I’d Rather Be A Slave
Asalaamu’Alaykum, I am Medgar Evers
Held fast to the rope while my ties forever severed
Where is the measure of a man that faith treasured
Live forever, my spirit specter, while my soul drinks nectar
Who have you elected, am I still a mentor?
It seems now our children’s role models are invented
For me it was Frederick, I tried integrate the college
While ghosts in human cloaks, tried disintegrate knowledge
Of self, civil rights, how about the rights of man
Byron De La Beckwith was a member of the Klan
Organizations, trials, protests, and I am shot in the back
Like on plains of Kerbala how Ali Akbar was attacked
Pull the bullet out my body, forensics, my Khaibar
Reverend states, “Here lies Medgar Evers of Decatur”
“Who grew up, watching his young friends lynched”
I rather be the slave of God, than of the Willie Lynch
Mindset, who’s who, a colored man’s activist
An assassination of a man, divide and conquer tactics
It’s a sick methodology, psychology of wild terror
I rather be the slave of God, and free from reign of terror
Asalaamu’Alaykum, now I am Martin Luther King, Jr.
“Free At Last!?” Why doesn’t my soul hear them sing?
As it floats around the rings of heavens, over mountain tops
I’ve seen the Promised Land, with black eyes, billy clubbed by cops
I’ve been to the Promised Place and greeted the Master of Martyrs,
He sits at the feet of his mother, imbibing Euphrates water
Drinking for all those thirsty, and for the day his throat was parched
Now I hear echoes from footsteps made when we had marched
Now a black void, empty salad bowl, contents in Sam’s mouth
Fear realized, integration of my people into a burning house
Conflagration, then flood, complete destruction of a nation
An ark bound for new land, deluge washes away their prisons
***
Black folk, tribes, and brown skins travel in the same boat,
In the middle of a huge ocean, no land in site, yet afloat
Then another vessel comes along belonging to pirates most feared
Captained by the pale devil, Sam the whitebeard
He takes all their wealth, water, food, and supplies
Then he orders his band of men to go over and rape their wives
Adding insult to injury, he smashes a hole in their ship
He then sails off, watching their vessel slowly sink
He laughs as the wind carries their cries, turning his ship around
In spite of his men’s protests, his sense of generosity abounds
He tosses over cups, to empty the water from their vessel
Sam felt he did a good deed and also learned a lesson
The people on the other boat no longer wailed or complained
Some even thanked him for those cups and praised his name
Even those still angry used these to stop sea from choking them
So Sam chuckles to himself, and calls his deed “Affirmative Action”
***
I had a dream deferred; now I see little white children
Emulate blacks, to make profits for white businessmen
I had a dream deferred; now a third of black males
Not free at last, but seeking a pardon, in prison, or jail
I had a dream deferred; minds hypnotized by Obama
Now seem satisfied with the verdict passed by your honor
J. Edgar, listen to my voice now, on streets, its legacy
My dream deferred; but at least, I live in positive memory
Freedom of information, now you burn for the little boys
You raped and enjoyed, while you taped us with toys
Technology, the best our tax dollars could buy you
I await with my brethren, the day that God will try you
And all those who ever supported devils like you
I’ll quote my brother Malcolm now, just to spite you
Like any old snake, any old devil will do, especially you
‘Take my hand, precious lord,’ I memorize the tune
Bullet to the chin, a Gamemaster, from an old cracker
Snapped my vertebrae, shot by James Earl Ray, after
See what RFK say, spits intro to an oft repeated chapter
Stokely, stroked the masses, to grab the gats faster
I rather be a slave than live in this hypocrisy
I rather be a slave of the Most High and be truly free
From boycotts on buses in Montgomery, our wishes
Were never seditious, but black cats stroked the superstitious
Amongst the white cloaked, white folk, to be super vicious
Human lives didn’t matter, to them we’re just N______
Go figure, grab a gun, point and pull the trigger
At the picture of Sam who promised but didn’t deliver
So I say, I rather be a slave, so I became an iconoclast
There is only One God, and I scream “Free at Last!”
***
The technological maker, is certainly not a man
We just caretakers a minor part of the master’s plan
Tech is merely mechanical nature a realm within a realm
The matrices maintain vortices which subjugate the phlegm
Spitting obscenities while the master splits atoms
Sifting through genealogy only to discover who created Adam
Optimal olfactory senses still can’t comprehend
When the creator is everywhere why would he need to descend?
Choosing Born again, reincarnated or emancipated
I’d rather be the slave of the most infinite, immaculate
Given a little power by his leave has driven some men insane
Instead of uplifting brothers they prefer to dole out their pain
Working out their left hands because their book is getting heavy
Choosing a kernel in this life instead of an endless horn of plenty
Infrastructure built upon binary logarithms is flimsy
Slowly forgotten like the retired numerals of Grigsby
Walk away from an equation which ensnares like Oeste
Choose ihram or the tattered garments of Clayton Bigsby
Those devoted to the cypher lack the ultimate realization
Trigger safety unlocked and gun cocked without hesitation
Echoes in the skull, smell of burnt ozone and hot fluids
Suicidal thoughts amidst the sparks of electric fuses
Depravity since humanity ceased touching food with our fingers
Slowly manners created defining what it meant to be rude figures
Then, our connection to reality on every level was indirect
Prophylactics for every body part, for fear we’d reconnect
Wrapping our intestines around microwaved plastic remnants
Super hydrogenation, laced with germinated genetic segments
Technis imperative, the children who watched Transformers
Now till Silicon Valleys, like new age terra-formers
Lost art of conversation, new linguae text message
Losing our earthly position, barter every spiritual vestige
Technological pollution, dumbed senses, automatons
Like military intelligence, we become living oxymorons
The hypocrisy of living free, is that we cannot be just masters
Our justice, self-serving laws from antiquated pastures
No chains in divine servitude, just an aura of perfect justice
He considers his entire creation while we think about just us
Choosing a lifestyle between these choices I elect to become His slave
Joining the ranks of righteous teachers, and companions of the brave
***
There is only One God, and I scream “Free at Last!”
Like Hurr ibn Riyahi, an echo from oppression’s past
I want to be eternally free, with the master on the path
Not enslaved with worldly riches, while incurring God’s wrath
Like Yazeed, an Arab Pharoah, “Let our people go!”
And Sam as he plots to make dinero, “Let our people go!”
I’d rather be a slave, and dine with gifts of manna
Than dine with false riches, and call a silent Aqama
Through our deaths you will learn of the family’s name
Insha’Allah my blood flows for the blood of Hussain
This is the sound made of many voices—
The downtrodden, oppressed and exploited
Left without choice, save the greatest resistance
Revolution, an ablution from the sweat of persistence
-Professor A.L.I. aka Black Steven
