THE MIDDLE PASSAGE AND AFTER
-F BURN, BABY, BURN
by Larry Neal
by Marvin X
Decked stacked, pillaged from
TIRED. SICK AND TIRED.
TIRED OF BEING SICK AND
their homes
TIRED.
LOST. LOST IN
packed bodies on bodies rock in the belly WILDERNESS OF WHITE AMERICA.
of death.
ARE THE MASSES ASSES?
COOL. SAID THE MASTER
sea blood, sea blood churns
TO THE SLAVE, "NO PROBLEM,
DON'T ROBAND STEAL, I'LL
production for the West's dying
BE YOUR DRIVING WHEEL."
machine; commodities for profit-
COOL.
stuffed empires with spices;
AND HE WHEELED US INTO
350 YEARS OF BLACK
moved history closer to our truth-
MADNESS- TO HOG GUTS,
CONKED HAIR, QUO VADIS
death's prophecy- in the sea their
BLEACHING CREAM,
UNCLE THOMAS, TO WATTS
screams and the salt smell on our
TO THE STREETS, TO THE
KILLLLLLLLLLLL
faces pressed against one another,
booommmmmmmmmm
2 honkeys gone..
hands push stiffward, push for air room.
MOTHERFUCK THE POLICE
AND PARKER'S SISTER TOO.
Our nightmares are tight compacted
BURN, BABY, BURN*******
COOK OUTTA SIGHT*******
whitenesses, smotherings of babies;
FINEBURGS, WINEBURGS
SAFEWAY, NOWAY, BURN...
jammed into drunken limits.
BABY, BURN
our souls are open skies and children
zooming across green places;
open clearings, rhythms bursting
sea-shell prisons; are things heard
in between tropical blasts of wind;
are ancestor-wisdom making itself
known in every black face born or about
to be.
