Black Thought World Anthem

I sit at my desk and allow my thoughts to coalesce,

As I reckon with my inability to force some sort of change

I fight to limit my regret, though I know I shouldn't fret,

But I can't help but feel like I'm what's black alive remains

And so this pain in my arms and shoulders are a lot more serious

Than "I told ya so"s, ergonomic chairs and carpal tunnel strains

They’re from my "he's-not-heavy" brother and my "battling-to-be-petite" sister,

This perplexing and superlative level of acceptance, I can no longer feign

It’s from the black part of me that fights for a reason to unite

With my brethren hanging on corners being blinded by street lights

But we keep being misogynistic to our daughters and numbing the sensitivity of our sons

No wonder our relationships are all base and built so contrite

I’m searching for the genuine in my gentlemen and sentimentality in my lady friends

Those who have been educated enough to discern wrong from right

We’re tossing our “world” oysters back into the sea and over-sleeping the phone ring

It’s like, being black is a never-ending role call and we got stage fright

The part of us that once made us the strongest thinkers in the world,

Is what I'm looking for like U2, but yet I still haven't found
If Halloween lasts a day and black history acknowledgement a month,

Then why am I scared of ”what we’s gon do” 365 days; all year round?

And I ask why can’t we just trust in ourselves and maintain who we are

But, we can no better retain our value than the dollar against the British Pound

We have the leaders that it would take to lead us all to a higher plane

But we can’t convince the young to take advice, from an elder, that is sound

I can't help but feel that our train has fallen off the track

That was once destined to lead us From Slavery to Freedom-lands
So I feel like Johnny-on-the-spot, amidst a sea of Hope-less people

Who’ve been taught that life's about little else than just banking Franklins

We no longer feel comfortable to reside, in this Divided Economics of America

In this skin, in this blackness swelled with languorous pus we're in
I'm not talking complexion, though I am, I mostly mean spiritous ignorance,

That has created a hole by wearing my patience to a thickness paper thin

I'm battling 50 cent pieces and Games putting on shows

And Fat Joe Shmoes for a piece of my black child's so called soul
But in the end, I'm losing the battle, against the self-sustaining pallor

I’m glad we ain’t got money to gamble, lest each hand we fold

How can I get folks to stop calling black women out they names

When they’re still auditioning for a chance to become video ho’s?

It’s this type of circuitous behavior, coming right round the bend

That leads to these same putrid stories being once again told

I can’t get my people interested in college, let alone an electorate college

The driving force behind zapping hypocrisy into the democratic process

You’d think a black presidential nominee would get us hyped, but it’s hard

With all these politicians having to jump through hoops, to see past the nonsense

And I’m sensed – I’m sick and tired of hearing about how the poor get poorer

When there are more and more success stories of people making it from rags to riches

But the media steady promoting role models that are drug dealers cum rap artists

Trying to un-vilify a black man with a bastard child, a gun and a bulletproof vest

I keep on 3 string necklaces and I rope them together to represent

This new world course we're on From Slavery to Cultural Suicide
It's crazy what a society without the proper means of community

And self-developed worth will do, unawares, to a black man's silly pride

I did what I was told, including learn how to make my own decisions;

I went and got my education so I could get over that economic divide

And now my thoughts roam free, but I’m jailed up in this corporate office

Dressed like an ape at the zoo, with 4 corners and nowhere for my face to hide

And lately, I’ve been trying to listen to today’s music to self-identify

But the artists only leave me with more questions like, “why?”

I know about the world we live in, but even the Love songs are about mistakes

If it ain’t about a woman gold diggin’ it’s about a black man in need of an alibi

Sometimes I just wanna cry, or perhaps just holler like Marvin Gaye say, but I can’t

I have little time left to live and make a difference before it is time to die

But I must first make sense of this world I must live in so I don’t feel out of place

Like a fish in one of Dali’s paintings, floating hedonistically through the sky

And the Ghettos ain't heavenly; they’re more like heavily weighing us down

Like quicksand that has the grips of death pulling us all in to hell

And I gotta be careful when I walk out my door for fear of being robbed

Or what’s worse, smelling stinky piss in the apartment building stairwell

Preservation isn’t only for museums and archeologists and highly-ran societies;

It is something that we all must learn; lest we run out of water in that well

And our culture, once ripe and replete with wealth, will similarly become desertic

Because we didn’t fight for what we know, burdening us all, ‘til we fail

Maybe it’s best if we keep living in a fairytale and sit and wait for a savior

Or perhaps that magic bean that can nourish all the insipid hungry

In the end, wealth will no longer matter for black folks anymore
For the rich and the poor all now read from the same damn story

And if you don’t believe me, just check out any sitcom or movie about us

Or look at the court shows, the news stations or shows like Povich’s Maury

I wish us all the success in the world, in abundance, but until we turn that corner

We’ll be trudging between Sodom and Gomorra ‘til we find that righteous glory

Oh bore me, with your stories of keeping it real, by going to school

Getting a degree, then getting a second degree to put it all to good use

And you found a mate and she’s everything to you under the sun

You trust each other and spread Love to everyone; not suffering abuse

And you strive forward despite the black marks on your past or your family

For the housed and the vagrant all live under the same hot tin roof

The reality is, I’d prefer normal any day of the year to what we have now

I feel like what we have now, ain’t real; just living life as one big spoof

And see the funny thing is with each conclusion come illusions

Of sustainability by a tribe of people caught-up in capitalism savored

The decisions we make come second to the decisions we don’t make

Our fears compound if we don’t take a hold of these contrasts layered

We need to stop ostracizing ourselves sending our worst foot forward

Like say for instance, hmmm, let’s see, perhaps, Flavs that are Flavored

If those become models of roles we put on television, it’ll be no surprise

If in the 2060s the Black Panthers come back to fight a future-past beleaguered

So I close my eyes and then open them again, take a deep breath

Wishing all that I know about us, was conjured up in a dream

When I pay reverence to myself, I can often be found shaking my head

I feel I shouldn’t despise my own race because that would be blaspheme

Sometimes my desk feels so lonely, even though I carry all of the weight

Of black men on my shoulders to each business meeting of teams

And perhaps I’m just too hard on us, but we can’t seem to stop

Committing these transgressions against each other that should be foreseen

So I, like you, must confront what we know about this world

Created and still in constant creation for my race of black men and women

There’s no way to be whole if we keep breaking ourselves apart

We must get the needle, the thread and the bandages and begin to mend

For we’re way past the point where we can look each other in the eye

And say this too shall pass; we’re only facing a generational trend

For if every new chapter is the Genesis, it must spring forth from an “end”

So for my part, I give to you the reader, my Black Thought World Anthem