Langalibalele's Rage

[Langalibalele]

Family of Sufferers


Who will unite the family
of Sufferers all they see,
families fighting neighbors
in strife, street sets knifing and
shooting over contested turf as
war elephants that once crossd the
Alps languish in z/o/o/s and the
BLACKS who drove them, Slaves!
Kefing on disability, lost nerve
left his taste for the battle the art
of what he kno and he
kno why when the face
of Oppression wears no hood no
mask, comes at us looking human.
Kefing. Maroon general yesterday
commando mon capitan legendary
leitmotif of revolutionary artifice
steppd back from the fray, keen to
bosses dogging workers, defiant of
presidents imprisoning Afrikans and
bombing isles, fighting striving for
PRINCIPLES ETHICS LIBERATION.
Ethics sans morality, meantime an
immoral majority contracts America
to transparent lies, indignation feignd
over a president fallen, in the polls.
The president, the Beast, a pike
in his hand, his snake eyes gaze
from atop the heights upon a World
for conquest ripe. Who will unite
the family of Sufferers all:
They see conflict and
for what do they struggle except a
World in disorder our own world
forfeit, & surfeit to Shaytaanz Cause.
Souls bought and sold for a mess
of porridge a barrel of oil a kilo
of paste between some borders or on
a city street: your mother on the corner
working the block, your brother in
that window robbing her house and
you in the cut slinging this poison.
A family of Sufferers, all you see
hundred dollar Jordans a fresh Polo
shirt and a merc camouflaged as a
housewife anxious to bail when the
Beasts lock you down in SCI. A cell,
Pelican Bay, now a world away from
your picturesque living room in the
midst of the City, the bank house
parkd in a hi-rise and your Lexus
gliding over a raggd street while
a certain old ladys tired feet scurry
to carry her groceries home to safety
which your keen eyes never peepd.
Somebodyz grandmother.
(And her daughter caught
up in the slaughter
that you call The Game, player.)
So far so good, none of the fiends you
sling to has crackd her olden head–
no neighborhood walking dead,
none have broke wild for her purse
on Sunday morning along her way to
church praying to a Jesus who aint
trying to hear no begging saint! A
white Christ a white god a red Santa
or Satan on a Christmas producing
no Jordans for grandma’s tired dogs.
Who want to hear that nowhere shit.
Conscientious, grandma cares for
Feyshelle’s kids, ‘cause girl caught
up in the street. Who repeatd that lie
five percent truth and the rest lies
white lies black lies statistics! What
made you believe Kefing makes
any difference and this disability slop
means less to him than agitprop(?)
a nonpaying job, an occupation not
on paper not yielding ends not
giving up any liquidity or financial
dividends. Not gonna help grandma
feed Feyshelle’s kids no matter
what yo. Polemics (?!) in a community
whose leaders the church the city
the police the pimp the hustler
the barbershop owner and the
Mason recognize nothing you say
you dead-ender, we’d rather listen
to a damn jitterbug, stop that Black
Revolution, aint no revolution, its
Barack and Jesse and Condi.
Its affirmative action and Hilfiger
a fresh cut and a fine dyme honey
for my money and a whole lot more!
And Feyshelle’s kids on an empty
lot collecting bottles while she
tricks for hustlers and ballers turnt
out, you talking sucker shit about a
Black Revolution and Feyshelle
yet holding onto her good looks
getting high, and we counting
money…we counting money
WE COUNTING MONEY
no time to read books.

[DreadedBliss]

Loved it .

[Jalili]

Nice write