Nourish the Seedz, Restore the Flowers

At this time, in this place, I genuinely know why
(the caged bird sings)/
other than being falsely imprisoned,
ey’s being called - N.I.G.G.E.R. of all things.
As I give perfect praise to the “most high”,
I can only wonder how many more bullets have to fly?
How many more of my precious B.L.A.C.K. & Chican@ political prisoners must die
Before those of us who still dare to be free
can remove the blood-filled tearz from our eyes?
We’ve all been shackled by the same chainz,
victimized by the same pain/
So, in whose name doez death really blossom?
I can vividly recall being radically profiled as a juvenile,
because as a child,
“I refused to pledge my allegiance to a flag”
that forced many of my B.L.A.C.K. Panthers into exile.
This beautiful Black revolutionary love of mine is God’z design,
bottom line.
I speak from the perspective
of a soulja with an objective,
cause being black in this white manz world
justice is often selective.
On behalf of the collective,
I stand on the frontlines.
My message to the black man is to fight the power,
nourish the seedz, and restore the flowers.
This form of revolutionary love
will never be televized,
nor will it be glamorized/
because the very essence of this love affair
depicts us finally being unified!!
Let’z reflect back to the bird and the cage
back to the dehuminization that we endured
while naked on the auction blocks & stage
or picture the 25-50 million Africans that died
during the passage
that never made it to the grave!
Because it is only through those degrees of pain,
horror and torture,
can one truly understand the life of a slave.
On the strength of those whose lives were gave
that divine sacrifice in turn,
allowed countless other B.L.A.C.K.S. & others’ lives to be saved!!