| The Blood piece... |
| My heart is racing, my mind is pacing but it ain't exactly me, I think it's my altar ego or is it the part of me that don't exactly infuse with this understanding and sensitivity, this is my blood, staining the wall painting all that I am, all that I feel, depending on the light it changes colors from crimson and burgundy to hot red and princess ruby, and who be this.... this is my blood, swimming through my genes, ejecting out of my pores and swimming through my jeans, drowning with the truth, drowning with young black youth I paint the doorways of my life with it, in hopes that the troubles Passover, So I pass over pain, indignation, and confusion by swimming through my blood while it runs thick up in my veins, I take blood bathes in the middle passages between corridors of illusions of the un-just, they've adjusted my position because of their superiority complex, exchanging sacred souls, all behind crimson checks, this is blood money, this is blood money, and I can't accept it, overflowing as I speak, blood money moves like rivers running deep up in the streets, I have to be careful when I'm walking on elevated concrete to make sure I'm not standing in puddles, self-divulged with no chance for rebuttal, this excess that splashes on the side-walk shores this excess that drips from malicious wounds and sores one touch and I could fall in and get overwhelmed with guilt, hurt and shame I have to listen with my ear to the ground to actually hear what its saying. My blood talks to me but often sounds get muffled, idiosyncrasies and no understanding but everyone's demanding to have a taste just to get free, but is everybody really worthy sometimes I hardly think so, but what do I know, I'm just a young blood so they say, but my blood is centuries beyond my life, I listen when it speaks and tells me the stories of the lives that have come before me, therefore I'm patient when the youthful are Impatient and Rambunctious, the I. and R. speak in "I can't" contractions but I speak in blood lined I will and we can contractions, but what's the function of this blood They say it was to pay the price that I may have the right to eternal life, they say it was for me to look back and see the strength of a nation down trodden, rotten with the shame of the truth, my descendants that stand as the wind blows, some say its to bring oxygen and nutrients throughout the body but if that's the case, I am the blood, I am the love that brings oxygen to a hate-filled world sipping its last breath, I am the blood that clots its wounds when it seems we are doomed to a fate of infectionous dis-ease, nurturing women constantly unpleased by the actions of man, I am the blood of life that forges and fights on and on, from night to dawn, from the tormented to the calm, ring the alarm, there is blood against the wall, there is blood on my hands, this is the blood of who I am.... |