With big respect to the Artist Solomon Jabby of which the music comes from. 

 

 

American?

 

 

“How you feeling blue” Kristian asks

In dulcet tones designed to rock a roller

Into parodies of English – the language

Not his own by example

Of his wit,

            “I’m pretty shit!” replied

His carnage’d mind considering the

Low, the lack of ebb and flow

Now coursing through time,

            “Ya see there are those who

Climb  mountains day in and day out,

Get up, grab the caffeine fix and

Trick themselves into feeling fit

For all the day can bring,

But not I, not I, aye man aye!

It’s just as shit in here as it is out there

And dare I say it but for you and I

Kristian there ain’t no place to go,

No place like home to throw

A bash, a big band jazz stash

For we know not where home can be.

My mood is low, lower than the Mariana

Despite the oxygen,

            I cannot breathe the air

Stifles like rifles pop off folk too keen

And I really wish I could forgive,

            But after years of same ole same

Ole oppression I fear The Whitehouse not

The staging ground for the freedom that we seek,

It’s still a bargaining while Uni’s –

Keepin’ busy tryin a rewrite history –

Claiming all that jazz

While jazz never needs no speech.

     The pain is all unbearable

Since the days the Black Starliner

Trawled its nets and never shall we forget,

            This summer rain is not African,

It’s false like the story they are trying to

Recreate for the repatriation of their guilt,

I’m sitting in the Bronx with no important

Features but if you look and see,

From Alabama to Nebraska the pain

Comes triple fold complete

With the mightiest of frowns upon

Every brother, every sisters face.

They made mistakes inventing history

On the cheap, but now

But now it’s getting vicious as they

Try eradicate and change the way

They did to us the trans atlantic slave trade,

And they won’t admit it,

They just won’t court the disgust of their race,

And though I do not speak for all its plain to

See and we can see as we have for century

On century the oppression still

So sinister as to their clever guarded lies,

            We are despised and envied,

It’s always been the same

Always been the same.

 

            We yield from African,

We have the torture written in blood

For all the cuts they give at the

Mercy of their whip yet still,

They’re whipping us again.

            We have a man,

A statesman and a gentleman, but

Every time he tries to change the nation

For the good of all

                        It’s stampedes barricades

And lockjaw that denies at every

Hurdle our higher state of grace,

He tries so hard effect the changes,

But the corporate whose distinction

In Mafia  and collusion

Who holds the wealth of peoples senates,

Keeps the people down,

We are no freer now than

Tethered to the Starliner,

            Yet we once were free,

We once were free upon the Globes

Soul, the jewel of this tarnished Earth,

But money and power still keep

People enslaved by unwitting

Signed up conventions,

And it’s nothing more than

The same ole same ole

Corruptive ways of greed

And still the bleed has never stopped.

From Brooklyn to the Bronx,

Every mans important,

Every man has features born

Of pain,

            And here we are after centuries

Of abuses and still the excuses come thick

And fast to part,

We’re here within America

That held the tribes of Indian,

Still, there is no deceit,

No conceit or lie

Bigger,

            Than that of liberty sold

By the former,

White European Man.

 

Michael J Waite 17^th October 2011.