
Are the real American terrorist
And the government is the host
So now America is ready to engage in world war 3
Because what goes around has come around
But you can’t kill what you can’t see
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10. |
The Music
05:09
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Backing {the music, the sound of life all around}
I am the master of song
I am the music,
No you can’t use it
I started out with the blues because I had been abused
So I created medicine to ease the pain,
So I wouldn’t go insane
I found a way to heal my soul,
In spite of what I was being told
I created a new world of sound,
To pick me up when I was down.
You see I have a relationship with god.
So creating spirituals isn’t odd,
It is as natural as the land
For me to try and understand
Why every day I’m crucified.
But my dreams won’t be denied.
I sang and prayed the day would come
When I’d be shining like the sun
I gave the world a song
That everyone could sing along.
I am the living faith.
Dreams come true,
You don’t have to wait.
Everyone wants to sing like me.
I guess they think it will set them free.
So I created rag time, when money made us poor.
Then I created jazz, and opened a brand new door.
I was Joplin and Satchmo,
Creative geniuses of my day.
Creating sounds to enhance the moment
Of what where trying to say.
I am the master of sound.
The whole world hears me well.
The love I shares clear.
I’m the soundtrack of heaven not from hell.
Through my music
I can take to a place where life is bliss
And all that I’ve created I have sealed it with a kiss
I can scat and rap, sing gospel, reggae,
Rock n roll, bebop and hip-hop too.
Salsa, samba or rumba,
Is what I was born to do.
You see I put some rhythm with my blues,
Because the drum is part of it too.
I come from Mother Africa,
Where music is how we speak.
The drum is my heart beat.
I am the music
No you can’t use it
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